章节正文
Many days, and in all kinds of weather, we rode
forty and fifty miles in uncovered wagons. Many
nights we shared a one-room cabin with all the mem-
bers of the family. But the greatest hardship we
suffered was the lack of water. There was very
little good water in the state, and the purest water
was so brackish that we could hardly drink it. The
more we drank the thirstier we became, and when
the water was made into tea it tasted worse than
when it was clear. A bath was the rarest of luxuries.
The only available fuel was buffalomanure, of which
the odor permeated all our food. But despite these
handicaps we were happy in our work, for we had
some great meetings and many wonderful experiences.
When we reached the Black Hills we had more of
this genuine campaigning. We traveled over the
mountains in wagons, behind teams of horses, visit-
ing the mining-camps; and often the gullies were so
deep that when our horses got into them it was al-
most impossible to get them out. I recall with
special clearness one ride from Hill City to Custer
City. It was only a matter of thirty miles, but it was
thoroughly exhausting; and after our meeting that
same night we had to drive forty miles farther over
the mountains to get the early morning train from
Buffalo Gap. The trail from Custer City to Buffalo
Gap was the one the animals had originally made in
their journeys over the pass, and the drive in that
wild region, throughout a cold, piercing October
night, was an unforgetable experience. Our host at
Custer City lent Miss Anthony his big buffalo over-
coat, and his wife lent hers to me. They also heated
blocks of wood for our feet, and with these pro-
tections we started. A full moon hung in the sky.
The trees were covered with hoar-frost, and the cold,
still air seemed to sparkle in the brilliant light.
Again Miss Anthony talked to me throughout the
night--of the work, always of the work, and of what
it would mean to the women who followed us; and
again she fired my soul with the flame that burned
so steadily in her own.
It was daylight when we reached the little sta-
tion at Buffalo Gap where we were to take the
train. This was not due, however, for half an hour,
and even then it did not come. The station was
only large enough to hold the stove, the ticket-office,
and the inevitable cuspidor. There was barely
room in which to walk between these and the wall.
Miss Anthony sat down on the floor. I had a few
raisins in my bag, and we divided them for breakfast.
An hour passed, and another, and still the train did
not come. Miss Anthony, her back braced against
the wall, buried her face in her hands and dropped
into a peaceful abyss of slumber, while I walked
restlessly up and down the platform. The train
arrived four hours late, and when eventually we had
reached our destination we learned that the min-
isters of the town had persuaded the women to give
up the suffrage meeting scheduled for that night, as
it was Sunday.
This disappointment, following our all-day and
all-night drive to keep our appointment, aroused
Miss Anthony's fighting spirit. She sent me out to
rent the theater for the evening, and to have some
hand-bills printed and distributed, announcing that
we would speak. At three o'clock she made the
concession to her seventy years of lying down for
an hour's rest. I was young and vigorous, so I
trotted around town to get somebody to preside,
somebody to introduce us, somebody to take up
the collection, and somebody who would provide
music--in short, to make all our preparations for
the night meeting.
When evening came the crowd which had assem-
bled was so great that men and women sat in the
windows and on the stage, and stood in the flies.
Night attractions were rare in that Dakota town,
and here was something new. Nobody went to
church, so the churches were forced to close. We
had a glorious meeting. Both Miss Anthony and I
were in excellent fighting trim, and Miss Anthony
remarked that the only thing lacking to make me
do my best was a sick headache. The collection we
took up paid all our expenses, the church singers
sang for us, the great audience was interested, and
the whole occasion was an inspiring success.
The meeting ended about half after ten o'clock,
and I remember taking Miss Anthony to our hotel
and escorting her to her room. I also remember
that she followed me to the door and made some
laughing remark as I left for my own room; but I
recall nothing more until the next morning when
she stood beside me telling me it was time for break-
fast. She had found me lying on the cover of my
bed, fully clothed even to my bonnet and shoes.
I had fallen there, utterly exhausted, when I entered
my room the night before, and I do not think I had
even moved from that time until the moment--
nine hours later--when I heard her voice and felt
her hand on my shoulder.
