I returned from Geneva to New York city in time to celebrate my seventy-sixth birthday with my children.  I had traveled about constantly for the last twenty years in France, England, and my own country, and had so many friends and correspondents, and pressing invitations to speak in clubs and conventions, that now I decided to turn over a new leaf and rest in an easy-chair.  But so complete a change in one’s life could not be easily accomplished.  In spite of my resolution to abide in seclusion, my daughter and I were induced to join the Botta Club, which was to meet once a month, alternately, at the residences of Mrs. Moncure D. Conway and Mrs. Abby Sage Richardson.  Though composed of ladies and gentlemen it proved dull and unprofitable.  As the subject for discussion was not announced until each meeting, no one was prepared with any well-digested train of thought.  It was also decided to avoid all questions about which there might be grave differences of opinion.  This negative position reminded me of a book on etiquette which I read in my young days, in which gentlemen were warned, “In the presence of ladies discuss neither politics, religion, nor social duties, but confine yourself to art, poetry, and abstract questions which women cannot understand.  The less they know of a subject the more respectfully they will listen.”  This club was named in honor of Mrs. Botta, formerly Miss Anne Lynch, whose drawing room for many years was the social center of the literati of New York.

On January 16, 1892, we held the Annual Suffrage Convention in Washington, and, as usual, had a hearing before the Congressional Committee.  My speech on the “Solitude of Self” was well received and was published in the Congressional Record.  The Woman’s Tribune struck off many hundreds of copies and it was extensively circulated.

Notwithstanding my determination to rest, I spoke to many clubs, wrote articles for papers and magazines, and two important leaflets, one on “Street Cleaning,” another on “Opening the Chicago Exposition on Sunday.”  As Sunday was the only day the masses could visit that magnificent scene, with its great lake, extensive park, artificial canals, and beautiful buildings, I strongly advocated its being open on that day.  One hundred thousand religious bigots petitioned Congress to make no appropriation for this magnificent Exposition, unless the managers pledged themselves to close the gates on Sunday, and hide this vision of beauty from the common people.  Fortunately, this time a sense of justice outweighed religious bigotry.  I sent my leaflets to every member of Congress and of the State legislatures, and to the managers of the Exposition, and made it a topic of conversation at every opportunity.  The park and parts of the Exposition were kept open on Sunday, but some of the machinery was stopped as a concession to narrow Christian sects.

In June, 1892, at the earnest solicitation of Mrs. Russell Sage, I attended the dedication of the Gurley Memorial Building, presented to the Emma Willard Seminary, at Troy, New York, and made the following address: