My daughter, having decided opinions of her own, was soon at loggerheads with Miss Cobbe on the question of vivisection.  After we had examined several German and French books, with illustrations showing the horrible cruelty inflicted on cats and dogs, she enlarged on the hypocrisy and wickedness of these scientists, and, turning to my daughter, said:  “Would you shake hands with one of these vivisectionists?  Yes,” said Harriot, “I should be proud to shake hands with Virchow, the great German scientist, for his kindness to a young American girl.  She applied to several professors to be admitted to their classes, but all refused except Virchow; he readily assented, and requested his students to treat her with becoming courtesy.  ’If any of you behave otherwise,’ said he, ’I shall feel myself personally insulted.’  She entered his classes and pursued her studies, unmolested and with great success.  Now, would you, Miss Cobbe, refuse to shake hands with any of your statesmen, scientists, clergymen, lawyers, or physicians who treat women with constant indignities and insult?” “Oh, no!” said Miss Cobbe.  “Then,” said Harriot, “you estimate the physical suffering of cats and dogs as of more consequence than the humiliation of human beings.  The man who tortures a cat for a scientific purpose is not as low in the scale of beings, in my judgment, as one who sacrifices his own daughter to some cruel custom.”

As we were, just then, reading Froude’s “Life of Carlyle,” we drove by the house where Carlyle had lived, and paused a moment at the door where poor Jennie went in and out so often with a heavy heart.  The book gives a painful record of a great soul struggling with poverty and disappointment; the hope of success, as an author, so long deferred and never realized.  His foolish pride of independence and headship, and his utter indifference to his domestic duties and the comfort of his wife made the picture still darker.  Poor Jennie! fitted to shine in any circle, yet doomed, all her married life, to domestic drudgery, instead of associations with the great man for whose literary companionship she had sacrificed everything.

At one of Miss Biggs’ receptions Miss Anthony and I met Mr. Stansfeld, M.P., who had labored faithfully for the repeal of the Contagious Diseases Act, and had in a measure been successful.  We had the honor of an interview with Lord Shaftesbury, at one of his crowded “at homes,” and found him a little uncertain as to the wisdom of allowing married women to vote, for fear of disturbing the peace of the family.  I have often wondered if men see, in this objection, what a fatal admission they make as to their love of domination.