Toward the close of the second day’s session the subject under discussion was, “Why the profession of teacher is not as much respected as that of lawyer, doctor or minister?” After listening for several hours, Miss Anthony felt that the decisive moment had come and, rising in her seat, she said, “Mr. President.”  A bombshell would not have created greater commotion.  For the first time in all history a woman’s voice was heard in a teachers’ convention.  Every neck was craned and a profound hush fell upon the assembly.  Charles Davies, LL.  D., author of Davies’ text books and professor of mathematics at West Point, was president.  In full-dress costume with buff vest, blue coat and brass buttons, he was the Great Mogul.  At length recovering from the shock of being thus addressed by a woman, he leaned forward and asked with satirical politeness, “What will the lady have?” “I wish to speak to the question under discussion,” said Miss Anthony calmly, although her heart was beating a tattoo.  Turning to the few rows of men in front of him, for the women occupied the back seats, he inquired, “What is the pleasure of the convention?” “I move she shall be heard,” said one man; this was seconded by another, and thus was precipitated a debate which lasted half an hour, although she had precisely the same right to speak as any man who was taking part in the discussion.

She stood during all this time, fearing to lose the floor if she sat down.  At last a vote was taken, men only voting, and it was carried in the affirmative by a small majority.  Miss Anthony then said:  “It seems to me you fail to comprehend the cause of the disrespect of which you complain.  Do you not see that so long as society says woman has not brains enough to be a doctor, lawyer or minister, but has plenty to be a teacher, every man of you who condescends to teach, tacitly admits before all Israel and the sun that he has no more brains than a woman?”—­and sat down.  She had intended to draw the conclusion that the only way to place teaching upon a level with other professions was either to admit woman to them or exclude her from teaching, but her trembling limbs would sustain her no longer.

The convention soon adjourned for the day and, as Miss Anthony went out of the hall, many of the women drew away from her and said audibly:  “Did you ever see such a disgraceful performance?” “I never was so ashamed of my sex.”  But a few of them gathered about her and said:  “You have taught us our lesson and hereafter we propose to make ourselves heard.”

The next day, at the opening of the morning session, President Davies, who had evidently spent the night in preparing the greatest effort of his life, arose in all his majesty and was delivered of the following: