stout fellow, vehement in manner and speech, who danced about the floor, as he laid down the law, in the most original and comical manner.  As Mr. Stanton had never seen him before, the hour to him was one of constant struggle to maintain his equilibrium.  I had sat under his ministrations for several years, and was accustomed to his rhetoric, accent, and gestures, and thus was able to go through the ordeal in a calmer state of mind.

Sister Madge, who had stood by me bravely through all my doubts and anxieties, went with us to New York and saw us on board the vessel.  My sister Harriet and her husband, Daniel C. Eaton, a merchant in New York city, were also there.  He and I had had for years a standing game of “tag” at all our partings, and he had vowed to send me “tagged” to Europe.  I was equally determined that he should not.  Accordingly, I had a desperate chase after him all over the vessel, but in vain.  He had the last “tag” and escaped.  As I was compelled, under the circumstances, to conduct the pursuit with some degree of decorum, and he had the advantage of height, long limbs, and freedom from skirts, I really stood no chance whatever.  However, as the chase kept us all laughing, it helped to soften the bitterness of parting.

[Illustration:  H.B.  Stanton] [Illustration:  MRS. STANTON AND DAUGHTER, 1857.]

Fairly at sea, I closed another chapter of my life, and my thoughts turned to what lay in the near future.  James G. Birney, the anti-slavery nominee for the presidency of the United States, joined us in New York, and was a fellow-passenger on the Montreal for England.  He and my husband were delegates to the World’s Anti-slavery Convention, and both interested themselves in my anti-slavery education.  They gave me books to read, and, as we paced the deck day by day, the question was the chief theme of our conversation.

Mr. Birney was a polished gentleman of the old school, and was excessively proper and punctilious in manner and conversation.  I soon perceived that he thought I needed considerable toning down before reaching England.  I was quick to see and understand that his criticisms of others in a general way and the drift of his discourses on manners and conversation had a nearer application than he intended I should discover, though he hoped I would profit by them.  I was always grateful to anyone who took an interest in my improvement, so I laughingly told him, one day, that he need not make his criticisms any longer in that roundabout way, but might take me squarely in hand and polish me up as speedily as possible.  Sitting in the saloon at night after a game of chess, in which, perchance, I had been the victor, I felt complacent and would sometimes say: 

“Well, what have I said or done to-day open to criticism?”

So, in the most gracious manner, he replied on one occasion: 

“You went to the masthead in a chair, which I think very unladylike.  I heard you call your husband ‘Henry’ in the presence of strangers, which is not permissible in polite society.  You should always say ’Mr. Stanton.’  You have taken three moves back in this game.”