an evening meeting, so we agreed to pay him $5.  He had a noble pair of greys and we floundered through the deepest snowbanks I ever saw, but at 7 o’clock were still fourteen miles from Attica.

We stopped at a little tavern where the landlady was not yet twenty and had a baby fifteen months old.  Her supper dishes were not washed and her baby was crying, but she was equal to the occasion.  She rocked the little thing to sleep, washed the dishes and got our supper; beautiful white bread, butter, cheese, pickles, apple and mince pie, and excellent peach preserves.  She gave us her warm bedroom to sleep in, and on a row of pegs hung the loveliest embroidered petticoats and baby clothes, all the work of that young woman’s fingers, while on a rack was her ironing perfectly done, wrought undersleeves, baby dresses, embroidered underwear, etc.  She prepared a 6 o’clock breakfast for us, fried pork, mashed potatoes, mince pie, and for me, at my especial request, a plate of delicious baked sweet apples and a pitcher of rich milk.  Now for the moral of this story:  When we came to pay our bill, the dolt of a husband took the money and put it in his pocket.  He had not lifted a hand to lighten that woman’s burdens, but had sat and talked with the men in the bar room, not even caring for the baby, yet the law gives him the right to every dollar she earns, and when she needs two cents to buy a darning needle she has to ask him and explain what she wants it for.

Here where I am writing is a similar case.  The baby is very sick with the whooping cough; the wife has dinner to get for all the boarders, and no help; husband standing around with his hands in his pockets.  She begs him to hold the baby for just ten minutes, but before the time is up he hands it back to her, saying, “Here, take this child, I’m tired.”  Yet when we left he was on hand to receive the money and we had to give it to him.  We paid a man a dollar to take us to the station, and saw the train pull out while we were stuck in a snowdrift ten feet deep, with a dozen men trying to shovel a path for us; so we had to come back.  In spite of this terrible weather, people drive eight and ten miles to our meetings.

On January 20, Mrs. Gage was called home by illness in her family, leaving Miss Anthony to finish the campaign alone.  This destroyed all plans for her work with the anti-slavery committee, as no inducement could have been offered which would cause her to abandon these woman’s rights meetings after having advertised them.  She requested Mr. May to release her and he did so, stipulating however that she should inform him as soon as she was at liberty.  She begged various speakers to assist her but received no favorable replies.  Lucy Stone wrote, “I wish you had a good husband; it is a great blessing.”  Her intense desire for help may be judged by a letter to Martha C. Wright in regard to a meeting which had been announced for Auburn:  “Mrs. Gage has