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Grace Greenwood.
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—demand, I say, because that is the language of earnest reform—that it give us forthwith, before the adjournment of the present session, a law of equal suffrage for the women of the District of Columbia. In the light of the recent action of the British Parliament, is this asking too much? Should not we Americans be up to the level of a test vote on this question—which has never yet been reached either in the Senate or House of Representatives?
The President introduced Grace Greenwood, who said: "I rise to a personal explanation," as we say in Washington. When Colonel Higginson yesterday overwhelmed me with his compliment, by the proposition that I should belong to the Congress of the United States, I wanted to say—had I not been so overwhelmed—in order to set myself "right before the country," that there had been no previous understanding between Colonel Higginson and myself; and that as I didn't want to encourage any false hopes, and in fact didn't want to go, I should decline the nomination. I prefer the position he referred to—absolutely prefer my place in the reporters' gallery. I know that a white reporter is as good as a colored Senator, if he or she behaves himself or herself. I like to look down upon that scene of legislation and feel that I am out of it; though sometimes I feel like echoing Coldstream's opinion in looking into Vesuvius, "There is nothing in it." I like to sit in the gallery of the House and watch our few true men. When women sit there, there will be justice done to them; and, while I have the honor of reporting for the Tribune, there will be justice done to women when any question concerning her interests comes up in Washington. And here I would like to refer, as others who have spoken have already referred, to the work to be done in the Church. I think that many of our earnest, eloquent, high-minded, religious women should make for the pulpit. I have always felt that there was great point in the doctrine of the orthodox Church on the birth of Christ. We have a greater share in Him than men can have, as He received His humanity—His sweet, tender, suffering humanity—wholly from woman. And yet we have been made to keep silence in the house of our Father even on such festivals as Christmas and Thanksgiving. How would it seem if on these occasions the sons only were allowed to thank our heavenly Father for His care and love, and the daughters were allowed to sit quiet? But woman's piety, you know, is a very good thing for home consumption, and is supposed to consist in her quietly sitting at home and praying for her husband and sons. Goodness knows, she always has enough to pray for! There is an anecdote told of a loving son who once spoke of the inestimable blessing of a fine mother. He was a preacher in Illinois, and he said to his congregation, "Oh, my friends, I have such a mother. I remember when I was a little lad, standing by my mother's side on a Sabbath afternoon, as she sat with her Bible open before her, how she turned from the blessed Word to lay her hand upon my sunny head, and pray that I might grow up to be a minister of the Gospel and a great man; and, brethren and sisters, I stand before you to-day a living example of the efficacy of that prayer." While Mrs. Livermore was speaking so gloriously last night out of her mother's heart, of mothers robbed by the law of their little ones, what mother's heart didn't stir within her? My little one—she is about my height now—but I never have been able to get rid of the sweet weight of that baby head on my breast! My arms always have