The indignation of the people has been aroused to its highest pitch by the appearance in the New Northwest of a slanderous article reflecting in a most unjust and uncalled-for manner upon one of our foremost citizens. And this resentment has been heightened, if that were possible, by the abandoned manner in which the sanctity of the family circle has been invaded and matters that were buried and forgotten in the long ago have been revived for the sinister purpose of venting malignant spite upon one who enjoys the high esteem of all for the simple and only reason that he has chosen to differ with the author of this contemptible article. We are amazed that one professing to be laboring for the best interests of woman and claiming the attention of the intelligent masses should thus debase the columns of a newspaper under her control. If these are teachings of woman suffrage it should be prohibited by statute. Mrs. Duniway has by this fell stroke done more injury to herself and her cause here than years can repair. The people can have patience with none who would so ruthlessly violate the holiest laws of the land. We are not surprised that public execration should be unbounded, for it cannot be amiss.
Democratic Times, July 18, 1879, page 2


    LECTURES.--Mrs. Abigail Scott Duniway will lecture at the courthouse this evening at 8 o'clock p.m., choosing as her subject "The Centennial Year." On Sunday next she will be at Foots Creek. Returning, she will deliver her last lecture in this place on the Monday following--subject: "A Week in Salt Lake City." Her further appointments are Rock Point July 22nd; Grants Pass, July 23rd; [illegible] July 25th; Canyonville, July 26th, and Myrtle Creek, July 28th.
Democratic Times, July 18, 1879, page 3


    Mrs. Duniway lectured at the Manzanita Church on Sunday last.
"Brief Reference," Democratic Times, July 18, 1879, page 3


    BURNT IN EFFIGY.--Mrs. Duniway was burnt in effigy on the streets of Jacksonville on the night following the advent of the New Northwest containing her correspondence from this place, and which reflected in a shameful and unjust manner on at least one of our citizens. The offense is deserving of the severest condemnation, but we doubt very much whether this was an appropriate way of expressing it.
Democratic Times, July 18, 1879, page 3


    "DAVID AND ANNA MATSON."--We are indebted to Mrs. Duniway for a copy of her beautiful little book of poetry of this title. It is handsomely bound and beautifully illustrated, is published by S. R. Wells & Co., of New York, and has passed through two editions, thus establishing its acceptance to the public. It may be had upon application to Mrs. Duniway, price $2.50.
Ashland Tidings, July 18, 1879, page 3


    MRS. DUNIWAY IN ASHLAND.--Mrs. A. S. Duniway lectured in the academy building in this place on Tuesday evening to a large audience. After devoting about half an hour to the relation of her experiences in Jacksonville, the speaker narrated how she was led to make of herself an editor and a public speaker, weaving in with the narrative striking life pictures illustrative of the points she wished to make for her cause. Mrs. Duniway is a fluent and interesting speaker, and is thoroughly posted upon the subject of "woman's rights" in all its bearings. On Wednesday evening she lectured upon "Constitutional Liberty," but we were unable to be present, and consequently can give no report on it. Last evening she lectured here again and this evening she will lecture in Jacksonville.
Ashland Tidings, July 18, 1879, page 3

    The people at Phoenix have taken Mrs. Duniway's side of the trouble in Southern Oregon, as have also the better portion of those in Jacksonville. Mr. Samuel Colver, in a letter from Phoenix to the Ashland Tidings, gave a good account of her lectures in that place, and after fitly condemning the fact that "Mrs. Duniway was mobbed in Jacksonville by a crowd of bearded and beardless hoodlums," furnished that journal with the following resolutions, which were unanimously adopted by a rising vote at the conclusion of Mrs. Duniway's lecture on "The Temperance Problem":
    Whereas, Liberty of speech and of the press is guaranteed to all by the Constitution, parties being rightly held amenable to the courts for any abuse of the same; and all citizens should guard these rights with jealous care; and,
    Whereas, The action of the rabble of Jacksonville toward Mrs. Duniway, on the evening of Saturday, July 12th, deserves the severest condemnation of the good people in all civilized communities; therefore, be it
    Resolved, That we, as citizens of Jackson County, are unwilling to bear the justly deserved odium of the hoodlums of Jacksonville, incited to acts of violence against a woman by a set of soulless ingrates, who by their cowardly acts disgrace the mothers who bore them.
    Resolved, That such acts are a burning shame upon any community, and deserve the universal execration of all lovers of virtue and liberty.
    It is encouraging indeed to find good and true friends in the midst of such opposition as was met in Southern Oregon.
The New Northwest, Portland, July 24, 1879, page 2


Dear readers of the New Northwest:
    The last jottings we remember of chronicling for your perusal come back to us at this writing accompanied by a vision of eggs and effigies. Taking up the thread of the narrative where we that evening dropped it, we begin again the pleasant task of descriptive correspondence, an occupation rendered all the more enjoyable because of the exciting facts we have in store for your perusal.
    Sunday morning, the 13th inst., dawned brightly, and discovered a quiet atmosphere and equally quiet street in Jacksonville, the latter disfigured by the remains of the picture of George Washington in woman's garb, which had been burned in front of Mrs. Vining's hotel the night before as a feeble effigy of our humble self.
    At nine o'clock one of friend Plymale's buggies came for us, and a span of spirited horses, held well in hand by Master Willie Plymale, carried us over the beautiful country to Manzanita, eight miles distant from the scene of the riot, and here we met a splendid audience in the pleasant church among the spreading oaks, and for over two hours the good people listened with the deepest interest to the gospel of human liberty.
    In this neighborhood there are some of the handsomest and thriftiest farms we have ever seen, even in this preeminently beautiful country. The families of General Ross, Mr. Wrisley, Mr. Constant and Mrs. Merriman are among the wealthiest landowners whose acquaintance we have made, their elegant farms being well stocked, containing many acres of well-tilled soil, and large and exceedingly thrifty orchards.
    After a bountiful dinner and an hour's rest at good Mrs. Merriman's, Mr. James Curry and family, accompanied by Hon. Sam. Colver, drove by in a carriage and took us over to "Sticky"--another euphonious title--to the beautifully located farm of the former gentleman, where we tarried for the night, Uncle Sam departing for Phoenix on horseback to arouse the people there, as we had done at Manzanita, by giving an account of the mob in Jacksonville, and reading the letter in the New Northwest that had fired the heart of the editor of the Sentinel until he had gone stark crazy. In our simplicity of soul we had imagined that he would take our innocent satire on his lack of "brains" as a capital joke, but the sequel proved that we had hit him harder than he could bear. Before we had made him crazy by a joke, we had not dreamed that he was witless enough to be brained by a lady's pencil, but the deed is done, and we're awful sorry! (This is said to let our irate brother down easy. We don't mean a word of it, only as a joke.) The pretext that we have "slandered Judge Prim's family" is just as false as everything else he has tried to say about our uttered sentiments since our work in Jackson County began. We only exonerated and vindicated an injured woman, though it doubtless caused her untold agony for the moment, but her agony is intensified a thousandfold by the thugs of Jacksonville, who, in seeking to justify her husband in a deed which it is the sheerest nonsense to say had been forgotten, continually irritated the wound that otherwise would heal without further pain. We did but an act of justice, and were it to do over again, we would do no less. But it does go awful hard with man's rights when the time comes for its long abuse of usurped absolute power to receive its death blow. Indeed, it is kicking around awfully in its agonies, but its die is cast.
    On Monday evening, after we had spent a quiet day in the happy home of Mrs. Curry, at Sticky, we all went in their carriage over to Phoenix, where, after a rousing meeting (of which account is given in the Ashland Tidings, and notice elsewhere in the columns of the People's Paper), we spent the night in the home of the Colvers, whose hearts are as big as their house, and that's saying a good deal for both house and hearts.
    On Tuesday, accompanied by "Uncle Sam," the indomitable and irrepressible champion of liberty, whom all knaves are afraid of, we went on to Ashland, our way leading through a fertile valley of yet more radiant loveliness than any we had seen hitherto. The landscapes, that are in many places wild to intense ruggedness, now soften into billowy undulations, and, as we approach very near the beautiful city of peace, the verdant vale narrows into a cove-like "cuddy," and on the hills and at their feet the little city nestles, like a brooding dove in her content and loveliness. Flower gardens and fruit trees, handsome homes and sloping lawns abound, and clear, trickling water courses through pebbled ditches, with a merry, rippling melody, suggestive of continued human happiness.
    The man's rights element of Jacksonville had sent out prominent emissaries to forestall our mission, and so the Methodist Church, which had been promised for the lectures, was not only closed against us, but a religious (?) meeting was begun in it, for the purpose of protecting the pastor's idea of God from the logic of the women. The zealous trustees, who volunteered to stand between Jehovah and danger, next tried to prevail upon Mr. W. Myer (whose honored father, now in the Willamette Valley on business, had written him to place the Academy at our service, if we should need it) to disobey both father and mother by refusing us opportunity for a hearing. But the brave young gentleman proved incorruptible, and the Academy bell rang on time, keeping almost everybody away from the church, and bringing out a very large audience, which increased every evening, notwithstanding the feeble efforts to oppose our mission by the misguided brethren, of whom we could truly say, in the language of humanity's great Exemplar, "Father, forgive them; they know not what they do."

