of
Representatives, a legislator of any kind, going about with a sick
dog in his arms, soothing the little wretch into its proper sleep,
providing it with its regular nourishment and superintending its
morning awakenings and the accompanying ablutions?

Women can never come to the head of the government, can never
assist to a large extent in its management, until they reform these
weaknesses. It isn't necessary that they should chew tobacco and
swear, and perhaps they needn't smoke cigars and drive fast horses;
but their leaders must abandon the pet dog, the favorite kitten,
the especial hen and the abominable bird. They may still sew and
still wear the petticoat; but if they enter politics they must
submit to the hard raps that men expect, without putting their
hands to their eyes and sobbing that their feelings have been hurt.
There must be reform, and Miss Anthony and Mrs. Stanton must set
about it in earnest and at once.

A Skye terrier for Miss Anthony! Merciful heavens! after all these
years has it come to this? Catnip for Julius Caesar! Boneset tea and
black stockings with garters for Alexander the Great! A locket with
hair in it on the bosom of the first Napoleon! A Skye terrier! We
have fallen upon evil days.

Under this in her scrap-book Miss Anthony wrote, "Doesn't this cap the
climax?" Of course, there was not the slightest foundation for the
paragraph. Miss Anthony never owned a dog or any pet animal, not from
dislike but because she felt that humanity needed all her time and
affection.

Work on the History was at once resumed, as its editors were now
convinced that it never could be finished except by the hardest kind of
labor without cessation. Of the able assistance rendered by many women
throughout the country, perhaps that of Clarina Howard Nichols was the
most valuable. She possessed not only great literary ability but also
the true editorial instinct and was one of the few left of the "old
guard." Out of her fine memory she wove a number of delightful chapters,
all written while lying on her back an almost helpless invalid and over
seventy years old. She had long ago gone to California to be with her
children, and Miss Anthony's weekly letters to her were of the most
loving character and answered in the same affectionate strain. Mrs.
Nichols hesitated to use the names of those who had been most vio