After all our work, we did not win Dakota that
year, but Miss Anthony bore the disappointment
with the serenity she always showed. To her a
failure was merely another opportunity, and I men-
tion our experience here only to show of what she
was capable in her gallant seventies. But I should
misrepresent her if I did not show her human and
sentimental side as well. With all her detachment
from human needs she had emotional moments, and
of these the most satisfying came when she was
listening to music. She knew nothing whatever
about music, but was deeply moved by it; and I re-
member vividly one occasion when Nordica sang
for her, at an afternoon reception given by a Chicago
friend in ``Aunt Susan's'' honor. As it happened,
she had never heard Nordica sing until that day;
and before the music began the great artiste and the
great leader met, and in the moment of meeting
became friends. When Nordica sang, half an hour
later, she sang directly to Miss Anthony, looking
into her eyes; and ``Aunt Susan'' listened with her
own eyes full of tears. When the last notes had been
sung she went to the singer and put both arms
around her. The music had carried her back to her
girlhood and to the sentiment of sixteen.
``Oh, Nordica,'' she sighed, ``I could die listening
to such singing!''
Another example of her unquenchable youth has
also a Chicago setting. During the World's Fair a
certain clergyman made an especially violent stand
in favor of closing the Fair grounds on Sunday.
Miss Anthony took issue with him.
``If I had charge of a young man in Chicago at this
time,'' she told the clergyman, ``I would much
rather have him locked inside the Fair grounds on
Sunday or any other day than have him going
about on the outside.''
The clergyman was horrified. ``Would you like
to have a son of yours go to Buffalo Bill's Wild West
Show on Sunday?'' he demanded.
``Of course I would,'' admitted Miss Anthony.
``In fact, I think he would learn more there than
from the sermons preached in some churches.''
Later this remark was repeated to Colonel Cody
(``Buffalo Bill''), who, of course, was delighted with
it. He at once wrote to Miss Anthony, thanking
her for the breadth of her views, and offering her a
box for his ``Show.'' She had no strong desire
to see the performance, but some of us urged her to
accept the invitation and to take us with her. She
was always ready to do anything that would give
us pleasure, so she promised that we should go the
next afternoon. Others heard of the jaunt and
begged to go also, and Miss Anthony blithely took
every applicant under her wing, with the result that
when we arrived at the box-office the next day
there were twelve of us in the group. When she
presented her note and asked for a box, the local
manager looked doubtfully at the delegation.
``A box only holds six,'' he objected, logically.
Miss Anthony, who had given no thought to that
slight detail, looked us over and smiled her seraphic
smile.
``Why, in that case,'' she said, cheerfully, ``you'll
have to give us two boxes, won't you?''
The amused managerdecided that he would, and
handed her the tickets; and she led her band to
their places in triumph. When the performance be-
gan Colonel Cody, as was his custom, entered the
arena from the far end of the building, riding his
wonderful horse and bathed, of course, in the efful-
gence of his faithful spot-light. He rode directly
to our boxes, reined his horse in front of Miss An-
thony, rose in his stirrups, and with his characteris-
tic gesture swept his slouch-hat to his saddle-bow in
salutation. ``Aunt Susan'' immediately rose, bowed
in her turn and, for the moment as enthusiastic as a
girl, waved her handkerchief at him, while the big
audience, catching the spirit of the scene, wildly
applauded. It was a striking picture this meeting
of the pioneer man and woman; and, poor as I am,
I would give a hundred dollars for a snapshot of it.
On many occasions I saw instances of Miss An-
thony's prescience--and one of these was connected
with the death of Frances E. Willard. ``Aunt
Susan'' had called on Miss Willard, and, coming to
me from the sick-room, had walked the floor, beating
her hands together as she talked of the visit.
``Frances Willard is dying,'' she exclaimed, pas-
sionately. ``She is dying, and she doesn't know it,
and no one around her realizes it. She is lying there,
seeing into two worlds, and making more plans than
a thousand women could carry out in ten years.
Her brain is wonderful. She has the most extraor-
dinary clearness of vision. There should be a stenog-
rapher in that room, and every word she utters
should be taken down, for every word is golden.
But they don't understand. They can't realize that
she is going. I told Anna Gordon the truth, but she
won't believe it.''
Miss Willard died a few days later, with a sudden-
forty and fifty miles in uncovered wagons. Many
nights we shared a one-room cabin with all the mem-
bers of the family. But the greatest hardship we
suffered was the lack of water. There was very
little good water in the state, and the purest water
was so brackish that we could hardly drink it. The
more we drank the thirstier we became, and when
the water was made into tea it tasted worse than
when it was clear. A bath was the rarest of luxuries.
The only available fuel was buffalomanure, of which
the odor permeated all our food. But despite these
handicaps we were happy in our work, for we had
some great meetings and many wonderful experiences.