    The Ashland House, where we found comfortable accommodations and excellent food, is kept by Mr. and Mrs. Houck, who made our sojourn at their hotel decidedly pleasant. The well-known mercantile firm of McCall & Baum have a commodious and handsome brick store, where they do an immense business, their trade ranging from darning needles to Haines' harvesters, and from chewing gum to tons after tons of staple dry goods and groceries. We had not time to visit the woolen mills, though the neat, painted buildings looked invitingly at us from their location under the hill, but we called at the office of the "Ashland grist mills," which were established here in '54, and which have grown from a small beginning to a mammoth enterprise. There are a number of small dry goods and grocery stores, a drug store, a hardware emporium, a milliner's store, a splendid saddlery and harness shop (kept by Mr. Klum), a jeweler's corner, a boot and shoe shop, etc., but not a single groggery or house of ill repute. The contrast between the reception we have met from the prominent gentlemen of Ashland, as compared to that accorded to us by the ringleading, whiskey-pandering element in Jacksonville, that thinks it owns the city, is just what we might expect from the different moral elements of the two places. Jacksonville is ruled by lies and rum, Ashland by truth and soberness. The Ashland Tidings is a very creditable weekly paper, of which Mr. Leeds is the present editor. There is a large liberal element both here and at Phoenix, and the morals of these towns speak significantly well in favor of free religion. If we wanted to settle in an inland town, we know of none where there are greater promises for the future than in Ashland. The decent citizens of Jacksonville are anxious to get away from their modern Sodom and settle here, where they can send their children to school without fear of their being decoyed into wickedness by a riot-producing mob.
    Our last lecture was finished in Ashland, and, amid the enthusiastic goodbyes of scores of excellent Christian ladies, we took our departure this (Friday) morning for Phoenix, where we have spent the day at dear Mrs. Colver's in needed rest, and are now ready to take our departure for the city of the Philistines, where we are appointed to speak tonight, and thereby beard the Jacksonville mob in its den. You shall hear more anon.
The New Northwest, Portland, July 24, 1879, page 2


The New Northwest, Portland, July 24, 1879, page 2


    The people of this remote district are surprised and shocked by hearing of an evidence of the refinement (?) and intelligence (?) of Jacksonville society, that rather eclipses anything of the kind ever heard of in this part of the country. You have often heard the adage, "The pen is mightier than the sword," but Jacksonville is the first to match eggs against brains. Notwithstanding we deprecate the practice of airing unpleasant family histories for public reading, we have not heard that anyone has attempted to deny the truth of what Mrs. Duniway has written in regard to a member of the bench.
    It is a notable fact that the mob did not attack Mrs. D. during her lectures, but made the assault at the house of a defenseless woman. One would naturally suppose the honorable (?) people of the city would take some steps to have the disturbers of the peace punished. Had a crowd of our Butte Creekers been guilty of such an outrage, the penitentiary would scarcely be too great punishment. But it makes all the difference in the world (to the just Judge) whose ox is gored.
    The presence of Mrs. D. in this county has brought to the surface so many more friends of the cause she advocates than her best friends anticipated, that we feel quite jubilant, even though none of them appear willing to fight for her, especially with Jacksonville weapons. We consider the weapons emblematic of the cause they are used to defend, which must be rotten indeed when such means of defense must be resorted to. Doubtless the advocates of the "aristocracy of sex" call such conduct argument.
The New Northwest, Portland, July 24, 1879, page 2


Dear readers of the New Northwest:
    As we are well aware of the excitement and indignation of the thousands of friends of human rights who are gaining new strength and zeal in the prosecution of our work because they see more and more the need of another and better element in the lawmaking power of the land to hold in check the lawless classes who are now in possession of the balance of power everywhere, and who, through this power, virtually tie the hands of the best and most honorable men whenever they are so inclined, thereby placing the sacred liberties of the people, for which our fathers fought and died, in constant jeopardy, and, as we know these thousands of friends to our sacred cause are waiting anxiously to hear further news from the political missionary who has been compelled to become the Arnold Winkelried of the new dispensation in Jacksonville, we this morning, Monday, the 21st of July, awake with the dawn, and regarding you, our friends and readers, with far more consideration than another badly needed nap for our humble self, we sharpen our pencil and proceed to business.
    On Saturday morning we stopped over in daylight in the city of the Philistines, where a woman who preaches morality and human rights is in danger of losing her life at the hands of a mob after nightfall, though she is perfectly safe from molestation when the sun shines, and lo! and there wasn't a man of any claim to respectability who wasn't ready to swear that he was the very fellow who had been our staunch friend all along! Very well, let 'em think so, but we wish we hadn't made our appointments to lecture in other places in such a way before the riot that we cannot now stop to test their woman-protecting bravery. On Friday night, only a few hours before, we well remember seeing brazen prostitutes standing unmolested among the lawmakers on the street, while we were being conveyed away to the country for personal safety in the closed carriage of Mrs. Wright, one of the good Methodist sisters, who, with Mrs. Plymale, had opened the church for our lectures, but had at last had it locked in their faces by the pastor, who, as usual in such cases, had taken sides with the prostitutes and their associates, who, under the stop-thief cry of their class, had risen en masse to mob a woman who had dared to say in public, in answer to the "free love filth" with which they had sought to beslime her, "Both the fallen women and the fallen voters who support them know as well as I that just so soon as the wives and mothers of men in Jacksonville shall have the power of the ballot to aid them, they will make and enforce such statutes as shall banish drunkenness and prostitution from your city limits, and drive them in confusion to the abode of owls and bats." We can't see the utility of the "protection and esteem" of such lawmakers as desert their post when the sun goes down, and who compel their dear good wives and mothers to remain away from lectures they have been long planning to hear, for fear the rabble will pelt them with eggs. Where these virtuous daylight friends come out over their own signatures in the county papers, and declare themselves on the side of law and order, and determined to maintain it, we'll be a little more ready to accept their apologies and explanations. Anybody can be a sunshine friend. But we're not done with Jacksonville. We're going back there today to defy our defamers, and, if possible, shame them into decency. You shall know how we have succeeded.
    On Saturday we came out to Willow Springs, to the houses of our staunch friends the McDonoughs, and on Sunday, having previously engaged the best livery turnout from friend Plymale's well-stocked stable in Jacksonville, we started, with Mr. and Mrs. Plymale and Mrs. McDonough, to Foots Creek, where we were appointed to lecture at one p.m. Our road lay along the foot of the mountains, and, after a three or four hours' drive, led us up into the very heart of an old mining camp, yet vastly rich in the golden ore, but the diggings are now dry, and mining has ceased, and the good country people are turning their attention to farming, home-making and stock-raising. At the beautiful farmer's home of Mr. and Mrs. Lance we were all hospitably entertained, and after a sumptuous dinner we repaired to the school house a mile or two further up the little valley that lies between the Delectable Mountains.
    We had no idea that there were so many people here. They were thicker than July blackberries, and they kept coming after the lecture began till we had to pause frequently till new benches could be improvised, and then everybody couldn't get seats. Our speech continued for over two and a half hours, and when, at last, we bade the friends goodbye, it was difficult to leave them. But we promised to go back sometime.
    On our return to Willow Springs we came by another route, through a lovely, verdant and fertile valley, past innumerable gold fields, yet fabulously rich in ore, where the diggings have so long been dry, owing to the scarcity of the rainfall, that many places that have been burrowed out and turned over in bygone years are now overgrown with trees and briars, as though Nature were ashamed of the nudity to which the avarice of her children had wickedly subjected her.
    It is almost night when we reach Mrs. McDonough's pleasant home, and here we dismiss our team and retire to rest at an early hour, as calm and carefree and happy as a weary and sleepy child.
    But, as we told you in the beginning, it is Monday now, and we are again off for Jacksonville. Kind friends, everywhere, do not worry. There is a higher Power than men or mobs that overrules this woman movement.

