But women are gradually waking up to the degradation of these ceremonies.  Not long since, at a wedding in high life, a beautiful girl of eighteen was struck dumb at the word “obey.”  Three times the priest pronounced it with emphasis and holy unction, each time slower, louder, than before.  Though the magnificent parlors were crowded, a breathless silence reigned.  Father, mother, and groom were in agony.  The bride, with downcast eyes, stood speechless.  At length the priest slowly closed his book and said, “The ceremony is at an end.”  One imploring word from the groom, and a faint “obey” was heard in the solemn stillness.  The priest unclasped his book and the knot was tied.  The congratulations, feast, and all, went on as though there had been no break in the proceedings, but the lesson was remembered, and many a rebel made by that short pause.

I think all these reverend gentlemen who insist on the word “obey” in the marriage service should be removed for a clear violation of the Thirteenth Amendment to the Federal Constitution, which says there shall be neither slavery nor involuntary servitude within the United States.  As I gave these experiences to Bishop Janes he laughed heartily, and asked me to repeat them to each newcomer.  Our little debating society was the center of attraction.  One gentleman asked me if our woman suffrage conventions were as entertaining.  I told him yes; that there were no meetings in Washington so interesting and so well attended as ours.

As I had some woman-suffrage literature in my valise, I distributed leaflets to all earnest souls who plied me with questions.  Like all other things, it requires great discretion in sowing leaflets, lest you expose yourself to a rebuff.  I never offer one to a man with a small head and high heels on his boots, with his chin in the air, because I know, in the nature of things, that he will be jealous of superior women; nor to a woman whose mouth has the “prunes and prisms” expression, for I know she will say, “I have all the rights I want.”  Going up to London one day, a few years later, I noticed a saintly sister, belonging to the Salvation Army, timidly offering some leaflets to several persons on board; all coolly declined to receive them.  Having had much experience in the joys and sorrows of propagandism, I put out my hand and asked her to give them to me.  I thanked her and read them before reaching London.  It did me no harm and her much good in thinking that she might have planted a new idea in my mind.  Whatever is given to us freely, I think, in common politeness, we should accept graciously.

While I was enjoying once more the comforts of home, on the blue hills of Jersey, Miss Anthony was lighting the fires of liberty on the mountain tops of Oregon and Washington Territory.  All through the months of October, November, and December, 1871, she was jolting about in stages, over rough roads, speaking in every hamlet where a schoolhouse was to be found, and scattering our breezy leaflets to the four winds of heaven.