influence to make it popular with the
members, her husband, thoroughly versed in parliamentary tactics,
availed himself of every technicality to push the bill through the
House of Commons. Mrs. Bright's chief object in securing this bill,
aside from establishing the right every human being has to his own
property, was, to lift married women on an even plane with widows
and spinsters, thereby making them qualified voters.

The next day we went out to Barn Elms to visit Mr. and Mrs. Chas.
McLaren. Mr. McLaren, a Quaker by birth and education, has
sustained to his uttermost the suffrage movement, and his charming
little wife, the daughter of Mrs. Pochin, is worthy the noble
mother who was among the earliest leaders on this question,
speaking and writing with equal ability on all phases of the
subject. Barn Elms is a grand old estate, a few miles out of
London. It was the dairy farm of Queen Elizabeth, and presented by
her to Sir Francis Walsingham. Since then it has been inhabited by
many persons of note. It has existed as an estate since the time of
the early Saxon Kings, and the record of the sale of Barn Elms in
the time of King Athelston is still extant. What with its well-kept
lawns, fine old trees, and glimpses here and there of the Thames
winding round its borders, and its wealth of old associations, it
is indeed a charming spot. Our memory of those days will not go
back to Saxon Kings, but remain with the liberal host and hostess,
the beautiful children and the many charming acquaintances we met
at that fireside. I doubt whether any of the ancient lords and
ladies who dispensed their hospitalities under that roof, did in
any way surpass the present occupants. Mrs. McLaren, interested in
all the reforms of the day, is radical in her ideas, a brilliant
talker, and, for one so young, remarkably well informed on all
political questions. One thing is certain, those old walls never
echoed to more rebellious talk among women against existing
conditions,[578] than on that evening.

It was at Barn Elms I met for the first time Mrs. Fannie Hertz, to
whom I was indebted for many pleasant acquaintances afterwards. She
is said to know more distinguished literary people than any other
woman in London. I saw her, too, several times in her own cozy
home, meeting at her Sunday-afternoon receptions many persons I was
desirous to know. On one occasion I found George Jacob Holyoake
there, surrounded by a bevy of young ladies, all