The New Northwest, Portland, July 31, 1879, page 2


    Again, as we are well aware that anxious friends by thousands are awaiting a truthful version of the closing scenes of our sojourn in Jacksonville, we hurriedly seize our oft-offending, though truth-telling, pencil to portray facts as they have occurred during the interim since last we wrote you.
    On Monday, the 21st, we returned to the city of the Philistines as we had promised, though we were careful to enter and depart during daylight, as the "militia" and other protectors of women with whom we have had to deal in that modern Sodom are of the kind that are only to be feared in the darkness.
    At Mrs. Vining's we again found hospitable welcome, and, after a quiet, social dinner with Mrs. Kenney, Mrs. McDonough and Mrs. Plymale at Mrs. V.'s well-filled board, we scribbled an open letter to the men of Jacksonville, which, after a little elimination, the editors of the Times and the Sentinel agreed to publish, the former in his issue of the 24th, and the latter, whose paper was already full for this week, on his next publication day. We found our brethren of the press disposed to be affable, though they are not yet sufficiently over the licentious craze of a few of their evil-minded, loud-mouthed patrons to fairly distinguish virtue from vice, and so they still persist in saying that we have scandalized a lady by declaring her to have been unjustly attainted with masculine oppression and slander. "You ought to have permitted her and her children to bear the stain forever, because it was no longer the subject of street talk, and the judge's wife had got used to it," is the substance of their so-called logic. A man who is either so blind that he cannot, or so perverse that he will not, see the sacred principle involved in the facts we have published, and who has tried mob law to check the progress of free speech, free press and free women, is a thousand times wiser in his own conceit than seven women who can render a reason. You may "bray a fool seven times in a mortar," says Solomon, "and yet his folly will not depart from him."
    We refrain from publishing the unwise attempt of a certain young man to defend the injustice of his father at the expense of his mother's character, for the boy will be deeply enough ashamed of it after he has come out from among his mother's defamers and learned a little wisdom. It is not natural for a son to assist in defending a rabble in its indignation against a lady who has dared, in the face of long-established masculine opinion to the contrary, to declare that his mother is innocent of a crime. The youth, the inexperience, and the bad example that surround the boy are generously brought forward in his defense. Let us cover his mistake with the mantle of charity.
    We have another matter to tell you of, good reader, and it concerns the infamous conduct of the brigadier general of the Oregon militia, but eminent counsel advises us to wait till the matter has first been ventilated in a court at law. Even could we bring our pencil low enough to make it write them, we could not put the common street expressions of this chief of the home guards about us and to us upon paper without danger of being indicted for sending obscene matter through the United States mails.
    In the afternoon of Monday we made an address on the street, right in the midst of the crowd where we had been threatened with eggs and publicly howled at on the Friday before, and there was the most respectful silence and attention while we spoke. We defended the boys who had been accused of instigating the riot. We charged the whole cause of the disturbance upon older heads--voters and lawmakers--and we here predict that the sequel will prove it. The boys are not to blame. It was bearded and beardless hoodlums, and bad whiskey and voters and lawmakers that did it.
    But, after all, it's fun to see how we have scared the politicians. Quite a number of the bedrock Democrats think we have come out here under the patronage of the Republican Party, for the purpose of laying wires in the interest of some candidate or other for the United States Senate. Others say we are surreptitiously working for the success of the greenback or independent movement, and still others that we are in the interest of the dominant wing of the Oregon Democracy. But, no matter which horn of the dilemma they accept, they seize hold of it like drowning men catching at straws. The editor of the Sentinel hurls ruin in the path of Judge Prim, by pretending to be angry because we have told the truth, and a hundred Democratic voters who read the Sentinel have failed to see the point till they have fallen in the trap. The Independents and the Democrats of the Thayer school are also jealous of the man's rights judge, and they are a unit with the Republicans in secretly exciting the bedrock ring to go ahead and spoil the future chances of the judge. But he is wiser in one sense than them all.
    Years ago, when the Republicans joined with the Democrats in an organized warfare against the woman movement, we successfully silenced their "free love" cry by publishing a partly hidden chapter of gossip concerning the domestic history of the President of the United States. The outcry for a while was almost equal to this one, but the President had sense enough to say, when his attention was called to it: "The woman tells the truth. And she is right. If our wives and mothers had all along been equal with men before the law, such things would not have been." It was not to degrade the President, but to establish a principle, that we applied the hair of the political cur of politics to the venomous bite of the rabid quadruped. The application was incisive, but the cure was certain. But when will scurvy politicians learn that the influence of women who dare to strike for liberty because it is their rightful heritage is not, like theirs, for sale?
    We've got away with Jacksonville. We've defied its eggs, its whiskey, and its thugs. We've left every intelligent woman sorrowing because she did not dare, for fear of her protectors, to attend our closing lecture. But we're coming back again, good ladies. The earthquake has come among your lawmakers, and it has come to stay. Its eruptions will henceforth be periodical. The rotten eggs with which your protectors were prepared to pelt you if you ventured out that night will be consumed before this time next year with the glowing fires of law and liberty. We thank God and take courage.
The New Northwest, Portland, July 31, 1879, page 2


