The Portland daily press., 1876-10-27
From the Cincinnati Commercially
Anna Dickinson.
Her Girlhood, Her 0rntory and Her
Grown of Thorns."
THE VOICE OF AN APPREcIATIvE AND HONEST
CRITIC.

twenty years or more ago, quiet Quaker
WIDOW dwelt in Philadelphia, with her young
iamlly. of ber boys went to select school,
IKE nH6d '6e ne good Quaker lads they were The two
goou quaker lads wore square-topped, broad
| Drlmmed mats All the other boys wore caps.
gaps We're the fashion for boys then, and hat
ior ooy was as ridiculous as spectacles on
oaoy. Inc Two meek lads hated their square
topped hats like death, but they had to wear
them because they were Quakers. The other
ooys with their caps ridiculed the Quaker lads
as only boys can. The close of school every
oay was the regular signal for boy mob and
running fight. The other boys gathered in a
sort OF army and chased the Quaker bows
nome EVERY afternoon they were pelted
mocked and yawped at, and pursued into their
very doors. They submitted to this hot perse-
cution because they could not help the mselyes
apd endured torments
But the Quaker lads had younger sister at
nome-younger than both. She made up her
MIND MIND at length that she wasn't gong to stand
this sort of thing A bright idea slezed her
There wasn't any nonsense about her wsv of
stopping the attacks on her big brothers either
| Every day, near schoOl-close, the little girl
thrust long iron poker into the fire. heated it
req NOT, took the upper end OF it ia cloth
| holder, and, armed with this weapon, sailed
forth against the boys who mobbed her big
| brothers She routed the enemy, root and
branch, as you may well suppose. and bore her
/ brothers home in triumph. Every day the bat
| tie was repeated with the same result until the
| little red-hot poker girl became IA familiar OBJ
lect on the street, and the terror of all the
boys in the neighborhood. There was mo fool
| In about her, you see.
Two or three years went'on, until, one morn
ng the club OF Progressive Friends adver-
| tsed to discuss the rights and wrongs of woman
on Sunday afternoon. The society of 'Pro-
gresslve Friends was one of those queer bear.
| gardens which spring up and die out from tins
10 time in every city-a place where "short-
haired women and long-hared men, oddly
dressed and with dirty fnger-nails, people .
nttie cracked and not little conceited, meet
and dispose of the universe obce a week or so.
In the discussion of that afternoon a queer
party, one OF those donkeys who measure the
human race by the little tape line which COM
passes their own skulls, was particularly Off
clous This queer party assured the world that
woman was not the equal of man in intellect
And, as If to add insult to injury, he was par
ticularly ugly and tantalizing in his way of
saying it He had barely finished his mean
and unjust speech, when suddenly q little
schoolgirl sprang at him like small fury.
She wore little hood, and a modest chld's
dress buttoned up behind, without a ruffis or
ornament She bust upon the mean man like
bolt OF lightning from thunder cloud, and
poured into his ears torrent of red-hot in
Vectlve which made him tingle all over and
electrified that bear garden. She did not stop
for breath till she had spoken all the angry
thought tnat was in her, then suddenly, for the
first time realizing what she had done, the
child shot out OF the door like a whirlwind
and away home.
The discussion was advertised to continue
next Sunday, and thther the little schoolgirl
was somehow drawn again. The mean man
was there again with his mean little speech,
and this time he walked down the aisle and
liked his eye on the child in the hood, and
shook his finger in her face. He had daughters,
said the mean man. His daughters had not
intellect enough to be preachers and lawyers,
he knew, therefore no other mans daughters
had. On the instant, like fury again, the
cnlld In the hood was upon him, every drop of
blood in her body throbbing with noble wrath
She never thought of addressing the chair
man-never thought of anybody except the
mean man who had angered her so. And this
first recorded speech of that little girl was
something in this order:
You say, sir, that pour daughters have not
intellect to be preachers or lawyers. Sir your
daughters are foolsi In the name of heaven,
what else could be expected of the daughters
of such a fatherp'
And again she few out of the door like a
whirlwind. The bear-garden thundered and
roarsd, and thundered and roared again.
who is that little wildcats? growled the
bears.