When we reached the Black Hills we had more of
this genuine campaigning. We traveled over the
mountains in wagons, behind teams of horses, visit-
ing the mining-camps; and often the gullies were so
deep that when our horses got into them it was al-
most impossible to get them out. I recall with
special clearness one ride from Hill City to Custer
City. It was only a matter of thirty miles, but it was
thoroughly exhausting; and after our meeting that
same night we had to drive forty miles farther over
the mountains to get the early morning train from
Buffalo Gap. The trail from Custer City to Buffalo
Gap was the one the animals had originally made in
their journeys over the pass, and the drive in that
wild region, throughout a cold, piercing October
night, was an unforgetable experience. Our host at
Custer City lent Miss Anthony his big buffalo over-
coat, and his wife lent hers to me. They also heated
blocks of wood for our feet, and with these pro-
tections we started. A full moon hung in the sky.
The trees were covered with hoar-frost, and the cold,
still air seemed to sparkle in the brilliant light.
Again Miss Anthony talked to me throughout the
night--of the work, always of the work, and of what
it would mean to the women who followed us; and
again she fired my soul with the flame that burned
so steadily in her own.
It was daylight when we reached the little sta-
tion at Buffalo Gap where we were to take the
train. This was not due, however, for half an hour,
and even then it did not come. The station was
only large enough to hold the stove, the ticket-office,
and the inevitable cuspidor. There was barely
room in which to walk between these and the wall.
Miss Anthony sat down on the floor. I had a few
raisins in my bag, and we divided them for breakfast.
An hour passed, and another, and still the train did
not come. Miss Anthony, her back braced against
the wall, buried her face in her hands and dropped
into a peaceful abyss of slumber, while I walked
restlessly up and down the platform. The train
arrived four hours late, and when eventually we had
reached our destination we learned that the min-
isters of the town had persuaded the women to give
up the suffrage meeting scheduled for that night, as
it was Sunday.
This disappointment, following our all-day and
all-night drive to keep our appointment, aroused
Miss Anthony's fighting spirit. She sent me out to
rent the theater for the evening, and to have some
hand-bills printed and distributed, announcing that
we would speak. At three o'clock she made the
concession to her seventy years of lying down for
an hour's rest. I was young and vigorous, so I
trotted around town to get somebody to preside,
somebody to introduce us, somebody to take up
the collection, and somebody who would provide
music--in short, to make all our preparations for
the night meeting.
When evening came the crowd which had assem-
bled was so great that men and women sat in the
windows and on the stage, and stood in the flies.
Night attractions were rare in that Dakota town,
and here was something new. Nobody went to
church, so the churches were forced to close. We
had a glorious meeting. Both Miss Anthony and I
were in excellent fighting trim, and Miss Anthony
remarked that the only thing lacking to make me
do my best was a sick headache. The collection we
took up paid all our expenses, the church singers
sang for us, the great audience was interested, and
the whole occasion was an inspiring success.
The meeting ended about half after ten o'clock,
and I remember taking Miss Anthony to our hotel
and escorting her to her room. I also remember
that she followed me to the door and made some
laughing remark as I left for my own room; but I
recall nothing more until the next morning when
she stood beside me telling me it was time for break-
fast. She had found me lying on the cover of my
bed, fully clothed even to my bonnet and shoes.
I had fallen there, utterly exhausted, when I entered
my room the night before, and I do not think I had
even moved from that time until the moment--
nine hours later--when I heard her voice and felt
her hand on my shoulder.
After all our work, we did not win Dakota that
year, but Miss Anthony bore the disappointment
with the serenity she always showed. To her a
failure was merely another opportunity, and I men-
tion our experience here only to show of what she
was capable in her gallant seventies. But I should
misrepresent her if I did not show her human and
sentimental side as well. With all her detachment
from human needs she had emotional moments, and
of these the most satisfying came when she was
listening to music. She knew nothing whatever
about music, but was deeply moved by it; and I re-
member vividly one occasion when Nordica sang
for her, at an afternoon reception given by a Chicago
friend in ``Aunt Susan's'' honor. As it happened,
she had never heard Nordica sing until that day;
and before the music began the great artiste and the
great leader met, and in the moment of meeting
became friends. When Nordica sang, half an hour
later, she sang directly to Miss Anthony, looking
into her eyes; and ``Aunt Susan'' listened with her
own eyes full of tears. When the last notes had been
sung she went to the singer and put both arms
around her. The music had carried her back to her
girlhood and to the sentiment of sixteen.