The New Northwest, Portland, August 7, 1879, page 2


Dear Readers of the New Northwest:
    We remember spending the next Monday night after leaving Jacksonville with the excellent family of Mrs. Dean, of Willow Springs, from whose hospitable home a party of us were taken in a hack on Tuesday morning to a noted mining camp, where we were shown over the auriferous grounds by Mr. Beck, the gentlemanly owner of one of the richest gold-bearing gardens in Jackson County. The diggings are dry now, and further operations have ceased for the summer, though all of the necessary arrangements for mining remain upon the grounds. We listened with much interest to the proprietor's graphic and well-illustrated description of the various methods of securing the ore. There were rockers, sluice-boxes, flumes, ripple-boxes, dippers, sieves, and whatnot, the half of which we cannot remember or describe.
    For a number of acres the earth has been burrowed out, turned over and thoroughly washed, leaving the surface all scarred and corrugated, as though a cancer had been gnawing at its vitals, and had left it spent and desolate at last, because it could no longer find food to its liking upon which to forage. Mr. Beck, a thorough gentleman, whose only fault is protracted single blessedness, located this claim a dozen years ago, and has added to it from time to time by purchase, until he now has paying ground enough to keep a half-dozen men at work for a lifetime. But, like most successful men, he is not carried away with his good fortune, and he takes life philosophically, as a sensible and prosperous gentleman should. There is also a very rich quartz mine on the Dean ranch, a mile or two above Mr. Beck's, but we did not have time to visit it, although the camp where the miners were at work was plainly visible from the post office, where we all waited for half an hour for the arrival of the stagecoach, the view we enjoyed from the front door the while being passing beautiful. Mt. McLoughlin, looking for all the world like a mammoth muskmelon, with the gaps between its corrugated ridges filled with snowy lines of melting loaf sugar, loomed high above the hill-encircled valley, that, like a huge table laden with fruits and cereals, smiled placidly in the face of the bending sky, while Flora, Ceres and Pomona swayed their magic scepters everywhere. Gorgeous Summer, resplendent in her trailing robes of ripened wheat, had seated herself at her harvest feast, and sated Plenty reveled in the very height of her glory. But yonder comes the stage, and we must atop these reveries for the nonce, while we climb to the dusty boot, and, hooked by our tightly clasping digits to the iron rods that fairly scorched them in the blistering heat, go crashing down the road.
    Eight miles and Rock Point, where we enter the one hotel and seek a room to rest for an hour, and then sally forth to reconnoiter. The little burg is fast asleep, though it is midday. The few people here seem to neither think nor act--that is, if we except the landlady and the stage men and their wives, who deserve commendation for the courtesy and kindness with which they treated us, and without which we should have simply counted the time in disgusted discontent during every waking minute of the next twenty-four hours. For some reason, which we leave the reader to conjecture, the bills sent from Jacksonville announcing the lecture had not been received or posted. The man who had charge of the schoolhouse didn't appear upon the scene, and but for the aforesaid stage men, who used the coach candles to light the schoolroom, and the advent of a large hackload of young gentlemen and ladies from Willow Springs, the lecture would have been an entire failure. But, with these efficient aids, we captured the fort and held it. And the next time we stop over at Rock Point somebody besides the landlady and the transportation people of the otherwise dead asleep little hamlet will know it. There are men here pretending to do business as merchants who would think you were telling a Woman Suffrage lie if you should inform them that Andrew Jackson was dead. Of course such men are furious for the revival of the "lost cause," and, having no colored slaves to subjugate, they insist upon the further subjugation of the women.
    We are much relieved when the friendly stagecoach takes us aboard on Wednesday at twelve M. [noon], and, with our face turned northward, we go crashing on toward Roseburg, every turn of the revolving wheels hurrying us further away from the thugs of Jacksonville--thank God--and bringing us that much nearer heaven.
    Three o'clock and Grants Pass. Now we are among reading and thinking people, and, of course, among friends. The hotel here is kept by Mr. and Mrs. Dimick, who also have charge of the store and post office. Here we rest till half-past eight, and then meet a goodly audience in the schoolhouse, who listen gladly to the gospel of liberty. We have long had several subscribers to the People's Paper here, and wherever the people read and think, and abjure whiskey and lewdness, our mission is always welcomed.
    After the lecture the friends gathered for an hour at the hotel, where we held a delightful social reunion with both young and old, and we would gladly have accepted their half-dozen invitations to hold meetings at other places had our other numerous engagements permitted. Mr. Dimick is building a large hotel, Mr. Campbell has a flourishing carpenter's shop, there are several families living near, and the various industries necessary to form the nucleus of an inland town in the midst of a fine farming region are in process of inception.
    People came from six to a dozen miles to attend the meeting, and this, too, in the midst of harvest and in the heat of midsummer. The nest day at three P.M. we embarked for Levens' Station, thirty miles distant from Grants Pass, and, after a breakneck ride of four and a half hours, alighted at the hotel, where an eager audience awaited us. Tired, bruised and travel-worn as we were, we soon met the friends of human liberty in the hall above the store, where we addressed them for an hour and a half, and when, at a late hour, we disposed of our weary bones and aching head upon one of Mrs. Levens' sumptuous beds, we dreamed that all the eggs in Jacksonville had been hatched into full-fledged sage hens, that were driving such lawmakers as dealt in slander and rottenness into the open fields, making them scatter the filthy garbage broadcast. Then, after a while, it seemed that golden fruitage crowned the labors of the sage hens, until in all the beautiful land there was no more room for the offensive debris that had erewhile filled the minds of men with evil thoughts and loathsome deeds.
    This, the Levens ranch at Galesville, was one of the most noted stopping places for travelers in this region during the palmy days of the Southern Oregon gold mines. The hotel, which is a large log building, covered outside with weatherboards and paint, and lined inside with ceiling and cloth and paper, was riddled in many places with bullets during the Indian war. More than one fortune has been made with this hotel and farm, and many others are yet to be made right here. But we must not linger here, inviting as is the prospect, for yonder comes the stage, and we are off for Canyonville, some fifteen miles away. They do have long miles in this wild country, presumably because its surface is so hilly that it takes a great deal of measuring to span the distances, and they count the leagues by air lines.
    The coach is crowded, but we are fortunate enough to secure an outside seat. Several passengers climb to the extreme top rather than go inside, and there they perch till we reach Canyonville. though they are sometimes in imminent danger of losing their heads by contact with the intersecting telegraph wires, which occasionally hang alarmingly low over the great highway.
    Now we are on the Canyonville toll road, a ten-mile thoroughfare, constructed with infinite labor and expense through mighty mountain gorges, where for long distances the way is barely wide enough for the prancing team, which goes tearing ahead in the darkness, the stagecoach candles sending forth a glare of cheery light for a little distance, beyond which the gloom is rendered all the denser by the contrast. You cannot see the leaders' heads, which at every turn (and there are many hundreds) are plunging into gaps like Erebus, where black Cimmerian darkness holds high carnival with the reigning ghoul of Night. On, on and on we go, bounding, crashing, plunging at a breakneck speed, for the stage line, without which this whole country would be like a huge demijohn with the cork driven home and hermetically sealed--the stage line, which brings many a resident who curses it his only chance for a livelihood, is on short time in its transits now, and we are half an hour behind.
    Eleven o'clock and Canyonville. The little town is as still as the fabled Lethe. The gibbous moon has loosed her hold upon the air and fallen down behind the tree-covered mountains, and her silvery light no longer dims the glory of the jeweled stars. The Canyonville House, where we take refuge for the night, is aroused by our advent, and a bright-eyed daughter of the good landlady shows us to a tiny room, where we soon doze away into dreamland, the chief subject of our cogitations--home.
    This evening (Saturday) we are to begin a course of lectures here in the church, and in our next can tell you all about the place, the meetings, and the people.
Canyonville, July 26, 1879.
The New Northwest, Portland, August 7, 1879, page 2


    Gentlemen of Oregon, and such only are addressed as deserve the title, we ask you, respectfully and sincerely, to read and ponder well, for we have some important thoughts for your consideration, to which we wish to call your special attention.
    A few weeks ago, inspired by the same confidence in human nature that has carried her safely through eight years of active public life, the senior editor of the New Northwest went to Jacksonville in the pursuit of her mission. She found there many grand, good, noble ladies, and a few public-spirited and progressive gentlemen, who, in spite of the ribald jokes of their associates, treated her with that respect which is justly due from one civilly inclined person to another, without taking sex into account at all. The thought or word or deed that is always bringing forward the sex of a lady when considering her work is the thought, word or deed of a vulgar mind, and should not be tolerated by gentlemen. But it is tolerated. It was more than tolerated--it was encouraged--in Jacksonville. Mrs. Duniway, having unlimited confidence in the innate chivalry of the better classes of men, accepted the ribald ridicule and organized opposition of those high in power and place in her usual serenity of spirit, well knowing that in a mental contest, the only form of combat that is rightfully in keeping with the spirit of the age, she was more than a match for their ridicule and burlesque. So she bided her time and retorted in the New Northwest, giving measure for measure in the line of facetiae and squib, supplementing the whole with a statement of facts about an offending Judge--facts yet green in the memory of every citizen of Oregon, and kept so by common report, yet so distorted hitherto by the gossip of men that she herself believed, with hundreds of others, until she went to Jacksonville and heard the other side of the story from ladies who had known the Judge's injured wife from the beginning, that she had been a sort of Mrs. Sickles and her lordly husband a justified Daniel E. come to judgment.
    Judge Prim is a well-known opponent of woman's enfranchisement. His rulings in the courts are invariably to the effect that women have no legal rights which men are bound to respect. In this sense--and this only--be is a veritable Justice Taney, and all women in law and equity are Dred Scotts to him. He claims that women do not need the ballot for protection because they are better protected as they are. The opportunity to exhibit the manner in which the Judge "began at home" by protecting his own wife from masculine slander was too good for Mrs. Duniway to lose. Her sense of justice toward an injured woman was another incentive that induced her to publish the facts and vindicate the lady's character. For this she has been subjected to the vilest indignities from men, indignities for which there is no avenue for redress except through the courts of men. But this is not the question which you are specially called upon to consider. There is another and general question of far more importance to her than mere personal considerations, and that is this: Have women a country? And are they not wholly at the mercy of men, who would not rest a moment had they no greater personal guarantee of legal safety or protection from each other than that which they accord to ladies? It will not suffice for you to beg the question and say that all men are not a Supreme Judge or a Brigadier-General, and that many public officers are men of honor. We know that already. Neither are all men murderers, but you do not, on that account, refuse to make a general law to protect the people from being murdered, or punish those who kill. The difficulty with you lies right here. You have been so long accustomed to overlook the individual sovereignty of women that the fact of their innate equality with you before the law dawns upon you slowly, and in fractional exceptions. You are asked to think less of the sex of woman and more of her inherent claim equally with yourselves upon "life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness." You cannot represent woman because you cannot put yourselves in her place. But you can demand that she be empowered with the right to use her inalienable right to represent herself. To the fact that men cannot be depended upon to protect women from slander and insult, Mrs. Duniway's recent experience in Jacksonville, as well as Judge Prim's example, bears ample testimony.
    Gentlemen of Oregon, how long shall these things be? Do you not realize that your own daughters may become the Mrs. Prims of the future? And do you not see that there is no guarantee that they shall be safe from a like injustice in case some evil-minded "protector" of women sees fit to slander them in hearing of their future husbands? The same law and usage holds as good today against a slandered woman as it did a dozen years ago. The sacred principle at stake is just as important as it was then. It is an issue that will not die till women are enfranchised. Will you do your duty?
The New Northwest, Portland, August 7, 1879, page 2


