iss
Anthony's election as her successor, "Aunt Susan" still went to her
old friend whenever an important resolution was to be written, and Mrs.
Stanton loyally drafted it for her.

Mrs. Stanton was the most brilliant conversationalist I have ever known;
and the best talk I have heard anywhere was that to which I used to
listen in the home of Mrs. Eliza Wright Osborne, in Auburn, New York,
when Mrs. Stanton, Susan B. Anthony, Emily Howland, Elizabeth Smith
Miller, Ida Husted Harper, Miss Mills, and I were gathered there for
our occasional week-end visits. Mrs. Osborne inherited her suffrage
sympathies, for she was the daughter of Martha Wright, who, with Mrs.
Stanton and Lucretia Mott, called the first suffrage convention in
Seneca Falls, New York. I must add in passing that her son, Thomas Mott
Osborne, who is doing such admirable work in prison reform at Sing Sing,
has shown himself worthy of the gifted and high-minded mother who gave
him to the world.

Most of the conversation in Mrs. Osborne's home was contributed by Mrs.
Stanton and Miss Anthony, while the rest of us sat, as it were, at their
feet. Many human and feminine touches brightened the lofty discussions
that were constantly going on, and the varied characteristics of our
leaders cropped up in amusing fashion. Mrs. Stanton, for example, was
rarely accurate in giving figures or dates, while Miss Anthony was
always very exact in such matters. She frequently corrected Mrs.
Stanton's statements, and Mrs. Stanton usually took the interruption
in the best possible spirit, promptly admitting that "Aunt Susan" knew
best. On one occasion I recall, however, she held fast to her opinion
that she was right as to the month in which a certain incident had
occurred.

"No, Susan," she insisted, "you're wrong for once. I remember perfectly
when that happened, for it was at the time I was beginning to wean
Harriet."

Aunt Susan, though somewhat staggered by the force of this testimony,
still maintained that Mrs. Stanton must be mistaken, whereupon the
latter repeated, in exasperation, "I tell you it happened when I was
weaning Harriet." And she added, scornfully, "What event have you got to
reckon from?"

Miss Anthony meekly subsided.

Mrs. Stanton had wonderful blue eyes, which held to the end of her life
an expression of eternal youth. During our conventions she usually took
a little nap in the afternoon, and when she awoke her blue eyes always
had an expression of