better than anybody else! Better than men treat each other as a body,
and better by the individual man than he treats all other women. I
abominate the idea of equality, and to be mentally slapped on the
shoulder and told I am "a good fellow." I shrink from the idea of
independence and cold, proud isolation with my emancipated
sister-women, who struggle into their own coats unassisted and get red
in the face putting on their own skates, and hang on to a strap in the
street-car, in the proud consciousness that they are independent and
the equal of men. I never worry myself when a man is on his knees in
front of me, tying the ribbons of my slipper, as to whether he
considers me his equal politically or not. It is sufficient
satisfaction for me to see him there. If he hadn't wanted to save me
the trouble, I suppose he wouldn't have offered. He may even think I
am not strong enough for such an arduous duty. _That_ would not hurt
my feelings either. I have an idea that he likes it better to think
that I cannot do anything troublesome for myself than to believe that
I could get along perfectly without him. In fact--here's heresy for
you, O ye emancipated!--I do not in the least mind being dependent on
men--provided the men are nice enough. Let them give us all the
so-called rights they want to. I shall never get over wanting to get
behind some man if I see a cow. Let them give us a vote, if they will.
I shall want at least three men to go with me to the polls--one to
hold my purse, one to hold my gloves, and the third to show me how to
cast my vote.

If women are serious in wanting to vote in politics, why do they not
apply to the body politic the same methods they use with the one man
which an all-wise Destiny has committed to their keeping?

If all the women in the world should make up their minds that they