    Attention is called to the letter of a lady friend of human rights in Jacksonville, which appears in this issue of the New Northwest, and hails from the "seat of war." This lady quietly gave us much aid and comfort while in Southern Oregon, but kept herself in the background, partly to please her family, and partly because she imagines herself unprepared for public life. It will be observed that she, as well as hundreds of others of the "protected sex," were seriously disappointed because they were frightened away from our closing lecture. Her letter is especially commended to the consideration of the editors of Jacksonville, as well as the other voters who witnessed the disgraceful conduct of the West Shore's model--conduct which we cannot describe in print because of its low obscenity. But surely our friend is mistaken. Surely it cannot be that the sons of women have fallen so low, even in Jacksonville, that they will commit perjury! We cannot believe it. Surely there is some good to be found among them. At any rate, we propose to test it.
    Our correspondent asks for faith equal to ours that a better day is coming. Depend upon it, friend, the better day is almost here. The darkest hour of the night is just before the morning. This stirring-up was exactly what your people needed. They will yet rally to the support of law, order, soberness and decency. The subsidized press will soon be supplanted by a higher order of journalism. Men who now hobnob with shameless, open-day blackguards will quit it, or they will cease to prosper. A few years ago the entire Portland press, with the one exception of the People's Paper, was as dumb and obstinate as yours is now concerning this great question of equal rights. First it tried ridicule, and got checkmated by dignity, repartee and squibs. Then it tried misrepresentation, and was checkmated by facts. After that came vilification, then silence, and then respect and truthfulness. Today, among the eighteen newspapers published regularly here, there are but two opponents, and they are starving. These two are the only papers in the state outside of Jacksonville that pander to the mob-ruling spirit, and the few readers they had among the better classes are fast forsaking their faltering destinies.
The New Northwest, Portland, August 14, 1879, page 2


    I happened to be in Ashland at the time of Mrs. Duniway's visit there, and heard her able lecture upon "Constitutional Liberty." Then I hunted up her newspaper article which was claimed by the ringleaders of the Jacksonville riot as the pretext for their lawlessness, and can say that, while I enjoyed the general hits it contained, as a political and personal friend to Judge Prim, I at first felt sorry that she had alluded to the unpleasant episode in his domestic history, which we should all be glad to forget. But, when I learned from Mrs. D.'s friends the provocation that had induced it, my sorrow for the Judge changed to admiration for the lady's grit. It has been ascertained with sufficient certainty to proclaim as a fact that the mob was at first a put-up job among the Judge's enemies, in order to connect his name with a disgraceful riot and bring him into public contempt, and thus break down one of the prominent leaders of a dreaded political enemy. And yet it is equally true that his own personal and political friends, who did the most of the blowing--and all of the effigy and egging business--didn't have sense enough to see it till several days after they were trapped!
    Those incipient but blighted buds of Blackstone [We omit their names because they are not worth advertising.--Ed], whose bile was in such a fearful state of ebullition during Mrs. D.'s sojourn in Southern Oregon, should be presented by the Judge's enemies with a cheap chromo for the rare and unparalleled combination of egotism, vulgarity, stupidity, mendacity and ignorance they so eminently embody.
    Popular opinion, like the mills of the gods, grinds slow, but exceeding small, and the universal disgust consequent upon the misdirected ardor in the Judge's behalf over a simple matter of well-known truth to which Mrs. D. may have wisely or unwisely been provoked to allude--ardor which culminated in a disgraceful riot--will continue to rise and spread and thicken in this county, and from thence all over the state, until the very atmosphere will be surcharged with indignation, and the bare mention of the unfortunate circumstance will sting and burn and blister like the poisoned trail of the centipede.
    The reaction of the influence of such friends as rallied in the defense of the Judge will prove more rank and deadly to him than that of the Upas, more subtle than the viper's virus, and more surely destructive than the grip of an avenging Nemesis. He may well invoke the gods to spare his enemies and save him from his friends, for steadily but surely are they dragging him down, down! until their own low level shall have been reached. He now owes it to himself to come forward and state whether these bearded outlaws are his bosom friends, as they claim to be, and, if so, whether he endorses their lawlessness. A more cowardly and contemptible set of toadies and ruffians could not be found anywhere else outside the walls of a penitentiary. If these men are Judge Prim's friends--and we are certainly justified in assuming that they are, since the outrage was committed in his name--then all decent men, as Democrats, must repudiate him; as voters, we must denounce him; and as friends to law and order, we must renounce further affiliation with him or his kind.
Sams Valley, August 5, 1879.
The New Northwest, Portland, August 14, 1879, page 2


    A good portion of our space is given up to correspondents this week, who are certainly coming to the front right royally, although those resident in the midst of the late riot are still too rigidly held under a reign of lawlessness to be justified in risking their lives by giving their names to the public. Reading the letter of the gentleman from Sams Valley leads us to say right here, that if the Judge, in whose name the outrage to which "Law and Order" alludes was committed, is at all worthy of the place he occupies, he will yet repudiate the action of that mob. The man has not yet lived who could sustain himself under the pestilential influence of the kennel of curs who are at present barking for him. But we well comprehend the final result. Like the French, who were ready to shout "Vive la Napoleon!" when the conqueror was chief, yet when fallen and conquered were the first to forsake him, so will the mob repudiate their own action after their chief has fallen. If he can stand the dastardly insult to decency which has been committed in his name by his pretended friends without openly rebuking and condemning it, he deserves and will receive the contumely of every gentleman, and the scorn of every lady in the land.
The New Northwest, Portland, August 14, 1879, page 2


