giving up what she undertook, she went through the meeting alone,
making the speeches herself. Her faithful friend Judge Hay[22] came to
her rescue with a donation of $20 and she was just able to pay
expenses.

The public was not in a mood for woman's conventions. The presidential
campaign was at its height, with three tickets in the field, and the
troubles in Kansas were approaching a crisis. In September came the
news of the raid at Osawatomie and that thirty out of the fifty
settlers had been killed by the "border ruffians." This brought
especial gloom to the Anthony homestead, as the dispatches also stated
that the night before the encounter, John Brown had slept in the cabin
of the young son Merritt, and for weeks they were unable to learn
whether he were among the thirty who died or the twenty who lived. At
last the welcome letters came which related how the coffee was just
ready to be put on the table in the cabin when the sound of firing was
heard, and how without waiting to drink it, John Brown and his little
band rushed to the conflict. The old hero gave strict orders to Merritt
not to leave the house, as he had been very ill, but as soon as they
were out of sight he seized his gun, staggered down to the bank of the
Marais du Cygne and was soon in the thick of the fight. When it was
over he crawled on his hands and knees back to his cabin, where he lay
ill for weeks, entirely alone and uncared for. A letter from Miss
Anthony to this brother shows the tender, domestic side of her nature,
which the public is seldom permitted to see:

[Illustration:

SUSAN B. ANTHONY.
AT THE AGE OF 36. FROM A DAGUERREOTYPE.]

How much rather would I have you at my side tonight than to think
of your daring and enduring greater hardships even than our
Revolutionary heroes. Words can not tell how often we think of you
or how sadly we feel that the terrible crime of this nation against
humanity is being avenged on the heads of our sons and brothers....
Wednesday night, Mr. Mowry, who was in the battle, arrived in town.
Like wild fire the news flew. D.R. was in pursuit of him when
father reached his office. He thought you were not hurt. Mother
said that night, "I can go to sleep now there is a hope that
Merritt still lives;" but father said: "I suppose I shall sleep
when nature is tired out, but the hope that my son has survived
brings little solace to my soul while the cause o