Politicians "Dare Not Stand by the Women."

365 union when she was seventy, took turns with Anna Gordon, ironing the "Big Petition" smooth as a shirt bosom. I used to take my little tin dinner-pail as of old in district school days, and go over to the Illinois State House every morning, some kind ladies being there with their sewing to stay with me, and we thus kept house for weeks. The state geologist let us fix up his room with flowers and birds and pretty home devices. A good temperance man was in attendance to take our cards in to the legislators when they were not busy, and we interviewed them man by man, setting down their names as plus or minus, according to their promises. One day all the grangers came in a body and pledged us their votes. Another, a party leader agreed to make the speech of presentation when our petition should come up, but a week later he came in and said the caucus (Republican) had threatened him; he had also, "heard from home and did n't dare to go back on the men that had voted him in." "If you women had votes, and could reward them that stood by you and punish them as would n't, your bill would be all right," he said commiseratingly as he slunk out of the room. Another leader with whom we had a private interview, said: "Ladies, I'm ashamed to admit that I'm bound hand and foot, and can't do as I would. My wife put her hand on my shoulder when I left home and said, 'Won't you please stand by the temperance ladies?' and she looked straight in my eyes so earnestly I could have cried. But I said, 'No, my dear, I can't; my law practice is nearly all from the saloons, my hopes of promotion are from them, I have no sons to help me earn money, and I'm bound to support you and the girls in good style, so don't say another word,' and then I left her. Now, ladies, if I denied the plea, of the woman I love better than any other being on earth, you'll not urge me, I know." As we still pressed our plea this man of kind nature had tears in his eyes; his lips quivered, and he left us saying: "I want to help you, ladies, more than you know, but I just can't."

I have not named the most significant experience of my life in 1878.

My only brother, Oliver, of whose great gifts and genial nature I can never say enough, after his graduation from Beloit College in 1859, took a diploma from Garrett Biblical Institute in 1861 and became a Methodist minister, founding that church

in Colorado, and being chosen presiding elder when he was twenty-seven years old.

Afterward he was for years editor of the Chicago Mail, then the Chicago Post, and on March 17, 1878, he died quite suddenly at the Palmer House, Chicago. One of the last efforts of his life was to help work up for me my first Evanston audience since I had left the University four years earlier. Temperance was a threadbare theme and he feared I might not be greeted by the attendance that is the most grateful of all to a speaker when it consists of his or her own towns-folk.

But I had a fine audience in our own church. My mother, my brother's wife and their four children were all present, but where was he who had cared so much about this meeting?

At the close we were informed that he had been taken suddenly, but not at all dangerously ill, and had remained in the city, but would come home next day. His faithful wife drove in at once, reaching the Palmer House at midnight. He rallied her on her needless anxiety and asked "how Frank had got along?" When she told him of the meeting's success, he smiled and used a favorite phrase of his (borrowed from a song about "Brave Wolfe," at Quebec), "I die with pleasure."

How little he dreamed of leaving us was shown in his bright greeting to me when I went to see him in the morning and our good Dr. Jewell assured me he would be able to go home by the next day, and advised me not to miss the appointments I had, in company with Mrs. S. M. I. Henry, at Saginaw, Mich., for the next day but one, which was Sunday. So I left my dear, kind brother, life-long comrade and friend, without any thought of the sorrow that was so near.

Mrs. Henry and I had what ministers call, "a good time" in our meetings on the Sabbath day.

Monday at family prayers in the Christian home where we were sheltered, Mrs. Henry breathed this petition :

"Grant, Heavenly Father, that each one of us may this morning so find our balance in Thee that no sin or sorrow may be able to surprise us."

Going upstairs to my writing, five minutes later, I heard the door bell ring and a telegram was put into my hand. This has long been an experience so frequent as to cause no surprise, but

I have never yet opened a telegram without first lifting up my What need I had to do so now!

heart to God in prayer.

message was dated Sunday and read as follows:

"Your brother Oliver died this morning-Funeral Tuesday."

The

I read it aloud, friends being in the hall, and crouched upon the stairs without a cry, like one who had been struck. They led me to my room, and my saintly Sister Henry took me in her arms, as I repeated the words of her prayer, and we knelt once more together. I shall never forget the tenderness of her voice as for my consolation she read that blessed psalm, "Lord, thou hast been our dwelling-place in all generations."