    Doubtless you are safe at "home again" ere this, engaged in thinking over the experiences of your Southern Oregon campaign, and expressing astonishment with your friends at the discoveries you made while in Jacksonville. But you are not more surprised than we to discover the fact that not only is the freedom of speech and of the press abridged by force of eggs in some cases, but in others the barbarous freedom of the Dark Ages is openly indulged in. The fact that any wearer of masculine apparel could be so cowardly as to use insulting and obscene language to an unarmed woman on the street--language that he would not dare use to a man--ought to be enough of disgrace for Jacksonville to bear, without the subsequent fact that, by virtue of cash in hand and supposed unlimited credit in San Francisco, such persons are enabled to wield such an influence that even the witnesses to the cowardly outrage are asserting that, rather than testify to the truth, they will swear they know nothing about it--and that, too, when even women know that such swearing would be perjury. And the saddest thought in this connection is that men, heretofore supposed to have some regard for honor, will meet such blackguards on a "level," thereby endorsing such indecency. The press, too, is subsidized and silent. Money and vulgarity are evidently at a premium among the voters.
    Verily, the situation of the "protected" women of this place is almost hopeless, when they dare not even attend a lecture when they wish to for fear of being attacked with eggs and dirty sticks. What indignity must we suffer next? Pray that we may have faith, equal to yours, that a better day is coming. Yours for a change,
Jacksonville, August 2, 1879.
The New Northwest, Portland, August 14, 1879, page 2


    There is so much to say to the readers of the People's Paper from this region that I do not know where to begin, but, first of all, let me thank the New Northwest for hermetically sealing the Jacksonville papers against the woman question. Not another disrespectful word have they uttered about us, not another falsehood have they expressed, nor have they distorted another of our sentiments since you unsheathed your two-edged sword of truth and ridicule, and proved to them that a righteous cause was not afraid of the burlesque of its enemies when backed, as every good endeavor is, by facts. But the good that will accrue to our cause by this "new departure" is not the only benefit that is likely to accrue from Mrs. Duniway's visit here.
    The city papers have been in the habit of publishing everything, from the unpleasant and unsavory private histories of the lives and deeds of prominent citizens down to their "religious certificates." And, since they made such an outcry against Mrs. D. for stating a well-known public matter of simple truth in the direct line of her duty as woman's champion, I do wish you had their old files for fifteen years back, just to let you see how much worse than anything she ever thought of are their published utterances about opposing candidates for office. I have a friend who has several of these old papers, and it may be necessary to send you a few extracts. I did not know at first but their present silence in Mrs. D.'s case was another instance of "bulldozing"--that they had been "overawed by the military," but, on second thought, we fervently hope that they have discovered the inconsistency of their position against her, and will remain hermetically sealed until after the next election. It such be the case, there are a number of citizens who design to become candidates who will draw a long breath.
    The Brigadier-General evidently knows he went too far. You do not imagine what a silence has fallen on the city since that night Mrs. D. left. Everybody felt that Jacksonville had given itself a hard blow, and every word our paper says about it cuts like a knife. The press generally condemns the riot, just as all good people do. The West Shore man sent copies of his paper to all of the prominent citizens here, my husband included. Of course the publisher attacked Mrs. D. as he did to curry favor with "such men as T.G.R.," [Thomas G. Reames] etc., etc. But it was fun to see the men collect in crowds on the corners the Saturday after to read the New Northwest and laugh over the West Shore's well-merited castigation that it contained. Men are learning that women are no longer weak nor timid nor powerless when they know their cause is just.
    We are all wondering who the Sams Valley correspondent is. Do you know that I have been accused of writing those letters. I feel highly honored over it. They made the mob element boil.
    Rev. Mr. Crowell has been quite sick. He killed himself by his course during the riot. The mob element to which he pandered will detest him, and the best people will only tolerate him.
    In the last Sentinel observe the column of locals, and near the top you will find mention of another case of crim. con. that has developed itself in this woman-mobbing community. The "leading man" is the local preacher in the north end of the county, and the other party is a weak-minded member of his congregation who doesn't want to vote. Now let the Brigadier-General get out his eggs and effigy for the Sentinel. There is missionary work for the evangelists in their own fold if they would but attend to it. Besides, this is the eighth case of seduction thus advertised here within the past twelve months.
    Mrs. D. need not wonder that she was mobbed in this climate. The wonder is that she was not killed outright, for she attacked iniquity in high places, and was the first woman to come among us publicly daring to defend the weak against the mighty.
Jacksonville, August 31, 1879.
The New Northwest, Portland, September 4, 1879, page 2


    Hoodlumism has been so rampant at public meetings of late that the assistance of the law will be invoked and offenders brought to justice upon the first convenient occasion. If boys have not enough respect for themselves and the people who compose these assemblages to behave properly on their own accord, they should soon become aware of the fact that there is a penalty for their meanness.--[Jacksonville Times.
    When the men of a city behave themselves in a ruffianly manner, as many men of Jacksonville did no longer ago than last summer, they can hardly expect boys to be models of propriety.
The New Northwest, Portland, March 4, 1880, page 2


    In looking through an old copy of the Jacksonville Times, which I yesterday got hold of by accident, I found, under head of "What We'll Swear Off for 1880," this item: "Mrs. Duniway--her native nastiness." I hesitated about copying such an expression for the consideration of a respectable journal like the New Northwest, but my indignation grew the greater with my waiting, and today I feel that I must ask to be heard in honest protest. It is perhaps natural for journals like the Times and Sentinel, that are noted chiefly for the indecent character of their "personals," to raise the stop-thief cry when a decent newspaper, edited by a lady whose moral character is above reproach, comes to the front and puts their "native nastiness"--excuse the word--to open shame by her fearless denunciation of immorality and tyranny, but their outcry is very offensive to the people, nevertheless.
    Since Mr. Nickell has had control of the Times, he has published many articles that I now recall, for instance, one entitled "Religious Certificates," and another, "That Boy's Brother's Rejoinder," either of which, had they appeared in a woman's paper, would have caused the editor to be indicted for sending obscene matter through the mails. And yet Mr. Nickell not only goes scot free, but he steps out of his way to throw the filth of his own imagination at a lady who has only evoked his ire because she has proved her ability and courage to denounce tyranny and wickedness in high places.
    The Sentinel has also lately had another mild attack of the Duniway rabies (another Turnerism), and has been boasting that "tramps and females" are the only people whom Jacksonvillains [sic] fail to treat with decency. But the Sentinel ought not to have been quite so sweeping in its allusions to "females," under this head, for everybody knows that when an abandoned woman comes to Jacksonville--and several are always here to stay--she can drag her gorgeous trappings through the streets with impunity, and no one tries harder than our editors to do her honor. The lady who dares to rebuke sin and denounce iniquity in high places is the only person who is in danger of a mob of editors and marshals and brigadier generals in Jacksonville.
March 1, 1880.
The New Northwest, Portland, March 18, 1880, page 2  "Turnerism" refers to J. H. Turner of the East Oregonian.


    A letter from a prominent gentleman of Southern Oregon states that hoodlumism was so rampant at Jacksonville that the citizens made no arrangements for any demonstration on the arrival of the Presidential party, fearing that the slums of the town would cause trouble and publicly insult the company. There was not even a committee appointed to receive the distinguished visitors, but it was necessary for the party to remain overnight, and in the evening a quiet reception was held. That the guests noticed the town's slight is shown by the fact that they mentioned the kind welcome accorded them at Ashland. It is enough to flush the face of every Oregonian to know that the only discourtesy shown the President on his tour was shortly after his arrival in our state. Brigadier General Thos. G. Reames, of the Oregon State Militia, is president of the town board of Jacksonville, and such a man could not be expected to rise above his level, even to welcome the Chief Executive of the nation. The respectable people of the place feel deeply humiliated that they could not venture to treat the President with the respect due his station.
The New Northwest, Portland, October 7, 1880, page 4


    A Jacksonville correspondent enviously writes that "from some cause or combination of causes, Ashland has recently outgrown many other villages of Southern Oregon." The cause is that Ashland is without the class that makes Jacksonville a plague spot, and consequently has more than rivaled the town of eggs and effigies. Were the latter place rid of its demoralizing element, its good citizens would make it an honor to the state.
The New Northwest, Portland, December 9, 1880, page 4


