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By turns, of Papist, witch, and Quaker!

       The stocks were at each church's door,

       The gallows stood on Boston Common,

       A Papist's ears the pillory bore—

       The gallows-rope, a Quaker woman!

      Your fathers dealt not as ye deal

       With "non-professing" frantic teachers;

       They bored the tongue with red-hot steel,

       And flayed the backs of "female preachers."

       Old Newbury, had her fields a tongue,

       And Salem's streets could tell their story,

       Of fainting woman dragged along,

       Gashed by the whip, accursed and gory!

      And will ye ask me, why this taunt

       Of memories sacred from the scorner?

       And why with reckless hand I plant

       A nettle on the graves ye honor?

       Not to reproach New England's dead

       This record from the past I summon,

       Of manhood to the scaffold led,

       And suffering and heroic woman.

      No—for yourselves alone, I turn

       The pages of intolerance over,

       That, in their spirit, dark and stern,

       Ye haply may your own discover!

       For, if ye claim the "pastoral right,"

       To silence freedom's voice of warning,

       And from your precincts shut the light

       Of Freedom's day around ye dawning;

      If when an earthquake voice of power,

       And signs in earth and heaven, are showing

       That forth, in the appointed hour,

       The Spirit of the Lord is going!

       And, with that Spirit, Freedom's light

       On kindred, tongue, and people breaking,

       Whose slumbering millions, at the sight,

       In glory and in strength are waking!

      When for the sighing of the poor,

       And for the needy, God hath risen,

       And chains are breaking, and a door

       Is opening for the souls in prison!

       If then ye would, with puny hands,

       Arrest the very work of Heaven,

       And bind anew the evil bands

       Which God's right arm of power hath riven,—

      What marvel that, in many a mind,

       Those darker deeds of bigot madness

       Are closely with your own combined,

       Yet "less in anger than in sadness"?

       What marvel, if the people learn

       To claim the right of free opinion?

       What marvel, if at times they spurn

       The ancient yoke of your dominion?

      A glorious remnant linger yet,

       Whose lips are wet at Freedom's fountains,

       The coming of whose welcome feet

       Is beautiful upon our mountains!

       Men, who the gospel tidings bring

       Of Liberty and Love forever,

       Whose joy is an abiding spring,

       Whose peace is as a gentle river!

      But ye, who scorn the thrilling tale

       Of Carolina's high-souled daughters,

       Which echoes here the mournful wail

       Of sorrow from Edisto's waters,

       Close while ye may the public ear—

       With malice vex, with slander wound them—

       The pure and good shall throng to hear,

       And tried and manly hearts surround them.

      Oh, ever may the power which led

       Their way to such a fiery trial,

       And strengthened womanhood to tread

       The wine-press of such self-denial,

       Be round them in an evil land,

       With wisdom and with strength from Heaven,

       With Miriam's voice, and Judith's hand,

       And Deborah's song, for triumph given!

      And what are ye who strive with God

       Against the ark of His salvation,

       Moved by the breath of prayer abroad,

       With blessings for a dying nation?

       What, but the stubble and the hay

       To perish, even as flax consuming,

       With all that bars His glorious way,

       Before the brightness of His coming?

      And thou, sad Angel, who so long

       Hast waited for the glorious token,

       That Earth from all her bonds of wrong

       To liberty and light has broken—

       Angel of Freedom! soon to thee

       The sounding trumpet shall be given,

       And over Earth's full jubilee

       Shall deeper joy be felt in Heaven!

      In answer to the many objections made, by gentlemen present, to granting to woman the right of suffrage, Frederick Douglass replied in a long, argumentative, and eloquent appeal, for the complete equality of woman in all the rights that belong to any human soul. He thought the true basis of rights was the capacity of individuals; and as for himself, he should not dare claim a right that he would not concede to woman.

      This Convention continued through three sessions, and was crowded with an attentive audience to the hour of adjournment. The daily papers made fair reports, and varied editorial comments, which, being widely copied, called out spicy controversies in different parts of the country. The resolutions and discussions regarding woman's right to enter the professions, encouraged many to prepare themselves for medicine and the ministry. Though few women responded to the demand for political rights, many at once saw the importance of equality in the world of work.

      The Seneca Falls Declaration was adopted, and signed by large numbers of influential men and women of Rochester and vicinity, and at a late hour the Convention adjourned, in the language of its President, "with hearts overflowing with gratitude."

8 The antique mahogany center-table on which this historic document was written now stands in the parlor of the McClintock family in Philadelphia.

9 See Appendix.

10 Rebecca Sanford, now Postmaster at Mt. Morris, N. Y.

11 See Appendix.

      CHAPTER V.

      Reminiscences.

       Table

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