58 Life and Sport on the Pacific Slope 



He was standing in some public office, chatting 

 with other men, when a brazen-faced lady sailed 

 into the room, note-book in hand, interrogation on 

 her brow. She was, it seemed, the moving pillar 

 of flame of some organisation that had concerned 

 itself, amongst many matters, with female suffrage. 

 This Gorgon approached a man, and addressed 

 him, — 



" Are you in favour of woman's suffrage, sir ? " 



" Most emphatically I am not," he replied. 



"You are not. Your name, sir, — and your 

 address ? " 



The man stammered out both name and ad- 

 dress. The lady marched on, asking each the 

 same questions. None refused their names or ad- 

 dresses. Finally, she tackled a stout farmer. 



" Are you in favour of woman's suffrage, sir ? " 



" I am not," he replied. " Indeed, I think there 

 are fools enough in pants voting already." 



" Sir-r-r-r ! ! ! Your name, your address ? " 



The stout farmer eyed her calmly. The other 

 men waited a-quiver with expectation. The stout 

 farmer conveyed somehow the impression that he 

 would stand his ground, and vindicate the superi- 

 ority of the male. 



" That is none of your d d business," said he, 



very deliberately. 



The Gorgon stared into his impassive face. Then 

 she turned and confronted the others. Nobody 

 smiled or frowned. But the sense of the meeting 

 had been adequately set forth by the stout farmer. 

 The lady fled. 



There are many such women in the West, and 



