Page:History of Woman Suffrage Volume 4.djvu/467

 Leader, comrade, friend, no name can express what you are to us. You might have led us as commander, and we might have followed and' obeyed, but there still might have been wanting the divine force of unchanging love. We look up to the sunlight where you stand and say, "We are coming." When we shall be fourscore we shall still be calling to you, "We are coming," for you will still be beckoning us on as you climb still loftier heights. Souls like yours can never rest in all the eternities of God.

Then a hush fell on the people and all waited for Miss Anthony. During the afternoon she had been sitting in a large armchair that was almost covered by her cloak of royal purple velvet which she had thrown over it, the white satin lining forming a lovely background for her finely-shaped head with its halo of silver hair. No one ever had seen her so moved as on this occasion when her memory must have carried her back to the days of bare halls, hostile audiences, ridicule, abuse, loneliness and ostracism by all but a very few staunch friends. "Would she be able to speak?" many in the audience asked themselves, but the nearest friends waited calmly and without anxiety. They never had known her to fail. The result was thus described:

For a moment after gaining her feet, Miss Anthony stood battling with her emotions, but her indomitable courage conquered, and she smiled at the audience as it rose to greet her. She wore a gown of black duchesse satin with vest and revers of fine white lace in which were a few modest pinks, while she carried a large bouquet of violets. The moment she began talking the shadow passed from her face and she stood erect, with head uplifted, full of her old-time vigor.

"How can you expect me to say a word?" she said. "And yet I must. I have reason to feel grateful, for I have received letters and telegrams from all over the world. But the one that has touched me the most is a simple note which came from an old home of slavery, from a woman off of whose hands and feet the shackles fell nearly forty years ago. That letter, my friends, contained eighty cents—one penny for every year. It was all that this aged person had.

I am grateful for the many expressions which I have listened to this afternoon. I have heard the grandson of the great Frederick Douglass speak to me through his violin. I mention this because I remember so well Frederick Douglass when he rose at the convention where the first resolution ever presented for woman suffrage had his eloquence to help it.

Among the addresses from my younger co-workers, none has