I RETURNED from Geneva to New York city in time to celebrate my seventy-sixth birthday with my children. I had traveled about constantly for the last twenty years in France， England， and my own country， and had so many friends and correspondents， and pressing invitations to speak in clubs and conventions， that now I decided to turn over a new leaf and rest in an easy-chair. But so complete a change in one's life could not be easily accomplished. In spite of my resolution to abide in seclusion， my daughter and I were induced to join the Botta Club， which was to meet once a month， alternately， at the residences of Mrs. Moncure D. Conway and Mrs. Abby Sage Richardson.
Though composed of ladies and gentlemen it proved dull and unprofitable.
As the subject for discussion was not announced until each meeting， no one was prepared with any well-digested train of thought. It was also decided to avoid all questions about which there might be grave differences of opinion. This negative position reminded me of a book on etiquette which I read in my young days， in which gentlemen were warned， "In the presence of ladies discuss neither politics， religion， nor social duties， but confine yourself to art， poetry， and abstract questions which women cannot understand.
The less they know of a subject the more respectfully they will listen."
This club was named in honor of Mrs. Botta， formerly Miss Anne Lynch， whose drawing room for many years was the social center of the literati of New York.
On January 16， 1892， we held the Annual Suffrage Convention in Washington， and， as usual， had a hearing before the Congressional Committee. My speech on the "Solitude of Self" was well received and was published in the Congressional Record. The Woman's Tribune struck off many hundreds of copies and it was extensively circulated.
Notwithstanding my determination to rest， I spoke to many clubs， wrote articles for papers and magazines， and two important leaflets， one on "Street Cleaning，" another on "Opening the Chicago Exposition on Sunday." As Sunday was the only day the masses could visit that magnificent scene， with its great lake， extensive park， artificial canals， and beautiful buildings， I strongly advocated its being open on that day. One hundred thousand religious bigots petitioned Congress to make no appropriation for this magnificent Exposition， unless the managers pledged themselves to close the gates on Sunday， and hide this vision of beauty from the common people. Fortunately， this time a sense of justice outweighed religious bigotry. I sent my leaflets to every member of Congress and of the State legislatures， and to the managers of the Exposition， and made it a topic of conversation at every opportunity.
The park and parts of the Exposition were kept open on Sunday， but some of the machinery was stopped as a concession to narrow Christian sects.
In June， 1892， at the earnest solicitation of Mrs. Russell Sage， I attended the dedication of the Gurley Memorial Building， presented to the Emma Willard Seminary， at Troy， New York， and made the following address：
"MRS. PRESIDENT， MEMBERS OF THE ALUMNÆ；：
"It is just sixty years since the class of '32， to which I belonged， celebrated a commencement in this same room. This was the great event of the season to many families throughout this State. Parents came from all quarters； the é；lite of Troy and Albany assembled here. Principals from other schools， distinguished legislators， and clergymen all came to hear girls scan Latin verse， solve problems in Euclid， and read their own compositions in a promiscuous assemblage. A long line of teachers anxiously waited the calling of their classes， and over all， our queenly Madame Willard presided with royal grace and dignity. Two hundred girls in gala attire， white dresses， bright sashes， and coral ornaments， with their curly hair， rosy cheeks， and sparkling eyes， flitted to and fro， some rejoicing that they had passed through their ordeal， some still on the tiptoe of expectation， some laughing， some in tears朼ltogether a most beautiful and interesting picture.
"Conservatives then， as now， thought the result of the higher education of girls would be to destroy their delicacy and refinement. But as the graduates of the Troy Seminary were never distinguished in after life for the lack of these feminine virtues， the most timid， even， gradually accepted the situation and trusted their daughters with Mrs. Willard. But that noble woman endured for a long period the same ridicule and persecution that women now do who take an onward step in the march of progress.
"I see around me none of the familiar faces that greeted my coming or said farewell in parting. I do not know that one of my classmates still lives. Friendship with those I knew and loved best lasted but a few years， then our ways in life parted. I should not know where to find one now， and if I did， probably our ideas would differ on every subject， as I have wandered in latitudes beyond the prescribed sphere of women. I suppose it is much the same with many of you杢he familiar faces are all gone， gone to the land of shadows， and I hope of sunshine too， where we in turn will soon follow.
