serfdom extant, even in the mildest form, then the colored race, or we, or perhaps both, have another war in store.  And so my work is not done till the last black man can declare in the full face of the world, “I am a man and a brother.”

In June, as the expected little stranger had arrived safe, Miss Anthony accepted an invitation to deliver the Fourth of July address at Ottumwa, and then went through her inevitable agony whenever she had a speech to prepare.  She took the stage for Topeka, finding among her fellow-passengers her relative, Major Scott Anthony, with Mr. Butterfield of the Overland Dispatch, and the long, hot, dusty ride was enlivened by an animated discussion of the political questions of the day.  During this drive over the unbroken prairies, she made the prediction that, given a few decades of thrift, they would be dotted with farms, orchards and villages and the State would be a paradise.

Miss Anthony was among the first of the Abolitionists to declare that the negroes must have the suffrage, one of the most unpopular ideas ever broached, and she writes:  “As fearless, radical and independent as my brother is, he will not allow my opinions on this subject to go into his paper.”  At Topeka she spoke to a large audience in the Methodist church on this question.  In order to reach Ottumwa she had to ride 125 miles by stage in the heat of July, and her expenses were considerable.  No price had been guaranteed for her address, but she learned to her surprise that she was expected to make it a gratuitous offering, as was the custom on account of the poverty of the people.  They came from miles around and were enthusiastic over her speech on “President Johnson’s Mississippi Reconstruction Proclamation.”  The Republicans insisted that she should put her notes in shape for publication, but urged her to leave out the paragraph on woman suffrage.[34]

The other speakers were Sidney Clark, M.C., and a professor from Lawrence University.  They were entertained by a prominent official who had just built a new house, the upper story of which was unfinished.  It was divided into three rooms by hanging up army blankets, and each of the orators was assigned to one of these apartments.  Miss Anthony was so exhausted from the long stage-ride, the speaking and the heat, that she scarcely could get ready for bed, but no sooner had she touched the pillow than she was assailed by a species of animals noted for the welcome they extended to travellers in the early history of Kansas.  Her dilemma was excruciating.  Should she lie still and be eaten alive, or should she get up, strike a light and probably rouse the honorable gentlemen on the other side of the army blankets?  A few minutes decided the question; she slipped out of bed, lighted her tallow dip and reconnoitered.  Then she blew out her light, and sat by the window till morning.