nervous in my life, and so unfitted for the part I was in duty
bound to perform. From much speaking through many years my voice was
hoarse, from a severe fall I was quite lame, and as standing, and
distinct speaking are important to graceful oratory, I felt like the
king's daughter in Shakespeare's play of "Titus Andronicus," when rude
men who had cut her hands off and her tongue out, told her to call for
water and wash her hands. However, I lived through the ordeal, as the
reader will see in the next chapter.

After my birthday celebration, the next occasion of deep interest to me
was the Chicago Convention of 1896, the platform there adopted, and the
nomination and brilliant campaign of William J. Bryan. I had long been
revolving in my mind questions relating to the tariff and finance, and
in the demands of liberal democrats, populists, socialists, and the
laboring men and women, I heard the clarion notes of the coming
revolution.

During the winter of 1895-96 I was busy writing alternately on this
autobiography and "The Woman's Bible," and articles for magazines and
journals on every possible subject from Venezuela and Cuba to the
bicycle. On the latter subject many timid souls were greatly distressed.
Should women ride? What should they wear? What are "God's intentions"
concerning them? Should they ride on Sunday? These questions were asked
with all seriousness. We had a symposium on these points in one of the
daily papers. To me the answer to all these questions was simple--if
woman could ride, it was evidently "God's intention" that she be
permitted to do so. As to what she should wear, she must decide what is
best adapted to her comfort and convenience. Those who prefer a spin of
a few hours on a good road in the open air to a close church and a dull
sermon, surely have the right to choose, whether with trees and flowers
and singing birds to worship in "That temple not made with hands,
eternal in the heavens," or within four walls to sleep during the
intonation of that melancholy service that relegates us all, without
distinction of sex or color, to the ranks of "miserable sinners." Let
each one do what seemeth right in her own eyes, provided she does not
encroach on the rights of others.

In May, 1896, I again went to Geneva and found the bicycle craze had
reached there, with all its most pronounced symptoms; old and young,
professors, clergymen, and ladies of fashion were all spinning merrily
around on busi