ed by the mirth and disrespect of these
men. "A few read the petitions as they would any other, with dignity
and without comment," reported the popular journalist, Mary Clemmer,
in her weekly Washington column, "but the majority seemed intensely
conscious of holding something unutterably funny in their hands....
The entire Senate presented the appearance of a laughing school
practicing sidesplitting and ear-extended grins." After a few humorous
and sarcastic remarks the petitions were referred to the Committee on
Public Lands. Only one Senator, Aaron A. Sargent of California, was
"man enough and gentleman enough to lift the petitions from this
insulting proposition.... He ... demanded for the petition of more
than 10,000 women at least the courtesy which would be given any
other."[331]

Although his words did not deter the Senators, Susan was proud of this
tall vigorous white-haired Californian and grateful for his
spontaneous support in this humiliating situation. He had been a
trusted friend and counselor ever since she had shared with him and
his family the long snowy journey from Nevada in 1872. She looked
forward to the time when woman suffrage would have more such advocates
in the Congress and when she would find there new faces and a more
liberal spirit.

Disappointment only drove Susan into more intensive activity. Between
lectures she now nursed her sister Hannah who was critically ill in
Daniel's home in Leavenworth. After Hannah's death in May 1877, Susan
worked off her grief in Colorado, where the question of votes for
women was being referred to the people of the state.

The suffragists in Colorado were headed by Dr. Alida Avery, who had
left her post as resident physician at the new woman's college,
Vassar, to practice medicine in Denver. Making Dr. Avery's home her
headquarters, Susan carried her plea for the ballot to settlements far
from the railroads, traveling by stagecoach over rough lonely roads
through magnificent scenery. Holding meetings wherever she could, she
spoke in schoolhouses, in hotel dining rooms, and even in saloons,
when no other place was available, and always she was treated with
respect and listened to with interest. Occasionally only a mere
handful gathered to hear her, but in Lake City she spoke to an
audience of a thousand or more from a dry-goods box on the court-house
steps. She was equal to anything, but the mining towns depressed her,
for they were swarming with foreigner