``Oh, Nordica,'' she sighed, ``I could die listening
to such singing!''
Another example of her unquenchable youth has
also a Chicago setting. During the World's Fair a
certain clergyman made an especially violent stand
in favor of closing the Fair grounds on Sunday.
Miss Anthony took issue with him.
``If I had charge of a young man in Chicago at this
time,'' she told the clergyman, ``I would much
rather have him locked inside the Fair grounds on
Sunday or any other day than have him going
about on the outside.''
The clergyman was horrified. ``Would you like
to have a son of yours go to Buffalo Bill's Wild West
Show on Sunday?'' he demanded.
``Of course I would,'' admitted Miss Anthony.
``In fact, I think he would learn more there than
from the sermons preached in some churches.''
Later this remark was repeated to Colonel Cody
(``Buffalo Bill''), who, of course, was delighted with
it. He at once wrote to Miss Anthony, thanking
her for the breadth of her views, and offering her a
box for his ``Show.'' She had no strong desire
to see the performance, but some of us urged her to
accept the invitation and to take us with her. She
was always ready to do anything that would give
us pleasure, so she promised that we should go the
next afternoon. Others heard of the jaunt and
begged to go also, and Miss Anthony blithely took
every applicant under her wing, with the result that
when we arrived at the box-office the next day
there were twelve of us in the group. When she
presented her note and asked for a box, the local
manager looked doubtfully at the delegation.
``A box only holds six,'' he objected, logically.
Miss Anthony, who had given no thought to that
slight detail, looked us over and smiled her seraphic
smile.
``Why, in that case,'' she said, cheerfully, ``you'll
have to give us two boxes, won't you?''
The amused managerdecided that he would, and
handed her the tickets; and she led her band to
their places in triumph. When the performance be-
gan Colonel Cody, as was his custom, entered the
arena from the far end of the building, riding his
wonderful horse and bathed, of course, in the efful-
gence of his faithful spot-light. He rode directly
to our boxes, reined his horse in front of Miss An-
thony, rose in his stirrups, and with his characteris-
tic gesture swept his slouch-hat to his saddle-bow in
salutation. ``Aunt Susan'' immediately rose, bowed
in her turn and, for the moment as enthusiastic as a
girl, waved her handkerchief at him, while the big
audience, catching the spirit of the scene, wildly
applauded. It was a striking picture this meeting
of the pioneer man and woman; and, poor as I am,
I would give a hundred dollars for a snapshot of it.
On many occasions I saw instances of Miss An-
thony's prescience--and one of these was connected
with the death of Frances E. Willard. ``Aunt
Susan'' had called on Miss Willard, and, coming to
me from the sick-room, had walked the floor, beating
her hands together as she talked of the visit.
``Frances Willard is dying,'' she exclaimed, pas-
sionately. ``She is dying, and she doesn't know it,
and no one around her realizes it. She is lying there,
seeing into two worlds, and making more plans than
a thousand women could carry out in ten years.
Her brain is wonderful. She has the most extraor-
dinary clearness of vision. There should be a stenog-
rapher in that room, and every word she utters
should be taken down, for every word is golden.
But they don't understand. They can't realize that
she is going. I told Anna Gordon the truth, but she
won't believe it.''
