and the great congregation filled not only all the
pews, but the aisles, the platform, and even the

steps of the pulpit. The ushers were young women
from the University of Upsala, wearing white uni-

versity caps with black vizors, and sashes in the
university colors. The anthem was composed es-

pecially for the occasion by the first woman cathe-
dral organist in Sweden--the organist of the cathe-

dral in Gothenburg--and she had brought with her
thirty members of her choir, all of them remarkable

singers.
The whole occasion was indescribably impressive,

and I realized in every fiber the necessity of being
worthy of it. Also, I experienced a sensation such

as I had never known before, and which I can only
describe as a seeming complete separation of my

physical self from my spiritual self. It was as if my
body stood aside and watched my soul enter that

pulpit. There was no uncertainty, no nervousness,
though usually I am very nervous when I begin to

speak; and when I had finished I knew that I had
done my best.

But all this is a long way from the early days I
was discussing, when I was making my first diffident

bows to lecture audiences and learning the lessons
of the pioneer in the lecture-field. I was soon to

learn more, for in 1888 Miss Anthony persuaded me
to drop my temperance work and concentrate my

energies on the suffrage cause. For a long time I
hesitated. I was very happy in my connection

with the Woman's Christian Temperance Union,
and I knew that Miss Willard was depending on me

to continue it. But Miss Anthony's arguments
were irrefutable, and she was herself, as always,

irresistible.
``You can't win two causes at once,'' she reminded

me. ``You're merely scattering your energies. Be-
gin at the beginning. Win suffrage for women, and

the rest will follow.'' As an added argument, she
took me with her on her Kansas campaign, and after

that no further arguments were needed. From then
until her death, eighteen years later, Miss Anthony

and I worked shoulder to shoulder.
The most interesting lecture episode of our first

Kansas campaign was my debate with Senator John
J. Ingalls. Before this, however, on our arrival

at Atchison, Mrs. Ingalls gave a luncheon for Miss
Anthony, and Rachel Foster Avery and I were also

invited. Miss Anthony sat at the right of Senator
Ingalls, and I at his left, while Mrs. Ingalls, of course,

adorned the opposite end of her table. Mrs. Avery
and I had just been entertained for several days at

the home of a vegetarian friend who did not know
how to cook vegetables, and we were both half

starved. When we were invited to the Ingalls home
we had uttered in unison a joyous cry, ``Now we shall

have something to eat!'' At the luncheon, however,
Senator Ingalls kept Miss Anthony and me talking

steadily. He was not in favor of suffrage for women,
but he wished to know all sorts of things about the

Cause, and we were anxious to have him know them.
The result was that I had time for only an occasional

mouthful, while down at the end of the table Mrs.
Avery ate and ate, pausing only to send me glances

of heartfelt sympathy. Also, whenever she had an
especially toothsome morsel on the end of her fork

she wickedly succeeded in catching my eye and thus
adding the last sybaritic touch to her enjoyment.

Notwithstanding the wealth of knowledge we had
bestowed upon him, or perhaps because of it, the

following night Senator Ingalls made his famous
speech against suffrage, and it fell to my lot to

answer him. In the course of his remarks he asked
this question: ``Would you like to add three million

illiterate voters to the large body of illiterate voters
we have in America to-day?'' The audience ap-

plauded light-heartedly, but I was disturbed by the
sophistry of the question. One of Senator Ingalls's

most discussed personal peculiarities was the parting
of his hair in the middle. Cartoonists and news-

paper writers always made much of this, so when I
rose to reply I felt justified in mentioning it.

``Senator Ingalls,'' I began, ``parts his hair in the
middle, as we all know, but he makes up for it by

parting his figures on one side. Last night he gave
you the short side of his figures. At the present time

there are in the United States about eighteen million
women of voting age. When the Senator asked

whether you wanted three million additionalilliterate
women voters, he forgot to ask also if you didn't want

fifteen million additionalintelligent women voters!
We will grant that it will take the votes of three

million intelligent women to wipe out the votes of
three million illiterate women. But don't forget that

that would still leave us twelve million intelligent
votes to the good!''

The audience applauded as gaily as it had ap-
plauded Senator Ingalls when he spoke on the other

side, and I continued:
``Now women have always been generous to men.

So of our twelve million intelligent voters we will
offer four million to offset the votes of the four

million illiterate men in this country--and then
we will still have eight million intelligent votes to

add to the other intelligent votes which are cast.''
The audience seemed to enjoy this.

``The anti-suffragists are fairly safe,'' I ended,
``as long as they remain on the plane of prophecy.

But as soon as they tacklemathematics they get
into trouble!''

Miss Anthony was much pleased by the wide
publicity given to this debate, but Senator Ingalls

failed to share her enthusiasm.
It was shortly after this encounter that I had

two traveling experiences which nearly cost me my
life. One of them occurred in Ohio at the time of

a spring freshet. I know of no state that can cover
itself with water as completely as Ohio can, and for

no apparent reason. On this occasion it was break-
ing its own record. We had driven twenty miles

across country in a buggy which was barely out of the
water, and behind horses that at times were almost

forced to swim, and when we got near the town
where I was to lecture, though still on the opposite

side of the river from it, we discovered that the
bridge was gone. We had a good view of the town,