My friends still refer to
the occasion as ``the day we wiped up the earth
with Dr. Buckley''; but I do not deserve the im-
plied tribute, for Dr. Buckley would have lost his
case without a word from me. What really gave
me some satisfaction, however, was the respective
degree of freshness with which he and I emerged
from our combat. After my speech Miss Anthony
and I were given a reception, and stood for hours
shaking hands with hundreds of men and women.
Later in the evening we had a dinner and another
reception, which, lasting, as they did, until midnight,
kept us from our repose. Dr. Buckley, poor gentle-
man, had to be taken to his hotel immediately after
his speech, given a hot bath, rubbed down, and put
tenderly to bed; and not even the sympathetic
heart of Susan B. Anthony yearned over him when
she heard of his exhaustion.
It was also at Chautauqua, by the way, though a
number of years earlier, that I had my much mis-
quoted encounter with the minister who deplored
the fashion I followed in those days of wearing my
hair short. This young man, who was rather a
pompous person, saw fit to take me to task at a
table where a number of us were dining together.
``Miss Shaw,'' he said, abruptly, ``I have been
asked very often why you wear your hair short,
and I have not been able to explain. Of course''--
this kindly--'' I know there is some good reason. I
ventured to advance the theory that you have been
ill and that your hair has fallen out.
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