DEAR S.B.A.:  I received your letter and its enclosure, which latter has already vanished like April snow, to pay the debts of the subscriber....  Our morning ride with our good friend Frederick gives me pleasure whenever I think of it.  Those pictures of Mount Hope and the waterfall were better than any in the Academy of Design.  As to yourself, I have had some talk with Rev. Oliver Johnson about your “sphere,” and we both agree that you are defrauding some honest man of his just due.  I recommend that you form an acquaintance, with a view to prospective results for life, with some well-settled, Old-School Presbyterian clergyman, and send me some of the cake.

[Autograph:  Theodore Tilton]

In 1862, as the previous year, Miss Anthony was determined to hold a National Woman’s Rights Convention in New York, but her efforts met with no favorable response and so, for the second time, she was obliged to give up the annual protest which seemed to her a sacred duty.  She did not then acknowledge, nor has she ever admitted, that there is any question of more vital importance than that relating to the freedom of woman.  Defeated here she decided to start out again in the anti-slavery lecture field, since, as she wrote her friend Lydia:  “It is so easy to feel your power for public work slipping away if you allow yourself to remain too long snuggled in the Abrahamic bosom of home.  It requires great will-force to resurrect one’s soul.”  In her tour she visited Adams, accompanied by her loved niece, Ann Eliza McLean, and wrote back an amusing account of how she lectured the male relatives for requiring their women folks to use worn-out cook-stoves, broken kitchen utensils and all sorts of inconvenient things in the household.  While there she went with a large party of relatives over the mountains to see the wonderful Hoosac Tunnel, now well under way.  One day she spoke to an audience on the very top of the Green mountains.  On this trip, having for a rarity a little leisure, she visited the art galleries of New York and wrote: 

My very heart of hearts has been made to rejoice in the work of two of earth’s noblest women—­Harriet Hosmer and Rosa Bonheur.  Twice have I visited the Academy of Design and there have I sat in silent, reverential awe, with eyes intent upon the marble face of Harriet Hosmer’s Beatrice Cenci.  I have no power to express my hope, my joy, my renewed faith in womanhood.  In the accomplishment of that grand work of the sculptor’s chisel, making that cold marble breathe and pulsate, Harriet Hosmer has done more to ennoble and elevate woman than she possibly could have done by mere words, it matters not how Godlike; though I would not ignore true words, for it is these which rouse to action the latent powers of the Harriet Hosmers....  Even the rude and uncultivated seem awed into silence when they come into the presence of that sleeping, but speaking purity.  Rosa Bonheur is the first woman who has dared venture