TO THE READERS OF THE NEW NORTHWEST:
    The inside of the California and Oregon stagecoach was crowded with passengers on the evening of the 12th instant, when your correspondent climbed to the welcome outside seat above the boot and took her place on a lofty perch, bound for an all-night ride in the dust and gloom of an Indian summer night. Beside her, upon the one hand, was the skillful manager of the spanking six-in-hand, who officiates at once as conductor, engineer and brakeman, and upon the other sat Al. Holman, the wide-awake young representative of the Oregonian, likewise bound for Jackson County.
    The road from Roseburg to Myrtle Creek is rough and mountainous, grandly picturesque in the gloom of evening, and would of course be doubly so by moonlight. The moon was behind time on this occasion, and a lively controversy as to its probable time of rising occurred between Tobe, the driver, and George, a station hand, who was perched behind us on the coach.
    "She'll be up and shining by the time we reach the Myrtle Creek station," said Tobe.
    "Bet you a gallon o' soap you won't see her at Myrtle Creek," said George.
    "Bet a washboard against your soap."
    "Done."
    Nothing more was said for half an hour. Then Al. saw a luminous glow creeping up the horizon's edge, and exclaimed:
    "There's your moon!"
    Vain delusion. It was only a forest fire.
    "Let that washboard be of double zinc, ribbed back, and latest pattern," said George, exultantly.
    After another half hour we came to a low indenture in the adjacent mountain chain, and there, sure enough, was Luna, shining serenely in our faces from beneath a cap of shadow that gave her a gibbous shape.
    "I'll turn in that gallon of soap on my wash bill," said Tobe.
    And so on, alternately, soap was ahead in the sags [low places in the road], and washboards were at a premium in other places, till we reached Myrtle Creek, when the bet was decided a "draw," the moon being neither up nor down because of the undulations of the mountains and the road.
    At this point we changed horses for a slower team, and on we went up the South Umpqua Valley, through a region passing beautiful, sometimes encountering narrow grades, and again emerging into little vales, the busy driver upon the right and the tree-clad mountains upon either hand, with here and there a silent farmhouse piercing the drowsy air with its humble roof as it sat asleep by the roadside.
    George left us at Myrtle Creek, and Tobe at Levens' station. We had learned to appreciate Tobe, and felt sorry to part with so good a driver. But here was his home station, and our loss was his gain, for he was weary enough with his six hours' struggle with six horses, and it was his time for rest. The new driver proved an interesting oddity. Al. and ourselves theoretically drew straws for choice, and the "soap story" fell to us, else we should like to tell the "horse anecdote," for which see [the] Oregonian.
    The night seemed a week in length. The air grew chilly and the miles interminably long. But the gray of the morning came at last, bringing us to the breakfast station and a roaring pitchwood fire. In twenty minutes we were off again, refreshed, but oh! so lazy. The hours rolled on, the sun mounted high in the heavens, the dust thickened and the horses lagged, but by dint of constant whipping they made tolerable time.
    The South Umpqua River was left far in the rear, and Rogue River, about its equal in volume, but prettier, if possible, in character, came into sight. Gold fields began to abound, deserted now, and dry. The bosom of Nature has been cut and scarified in a shameful manner in these parched areas, as though a cancer had left its horrible ravages everywhere--ravages that the wounded earth could never heal.
    Noon, and Rock Point. "Twenty minutes for dinner." We bolt the meal and bowl ahead. The narrow valley is widening now, and we are nearing Jacksonville. Away to our left, in the hazy distance, the beautiful Umpqua Prairie spreads its ample lap freighted with autumn's richest bounties. It is like Camas Prairie in Idaho, or Spokan Prairie in Washington. It is like Salem Prairie in Marion or the plains of Washington or Linn County. In some respects it is unlike all of these, but in general outlines it is strikingly similar.
    Yonder, at the base of an amphitheater of tree-studded hills, diversified here and there by farms and vineyards that creep down to the level edges, sits the historic town of Jacksonville. Everything is quiet, and we descend from our lofty perch and meet Madame Holt at her splendid brick hotel, and she proves the most hospitable of landladies as she conducts her dust-laden guest to a pleasant chamber, where plenty of soap and water soon transform us from a dusty pyramid to a clean but sleepy mortal.
    After fifteen hours of uninterrupted slumber, we descend to a breakfast fit for a royal feast. Everybody marvels that Madame Holt can give so much good food for the reasonable charges she makes. Broiled chicken, beefsteaks smothered in butter, steaks and onions, fish, ham and eggs, biscuit, hotcakes, coffee with genuine cream, native wine if you want it, and fruits in abundance, form her breakfast melange, with dinner and supper in proportion. Yet the Madame, who has reared this hotel as a monument to her own industry, has no voice in the disposition of her heavy taxes, while any irresponsible beer-slinger of the protecting sex can vote to tax her property to suit himself.
    Thursday was Pioneers' Day. The reunion was to be held at Ashland, and Madame Holt placed an elegant livery team at our disposal, and furnished a driver, also at her own expense; a courtesy for which we are duly grateful, as all other teams were in use, and but for her hospitality we should have missed what proved a most enjoyable day.
    The drive of fifteen miles from Jacksonville was accomplished without accident. The insufferable heat of previous days gave way to balmy air and Indian summer sunshine. Upon the right rolled the beautiful foothills, and upon the left lay the expansive valley of the Rogue River, narrowing, after leaving Phoenix, till it came to an abrupt enclosure of picturesque mountain scenery, at whose feet sat the finely located town of Ashland, with all her people arrayed for a holiday.
    After a brief rest at the hotel, we accompanied the moving crowd to an alder grove, under whose shade a speaker's stand and band's and choir's platform looked pleasingly down upon a semi-circular succession of temporary seats. Music by the band was followed by a fervent prayer by Rev. Mr. Williams. The choir, under the musical supervision of Miss Ella Scott (a beloved relative and old-time pupil of the undersigned), sang "A Hundred Years Ago" in spirited style. Judge Day, husband of our erewhile Albany friend, Mrs. McGee Day, read appropriate resolutions on the death of B. B. Griffin and Levi Tinkham, and the choir sang "Years of Our Childhood." Judge Huffman, president of the Society, then announced that no regular speaker had been chosen for the day, and as your correspondent had recently arrived in Southern Oregon and was now in the audience, she was respectfully invited to address the pioneers. We were taken off our guard and out of our line, but we did the best we could, our theme taking a wide range, the large audience according it the most respectful attention, and several voices crying "go on," when, at [the] end of the hour's effort, we resumed our seat. The camp fires of the pioneers have died out, but the hearts of the survivors are yet warm, and their hospitality is unchangeable to the last.
    The choir sang a concluding chorus, and the crowd formed into companies according to their dates as pioneers, '45 coming first, then '46, and so on to immigrants of '52, and marched to martial music into the depths of an adjoining grove, where a bountiful feast was spread upon snowy tables festooned at the ends by arches of old-fashioned flowers, as appropriate as beautiful. Mr. E. K. Anderson, the marshal of the day, proved a veritable general in his arrangement of the companies, and pioneer women by scores passed tempting viands over the loaded tables, feeding pioneer men and women by hundreds.
    After dinner came a genuine old-time reunion and hand-shaking among all the people. Many acquaintances made by ourself two years ago at the Fourth of July celebration at Willow Springs were present. Hosts of new friends were made, and it was indeed pleasant to be there.
    After an hour or two of social converse, the crowd returned to the speakers' grove, and after-dinner speeches became the order. Father Beeson spoke first, and though seventy-eight years old, proved himself able to interest the thinking multitude with "bedrock facts" in a speech of great pith and power. Among other things, he said:
    It was recorded in history by Confucius, many centuries before the Christian era, and confirmed by Christ in the same positive command, that we should do unto others as we would have them do unto us--unto women as well as unto men--which reminds us of the bedrock fact that woman, being coequal with man in the origin and destiny of the race, her natural right is coequal with his in its government, and that until her influence is as paramount for good in public affairs as it is in a well-ordered family, the nation will continue in a state of dissatisfied unrest, like children bereft of a mother's care. This brings us to the bedrock fact that better men, and methods, cannot be until mothers are provided with better conditions for their production. When this is done, and the best men and women are jointly placed to rule the nation, we may look for the following results:
    First--A revision of the Constitution, which the clear instincts of women will see to be necessary.
    Second--The adjustment of Indian affairs, for the equal benefit of both races.
    Third--The substitution of arbitration for war.
    Fourth--The discharge of the army, and a great reduction of taxes.
    Fifth--Equal pay for equal work, in all vocations.
    Sixth--Fewer and better children, with their increase proportioned to the increased ratio of the production of food.
    Seventh--The rule of science, instead of obsolete creeds.
    Other measures of equal importance will be adopted in due time as the world advances in intelligence.
    In the course of his remarks he referred to "Mrs. Grundy," who, he said, was no doubt in the audience, but he must risk offending her, for he must not tell the truth though the heavens fell.
    Ex-Representative Smith, who was on the platform, undertook to correct Mr. Beeson, "You mean Mrs. Duniway!" he exclaimed, with the voice of a Stentor, "That's the lady's name--Duniway!" he repeated, amid roars of laughter.
    The good old speaker kindly explained the meaning of the mythical character, and went on with his address.
    The next speaker was the distinguished gentleman above named, who related several pioneer incidents connected with the famous Donner party, of which he was a member, his language being original if not elegant.
    Mr. E. K. Anderson, who is one of the leading men of Ashland, then spoke for fifteen minutes, and, like Mr. Beeson, made a rousing woman suffrage argument. He was followed by Mr. Kahler and others whose names we did not catch.
    We were called upon to make the closing speech, and considerable pleasantry occurred between friend Smith and ourself over his innocent but laughable mistake in regard to "Mrs. Grundy."
    The crowd broke up in the jolliest of humors, and we returned to Jacksonville in good spirits, realizing as never before that
    And now, for several days, we have been idle, owing to a return of the severe indisposition that laid us by at Roseburg. There's no use in talking; forty-seven isn't twenty-five, and all the ambition you can muster will not cause Mother Nature to rebate one jot or tittle of her rigorous demands for occasional relaxation when you are nearing the summit of life's meridian. We are being royally cared for by Madame Holt, and have had no end of hospitable attention from many other friends. We are feeling better now and will soon be able to lecture. The Plymales, Cardwells, Dowells, Beekmans, Kinneys and many others have been specially obliging, and the editors of the Sentinel, Times and Tidings are as courteous and fair toward ourself and mission as any lady could desire.
New Northwest, Portland, September 22, 1881, page 1


