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day. One morning she said abruptly, ``Anna, let's
go and call on President M. Carey Thomas, of

Bryn Mawr.''
I wrote a note to Miss Thomas, telling her of Miss

Anthony's desire to see her, and received an im-
mediate reply inviting us to luncheon the following

day. We found Miss Thomas deep in the work
connected with her new college buildings, over which

she showed us with much pride. Miss Anthony, of
course, gloried in the splendid results Miss Thomas

had achieved, but she was, for her, strangely silent
and preoccupied. At luncheon she said:

``Miss Thomas, your buildings are beautiful;
your new library is a marvel; but they are not the

cause of our presence here.''
``No,'' Miss Thomas said; ``I know you have

something on your mind. I am waiting for you to
tell me what it is.''

``We want your co-operation, and that of Miss
Garrett,'' began Miss Anthony, promptly, ``to make

our Baltimore Convention a success. We want you
to persuade the Arundel Club of Baltimore, the

most fashionable club in the city, to give a recep-
tion to the delegates; and we want you to arrange

a college night on the programme--a great college
night, with the best college speakers ever brought

together.''
These were large commissions for two extremely

busy women, but both Miss Thomas and Miss
Garrett--realizing Miss Anthony's intense earnest-

ness--promised to think over the suggestions and
see what they could do. The next morning we re-

ceived a telegram from them stating that Miss
Thomas would arrange the college evening, and that

Miss Garrett would reopen her Baltimore home,
which she had closed, during the convention. She

also invited Miss Anthony and me to be her guests
there, and added that she would try to arrange the

reception by the Arundel Club.
``Aunt Susan'' was overjoyed. I have never seen

her happier than she was over the receipt of that
telegram. She knew that whatever Miss Thomas

and Miss Garrett undertook would be accomplished,
and she rightly regarded the success of the conven-

tion as already assured. Her expectations were
more than realized. The college evening was un-

doubtedly the most brilliant occasion of its kind
ever arranged for a convention. President Ira

Remsen of Johns Hopkins University presided, and
addresses were made by President Mary E. Woolley

of Mount Holyoke, Professor Lucy Salmon of Vassar,
Professor Mary Jordan of Smith, President Thomas

herself, and many others.
From beginning to end the convention was prob-

ably the most notable yet held in our history.
Julia Ward Howe and her daughter, Florence Howe

Hall, were also guests of Miss Garrett, who, more-
over, entertained all the speakers of ``College Night.''

Miss Anthony, now eighty-six, arrived in Baltimore
quite ill, and Mrs. Howe, who was ninety, was taken

ill soon after she reached there. The two great
women made a dramatic exchange on the programme,

for on the first night, when Miss Anthony was un-
able to speak, Mrs. Howe took her place, and on the

second night, when Mrs. Howe had succumbed,
Miss Anthony had recovered sufficiently to appear

for her. Clara Barton was also an honored figure
at the convention, and Miss Anthony's joy in the

presence of all these old and dear friends was over-
flowing. With them, too, were the younger women,

ready to take up and carry on the work the old
leaders were laying down; and ``Aunt Susan,'' as

she surveyed them all, felt like a general whose
superb army is passing in review before him.

At the close of the college programme, when the
final address had been made by Miss Thomas, Miss

Anthony rose and in a few words expressed her
feeling that her life-work was done, and her con-

sciousness of the near approach of the end. After
that night she was unable to appear, and was indeed

so ill that she was confined to her bed in Miss Gar-
rett's most hospitable home. Nothing could have

been more thoughtful or more beautiful than the
care Miss Garrett and Miss Thomas bestowed on her.

They engaged for her one of the best physicians in
Baltimore, who, in turn, consulted with the leading

specialists of Johns Hopkins, and they also secured
a trained nurse. This final attention required

special tact, for Miss Anthony's fear of ``giving
trouble'' was so great that she was not willing to

have a nurse. The nurse, therefore, wore a house-
maid's uniform, and ``Aunt Susan'' remained wholly

unconscious that she was being cared for by one of
the best nurses in the famous hospital.