I had been announced to conduct a temperance prayer-meeting that afternoon. The Chicago train would go at an hour that left me time to fulfill the engagement. I said, "He would have wished me to do this; he was punctual to his religious duties all this blessed year, no matter what might come." And so I went and told the people all about it while we cried together, praying and talking of a better life which is an heavenly. went with me to the train and we had a sort of meeting in the depot while we waited, and as I departed alone, they stood there with their sorrowful but kindly faces, those dear new friends in Christ Jesus, and sang:

"Rescue the perishing, care for the dying.” *

They

When I reached my sweet Rest Cottage home, there stood my mother, seventy-four years old, upon the steps. He was the pride and darling of her life, and I had almost feared to see her But no, her dear old face was radiant and she said, "Praise Heaven with me - I've grown gray praying for my sonand now to think your brother Oliver is safe with God!"

sorrow.

I went up the street to his pleasant home beside the College campus

"Dead he lay among his books,

The peace of God was in his looks,"

but the dear face was tired and worn. His last words to his wife had been, "All your prayers for me are answered; I have a present, perfect, personal Savior."

*Afterward, I had the comfort of learning that a young and gifted man that day decided in the meeting to be a missionary.

CHAPTER IV.

CONSERVATIVES AND LIBERALS.

I was much taken to task because I would not allow my name used as a candidate for President of the W. C. T. U. at the Chicago convention in 1877, and the papers tried to make out that I said, "Nothing but a unanimous choice would induce me to accept the position." The facts were that we then had an unpleasant method of nominating our candidates; namely, by means of a very complimentary speech made by some leading orator. Mrs. Foster generously made such a speech in my behalf, although I had said all I could to the women against their taking such action. A friend of Mrs. Wittenmeyer then rose and made a very complimentary speech about her, and put her in nomination. Then I rose and said I would not allow myself to come forward as an opposing candidate when the President of the society, a much older woman than I and one who had borne the burden for some years, was in the field, and I withdrew my name.

If no other name had been brought up I would not have done this, and the next year but one, when by a change in the constitution we had done away with the viva voce nominations and the flowery, complimentary speeches, I did not object, when elected by a large majority, to taking the position.

In 1879, at Indianapolis, I was elected president of the National Woman's Christian Temperance Union.

Two policies had in the five years' evolution of the Crusade movement become distinctly outlined under the names, "Conservative" and "Liberal." Our honored president, Mrs. Wittenmeyer, believed in holding the states and local unions to strict account, expecting uniformity of organization and method-in short, maintaining strongly the central power of the National Woman's Christian Temperance Union. She also vigorously opposed the

"Liberal" Policy Inaugurated in 1879.

369

ballot for women. In opposition to this, we "Liberals" interpreted the constitution of our society on the laissez-faire principle. We believed in making very few requirements of the state and local unions; if they paid their small dues and signed the total abstinence pledge, we asked no more, believing that the less we asked the more we should get, and that any amount of elbow room was good for folks, developed their peculiar genius and kept them hard at work and cheerful. So we declared for state rights and intruded not at all upon our thrifty auxiliaries, save that we were ready to go to them, work for them and build them up all that we could. In respect to woman's ballot we believed it was part and parcel of the temperance movement, one way out of the wilderness of whisky domination, and that any individual, any state or local union ought to have the right to say so and to act accordingly.

At our previous convention (Baltimore, 1878) we had debated one whole day over this question, taking it up in two parts as follows:

1. Shall we indorse the ballot for women as a temperance measure? 2. Shall our official organ publish accounts of work within our societies along this line?

The debate was a marvel of mingled courtesy and cogency, at the close of which the first question was decided in the negative, but the second affirmatively, which opened the columns of our paper, and henceforth the process of educating our women in favor of the ballot went forward rapidly.

At Indianapolis the principles of the liberal wing of our society became dominant, not so much by specific declaration as by the choice of leaders who incarnated those principles.

The number of delegates at this convention was one hundred and forty-eight from twenty states, no Southern state save Maryland being represented. Total receipts in national treasury for the year, $1,213.00.

At Boston the next year, there were one hundred and seventyseven delegates from twenty-five states, and the receipts were $2,048.00. The debate begun the year before on a change in our mode of representation was earnestly continued. As the constitution had stood from the begining, each state was entitled to