WASHINGTON, January 10, 1872.
From an account of the "Women's National Suffrage Association," reported
to the Press, I cut the following description of a noted female doctress
who dresses in a garb as near to a man's as the cramped laws of the land
will admit.
"Ten minutes after the opening ... a curly, crinkly feminine, in very
large walking boots, came to the front, being followed, after a brief
pause, by the rest of the sisters. This lady was new, even to the
reporters, and one of them, handing up a pencilled inquiry to Mrs. Dr.
Walker, was informed that she was 'Mrs. Ricker, a beautiful, charming,
and good widow, fair, forty, and rich.' This bit of interesting news
started on its travels.
* * * * *
"The doctor, who has the usual manly proclivity for hugging the girls,
threw her arms around a pretty and modest-looking girl standing by,
and enthusiastically shouted, "You are a dear, sweet little creature."
The frightened young woman drew hastily back, and faltered out that
she was not in the habit of being hugged by men. This turned the laugh
on the doctor; but she gained her lost ground by quickly replying to
the inquiry of the secretary as to what place he should put her down
from as a delegate, to put her down "from all the world;" but he
objected, anxious for the completeness of his roster.
"You must have a local habitation, you know."
"Put me down from Washington, then, for that is the home of everybody
who has none other."
Unmindful of the eloquent protest of her coat and pantaloons against
feminine distinctions, he wrote her down as "Mrs. Mary Walker;" but
seizing the pencil from his fingers, she spitefully erased the "Mrs."
and wrote "Doctor."
"I never was Mrs.; I never will be."