Yours is a "golden wedding" indeed—for the fiftieth anniversary of a life that has been wedded to a great cause is a far more glorious golden wedding than those which generally go by that name. Accept my heartiest wishes for your welfare and for the success of your novel celebration. Heretofore the privilege of growing old and possessing common sense has belonged exclusively to the other sex. Sincerely yours,
Frances Ellen Burr.
Please accept the enclosed check of $50, as a slight token of regard from our absent trio. As I hardly need tell you, the lion's share of this birthday gift is sent by my father, but neither mother nor I will admit that in the unsubstantial, and yet I hope not valueless part of the offering, the personal regard and appreciation of your noble work for woman which accompany it, our contribution is any less than his. I remain yours very truly,
Laura Curtis Bullard.
You have worked for the slave and for woman. Your fifty years shine about you and rest like a halo of glory around your head.... Fifty years today! When that half-century again rolls around, you and I will be in our graves and our names and work will stand back of us to all time. But into that future I look with prophetic eye to see woman no longer enslaved, and to find, not only on this continent, but over the world, as benefactor of the race, the name of Susan B. Anthony. Your affectionate friend,
Matilda Joslyn Gage.
My good husband in writing from Toledo says: "Tell Susan that all the newspaper accounts taken together could not increase the pride which I have long felt in her pertinacious, obstinate, fault-finding, raspish, strong-minded, dogmatic and grand career. God bless her!" To all of which I subscribe most affectionately,