from beneath the edge of her skirt. If she had been posed for a
picture, it could not have been done more artistically.

"Do you know the world is a blank to me?" she said after we had
exchanged greetings. "I haven't read a newspaper in ten days and I
feel lost to everything. Tell me about Cuba! I almost would be
willing to postpone the enfranchisement of women to see Cuba
free...."

"Do you believe in immortality?"

"I don't know anything about heaven or hell," she answered, "or
whether I will meet my friends again or not, but as no particle of
matter is ever destroyed, I have a feeling that no particle of mind
is ever lost. I am sure that the same wise power which manages the
present may be trusted with the hereafter."

"Then you don't find life tiresome?"

"O, mercy, no! I don't want to die as long as I can work; the
minute I can not, I want to go. I dread the thought of being
enfeebled. The older I get, the greater power I seem to have to
help the world; I am like a snowball--the further I am rolled the
more I gain. But," she added, significantly, "I'll have to take it
as it comes. I'm just as much in eternity now as after the breath
goes out of my body."

"Do you pray?"

"I pray every single second of my life; not on my knees, but with
my work. My prayer is to lift woman to equality with man. Work and
worship are one with me. I can not imagine a God of the universe
made happy by my getting down on my knees and calling him
'great.'...

"What do I think of marriage? True marriage, the real marriage of
soul, when two people take each other on terms of perfect equality,
without the desire of one to control the other, is a beautiful
thing; it is the highest condition of life; but for a woman to
marry for support is demoralizing; and for a man to marry a woman
merely because she has a beautiful figure or face is
degradation...."

"Do you like flowers?" I asked, leading her into another channel.

"I like roses first and pinks second, and nothing else after," Miss
Anthony laughed. "I don't call anything a flower that hasn't a
sweet perfume."

"What is your favorite hymn or ballad?"

"The dickens!" she exclaimed merrily. "I don't know! I can't tell
one tune from another. I know there are such hymns as 'Sweet B