es I feel like echoing Coldstream's
opinion in looking into Vesuvius, "There is nothing in it." I
like to sit in the gallery of the House and watch our few true
men. When women sit there, there will be justice done to them;
and, while I have the honor of reporting for the _Tribune_, there
will be justice done to women when any question concerning her
interests comes up in Washington. And here I would like to refer,
as others who have spoken have already referred, to the work to
be done in the Church. I think that many of our earnest,
eloquent, high-minded, religious women should make for the
pulpit. I have always felt that there was great point in the
doctrine of the orthodox Church on the birth of Christ. We have a
greater share in Him than men can have, as He received His
humanity--His sweet, tender, suffering humanity--wholly from
woman. And yet we have been made to keep silence in the house of
our Father even on such festivals as Christmas and Thanksgiving.
How would it seem if on these occasions the sons only were
allowed to thank our heavenly Father for His care and love, and
the daughters were allowed to sit quiet? But woman's piety, you
know, is a very good thing for home consumption, and is supposed
to consist in her quietly sitting at home and praying for her
husband and sons. Goodness knows, she always has enough to pray
for! There is an anecdote told of a loving son who once spoke of
the inestimable blessing of a fine mother. He was a preacher in
Illinois, and he said to his congregation, "Oh, my friends, I
have such a mother. I remember when I was a little lad, standing
by my mother's side on a Sabbath afternoon, as she sat with her
Bible open before her, how she turned from the blessed Word to
lay her hand upon my sunny head, and pray that I might grow up to
be a minister of the Gospel and a great man; and, brethren and
sisters, I stand before you to-day a living example of the
efficacy of that prayer." While Mrs. Livermore was speaking so
gloriously last night out of her mother's heart, of mothers
robbed by the law of their little ones, what mother's heart
didn't stir within her? My little one--she is about my height
now--but I never have been able to get rid of the sweet weight of
that baby head on my breast! My arms always have