No one knew. Acting from an uncontrol-
liable impulse two of the bears arose and fol-
lowed her home She saw that she was fol-
lowed, and doubled and turned up this square
and down that to avoid her pursuers, but in
vain. Very quiet and scared she entered her
home and crept upstairs. The gentlemen fol-
lowed on up to the door. One of them recog-
nized the name on the plate and started back
Good gracious!" said he, "it's little Lizzie
Dickinsonp
True to her worst forebodings, the culprit up
stairs heard loud ring at the bell, and pres
emily an uncommon hubbub in the hall She
peeped tremblingly over the railing and saw
two gentlemen talking earnestly to her mother,
while the good Quaker mother, with tears roll
ing down her cheeks, stood wrnging her,
hands and lamentng in tones of unutterabe
grief:
80, that child! that child! always knew
that ungoyernable, furious nature would bring
her to some bad end and now it's come, it's
come at lastP'
The gentlemen stared in amazement. "why
madam said one of them, II would almost
give my life for child like that"
The Union League employed Anna to speak
in the political campoign. From state to state,
from city to city she went, carrying all before
her with her marvellous eloquence. She never
wrote word of those wonderful campaign
speeches beforehand. She did not often make
notes of headings even. All seemed to come
to her, word by word, at the moment it was
spoken. There was never anything like 1t in
America since the days when Patrick Henry
electrified the House Of Burgesses In Virginia.
Anna Dickinson's worst enemy must admits
that. After six months public speaking
pie of Philadelphia. She spoke in the Acad-
emy of Music, and the Quaker mother went to
hear her daughter for the first time. Long be-
fore the hour the building was packed until
Seven hundred people were crowded upon the
stage alone. The Quaker mother looked
around at the immense throng and turned cold
with fear.
''That child never can talk to all these people;
she never can do it, said the mother to her
other daughter, who sa. beside her.
"Why mother thee knows she has been talk
inf to Just such crowds for six months" said
Sister Sue.
A gentleman touched the mothers arm.
"Pardon me, madam. but are you connected in
any way with the young lady who is to speak
to-night?
"Yea-yea, thee means my daughter" said
the mild Quakeress.
The whole country at that time was in par
ticulary excitsbe and emotional state and
instantly all faces near turned toward the
mother and sister, till it seemed to the timid
mother as If she were swimming in sea of
eyes. The gentleman who had spoken to her
was the mayor of Philadelphia, and it was his
duty to introduce Anna to her audience. He
did it in brief speech, stating how Anna bad
won the elections in the states OF Maine and
New Hampshire; how che, the daughter of
Philadelphia, had gained the applause of the
world
"And now," said he, taking her hand, "Phil-
adelphia. receive your child!
1t was the only time in all ADna's iexperi-
ence that her heart almost failed her. The
audience burst into thunders of applause, wave
on wave of sound shook the building, and the
noise was terrific The little Quaker mother
heard it ALL and covered her face with her
hands, and bent her head in an agony Of
terror.
"That child can never do itp
Presently Anna spoke her first sentence.
| The little Quaker mother raised her head, and
became so absorbed in the speech that she
| actually forgot all about "that child" in the
| wonderful oratory of Anna Dickinson, which
made strong men weep one moment and rend
| the air with wild cheers the next in spite of
themselves.
As soon as Anna came Of age she was for
| mally read out of Quaker meeting for "incitIng
| to war and bloodshed." Nothing lean describe
| the effect of her speeches so well as the brave
| Old Bible sentence: "And the hsart of all the
/ people was moved as the heart of one man.
| Well, all that was dozen years and more
| ago. The occasion which walked the echoes of
this magical eloquence has passed, and / pray
| Heaven it may never come again The occasion
has passed-hss the power aud glory of the
young orator passed with it2 Please the fates,
| no! A woman at three and thirty can hardly
have lost either her good looks, her intellectual
genius or he courage. Decidedly mol
Since taking the stage, Miss Dickinson has
| been offered double her old price TO lecture inst