Between sessions of the convention I used to
sit by ``Aunt Susan's'' bed and tell her what was

going on. She was triumphant over the immense
success of the convention, but it was clear that

she was still worrying over the details of future
work. One day at luncheon Miss Thomas asked

me, casually:
``By the way, how do you raise the money to

carry on your work?''
When I told her the work was wholly dependent

on voluntary contributions and on the services of
those who were willing to give themselves gratui-

tously to it, Miss Thomas was greatly surprised.
She and Miss Garrett asked a number of practical

questions, and at the end of our talk they looked at
each other.

``I don't think,'' said Miss Thomas, ``that we have
quite done our duty in this matter.''

The next day they invited a number of us to
dinner, to again discuss the situation; and they

admitted that they had sat up throughout the
previous night, talking the matter over and trying

to find some way to help us. They had also dis-
cussed the situation with Miss Anthony, to her vast

content, and had finally decided that they would
try to raise a fund of $60,000, to be paid in yearly

instalments of $12,000 for five years--part of these
annual instalments to be used as salaries for the

active officers.
The mere mention of so large a fund startled us

all. We feared that it could not possibly be raised.
But Miss Anthony plainly believed that now the

last great wish of her life had been granted. She
was convinced that Miss Thomas and Miss Gar-

rett could accomplish anything--even the miracle
of raising $60,000 for the suffrage cause--and they

did, though ``Aunt Susan'' was not here to glory
over the result when they had achieved it.

On the 15th of February we left Baltimore for
Washington, where Miss Anthony was to cele-

brate her eighty-sixth birthday. For many years
the National American Woman Suffrage Associa-

tion had celebrated our birthdays together, as hers
came on the 15th of the month and mine on the

14th. There had been an especially festivebanquet
when she was seventy-four and I was forty-seven,

and our friends had decorated the table with floral
``4's'' and ``7's''--the centerpiece representing ``74''

during the first half of the banquet, and ``47'' the
latter half. This time ``Aunt Susan'' should not

have attempted the Washington celebration, for she
was still ill and exhausted by the strain of the con-

vention. But standing" target="_blank" title="prep.&conj.虽然;还是">notwithstanding her sufferings and
the warnings of her physicians, she insisted on being

present; so Miss Garrett sent the trained nurse to
Washington with her, and we all tried to make the jour-

ney the least possible strain on the patient's vitality.
On our arrival in Washington we went to the

Shoreham, where, as always, the proprietor took pains
to give Miss Anthony a room with a view of the

Washington monument, which she greatly admired.
When I entered her room a little later I found her

standing at a window, holding herself up with hands
braced against the casement on either side, and so

absorbed in the view that she did not hear my ap-
proach. When I spoke to her she answered with-

out turning her head.
``That,'' she said, softly, ``is the most beautiful

monument in the world.''
I stood by her side, and together we looked at it

in silence I realizing with a sick heart that ``Aunt
Susan'' knew she was seeing it for the last time.

The birthday celebration that followed our exec-
utive meeting was an impressive one. It was held

in the Church of Our Father, whose pastor, the Rev.
John Van Schaick, had always been exceedingly kind

to Miss Anthony. Many prominent men spoke.
President Roosevelt and other statesmen sent most

friendly letters, and William H. Taft had promised to
be present. He did not come, nor did he, then or

later, send any excuse for not coming--an omission
that greatly disappointed Miss Anthony, who had

always admired him. I presided at the meeting,
and though we all did our best to make it gay, a

strange hush hung over the assemblage a solemn
stillness, such as one feels in the presence of death.

We became more and more conscious that Miss
Anthony was suffering, and we hastened the exer-

cises all we could. When I read President Roose-
velt's long tribute to her, Miss Anthony rose to

comment on it.
``One word from President Roosevelt in his mes-

sage to Congress,'' she said, a little wearily, ``would
be worth a thousand eulogies of Susan B. Anthony.

When will men learn that what we ask is not praise,
but justice?''

At the close of the meeting, realizing how weak
she was, I begged her to let me speak for her. But

she again rose, rested her hand on my shoulder,
and, standing by my side, uttered the last words

she ever spoke in public, pleading with women to
consecrate themselves to the Cause, assuring them

that no power could prevent its ultimate success,
but reminding them also that the time of its coming

would depend wholly on their work and their loyalty.
She ended with three words--very fitting words

from her lips, expressing as they did the spirit of her


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