Miss Willard died a few days later, with a sudden-
- available [ə´veiləbəl]
a.可用的；有效的 (初中英语单词) - despite [di´spait] prep.尽管 (初中英语单词)
- sparkle [´spɑ:kəl] vi.闪耀；焕发 n.火花 (初中英语单词)
- brilliant [´briliənt] a.灿烂的；杰出的 (初中英语单词)
- steadily [´stedili] ad.坚定地；不断地 (初中英语单词)
- daylight [´deilait] n.日光；黎明 (初中英语单词)
- peaceful [´pi:sfəl] a.和平的；平静的 (初中英语单词)
- slumber [´slʌmbə] v.&n.睡眠；沉睡状态 (初中英语单词)
- platform [´plætfɔ:m] n.(平)台；讲台；站台 (初中英语单词)
- disappointment [,disə´pɔintmənt] n.失望；挫折 (初中英语单词)
- collection [kə´lekʃən] n.收集；征收；募捐 (初中英语单词)
- glorious [´glɔ:riəs] a.光荣的；辉煌的 (初中英语单词)
- audience [´ɔ:diəns] n.听众；观众；接见 (初中英语单词)
- capable [´keipəbəl] a.有能力；能干的 (初中英语单词)
- gallant [´gælənt, gə´lænt] a.英勇的；华丽的 (初中英语单词)
- emotional [i´məuʃənəl] a.易动感情的；情感的 (初中英语单词)
- singer [´siŋə] n.歌手，演唱者 (初中英语单词)
- sentiment [´sentimənt] n.情绪；多愁善感 (初中英语单词)
- violent [´vaiələnt] a.强暴的；猛烈的 (初中英语单词)
- charge [tʃɑ:dʒ] v.收费；冲锋 n.费用 (初中英语单词)
- performance [pə´fɔ:məns] n.履行；行为；工作 (初中英语单词)
- invitation [,invi´teiʃən] n.邀请；请帖；吸引 (初中英语单词)
- manager [´mænidʒə] n.经理；管理人；干事 (初中英语单词)
- triumph [´traiəmf] n.胜利 vi.得胜，战胜 (初中英语单词)
- faithful [´feiθfəl] a.忠实的；可靠的 (初中英语单词)
- gesture [´dʒestʃə] n.手势 v.打手势 (初中英语单词)
- handkerchief [´hæŋkətʃif] n.手帕，手绢 (初中英语单词)
- striking [´straikiŋ] a.显著的，明显的 (初中英语单词)
- pioneer [,paiə´niə] n.拓荒者 v.开辟；倡导 (初中英语单词)
- vision [´viʒən] n.视觉；想象力；幻影 (初中英语单词)
- hardship [´hɑ:dʃip] n.受苦，吃苦；苦难 (高中英语单词)
- buffalo [´bʌfələu] n.水牛；野牛 (高中英语单词)
- genuine [´dʒenjuin] a.真正的；真诚的 (高中英语单词)
- originally [ə´ridʒənəli] ad.本来；独创地 (高中英语单词)
- inevitable [i´nevitəbəl] a.不可避免的 (高中英语单词)
- destination [,desti´neiʃən] n.目标地 (高中英语单词)
- learned [´lə:nid] a.有学问的，博学的 (高中英语单词)
- suffrage [´sʌfridʒ] n.投票(权)，选举权 (高中英语单词)
- vigorous [´vigərəs] a.精力旺盛的；健壮的 (高中英语单词)
- dakota [də´kəutə] n.&a.达科他人(语) (高中英语单词)
- headache [´hedeik] n.头痛；使人头痛的事 (高中英语单词)
- bonnet [´bɔnit] n.无边女帽；童帽 (高中英语单词)
- reception [ri´sepʃən] n.接待；欢迎；招待会 (高中英语单词)
- clergyman [´klə:dʒimən] n.牧师；教士 (高中英语单词)
- repeated [ri´pi:tid] a.反复的；重复的 (高中英语单词)
- colonel [´kə:nəl] n.海(陆)军上校 (高中英语单词)
- breadth [bredθ] n.宽度，幅面，广度 (高中英语单词)
- offering [´ɔfəriŋ] n.提供；礼物；捐献 (高中英语单词)
- applicant [´æplikənt] n.请求者；申请人 (高中英语单词)
- cheerfully [´tʃiəfuli] ad.高兴地，愉快地 (高中英语单词)
- decided [di´saidid] a.明显的；决定的 (高中英语单词)
- enthusiastic [inθju:zi´æstik] a.热情的，热心的 (高中英语单词)
- manure [mə´njuə] n.粪肥 vt.施肥于 (英语四级单词)
- traveled [´trævəld] a.见面广的；旅客多的 (英语四级单词)
- eventually [i´ventʃuəli] ad.最后，终于 (英语四级单词)
- chicago [ʃi´kɑ:gəu] n.芝加哥 (英语四级单词)
- setting [´setiŋ] n.安装；排字；布景 (英语四级单词)
- delighted [di´laitid] a.高兴的；喜欢的 (英语四级单词)
- clearness [´kliənis] n.清楚；明白；明确 (英语六级单词)
- piercing [´piəsiŋ] a.刺(贯)穿的；尖刻的 (英语六级单词)
- lacking [´lækiŋ] a.缺少的，没有的 (英语六级单词)
- taking [´teikiŋ] a.迷人的 n.捕获物 (英语六级单词)
- vividly [´vividli] ad.活泼地；生动地 (英语六级单词)
- doubtfully [´dautfuli] ad.怀疑地，可疑地 (英语六级单词)
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章节正文
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