    The Jacksonville brass bad complimented Mrs. A. S. Duniway with a serenade after her lecture in that place on Monday evening of last week.
    Mrs. Duniway lectured in the Presbyterian Church Wednesday evening to a good audience. Her subject was woman suffrage, and it was handled in her usual forcible and effective style.
"Brevities," Ashland Tidings, September 30, 1881, page 3


    (This correspondence should have been published last week, but failed to arrive in time.)
TO THE READERS OF THE NEW NORTHWEST:
    The sad news that the great calamity which for eighty days had brooded over the entire world with its wings of sadness had at last culminated in the death of the nation's patient has paralyzed business for the week, even in this remote part of the great domain over which James A. Garfield had been called to preside as its Chief Magistrate. The news reached Jacksonville at 8 a.m. on Tuesday, the 20th instant. All business was at once suspended. Stores, hotels and dwellings were festooned in mourning, and preparations for the final obsequies occupied everybody's time and thoughts.
    The undersigned had lectured on the previous evening, in presence of a large and respectful auditory, and had afterward been the recipient of a band serenade, which made a universal sensation until superseded by the startling, though not unexpected, announcement that the nation was in mourning.
    The city council called a meeting on Tuesday evening, and elected a committee of arrangements for the purpose of observing the obsequies on a large scale on the forthcoming funeral day. The women of Jacksonville then decided to hold a memorial service, or women's condolence meeting, which convened on Wednesday evening in Holt's Hall, and was largely attended by the very best people. Mrs. N. A. Dowell, wife of Judge B. F. Dowell, founder of the Jacksonville Sentinel, presided at the meeting, and made the opening address. This lady frequently distinguished herself during her husband's absences from home while the Sentinel was in possession, by conducting that journal with the vigor and ability of an editor to the manor born. The paper was Republican in politics, and she is said to have proved herself able to "out-Herod Herod" in waging an aggressive campaign against the Democratic hosts that menaced her. Partisan strife is happily slumbering now, and Democrats and Republicans pass good-natured jokes at each others' expense over their former differences, and the result is harmony.
    Of the committee of ladies who managed the women's condolence meeting, and to whom, with Mrs. Dowell's aid as presiding officer, its success was attributable, are Mrs. J. McCully, Mrs. W. J. Plymale, Mrs. E. Kenney, Miss A. Rose, Mrs. Kubli, Auntie Ganung (a venerable lady in gray hair and snowy cap border whose years and grace rendered her conspicuous among the younger occupants of the platform), Mrs. J. A. Cardwell and daughters, Madame Holt, and many others whose names we cannot now recall. Though unaccustomed to presiding over public assemblies, Mrs. Dowell proved equal to the occasion in every particular. Her address was characterized by appropriateness, feeling, and faultless diction, and would have reflected credit upon any famous woman of the East. Rev. B. J. Sharp, pastor of the M.E. church, officiated as chaplain, and the excellent brass band of Jacksonville, of which Professor Smith is an able and obliging leader, favored the meeting with funeral music, as sweet and sad as it was welcome and appropriate. The following resolutions, read by Miss Isa McCully, were unanimously adopted:
    WHEREAS, In times of a common calamity, women, equally with men, are interested in giving expression to the grief that on an occasion like the present involuntarily wells up from every overburdened heart; therefore,
    Resolved, That we, ladies of Jacksonville, though far removed from the funeral pageant that guards the body of our nation's dead, have hearts that beat in unison with the nation's woe, and our sighs are wafted from the land of the setting sun to the far-off shores of the Atlantic seas, where they mingle with the sobs of the millions of other mourners whose bereavement brings us together in the wail of a common lamentation, cementing us anew in one great family that knows no North or South or East or West or black or white or male or female, bond or free.
    WHEREAS, President James A. Garfield, the honored head of this mighty nation, has been stricken down by the red hand of an assassin whose name and character inspire every mother's heart with shuddering and horror; therefore,
    Resolved, That we will teach our sons to speak the cowardly murderer's name with contempt and loathing and our daughters to contemplate his memory with scorn and disgust.
    Resolved, That our hearts have throbbed in pitying unison with the conjugal woes of the faithful wife of our martyred President during the long period of public suspense that has at last ended in the universal calamity that we have convened to mourn.
    Resolved, That we tender our sincerest condolence to the bereaved widow of the nation's honored dead, and point her with trembling fingers toward the Better Land, where murderers cannot enter, and where she may one day join her loving husband in a blest reunion that no assassin's bullet can destroy.
    Resolved, That we remember with emulation the spirit of heroism that prompted the estimable mother of our martyred President to protect him and her three other helpless children through the long years of her lonely widowhood, bringing them up in the ways of usefulness by her own perseverance, and leading her illustrious son to fame through her own intelligent faithfulness.
    Resolved, That we tender sympathy and condolence to the President's venerable mother. May the Angel of Mercy speak peace to her anguish-stricken heart and the Angels of Love and Hope lead her safely on through the remainder of her journey toward her nearby haven of eternal rest.
    Resolved, That a copy of these resolutions be forwarded to the wife and the mother of our martyred President.
    Your correspondent was then accorded an hour's hearing, of which we can only say that it came from the heart, and was received by the large assembly in a manner thoroughly satisfactory to ourself and friends. A funeral dirge concluded the exercises; and all retired to their homes profoundly impressed by the national calamity that has draped the world in mourning.
    Our own physical indisposition, added to the suspension of business and general grief attendant upon the death of the President, has hindered us much in the discharge of usual duties and retarded the dispatch of regular business, and we are obliged to leave Jacksonville for the present without having taken note of its different enterprises, as we hope to do on our return.
    Thursday, the 22nd, and we take the stage for Ashland. Our fellow passenger is Rev. Mr. Chapman, pastor of the M.E. church in Corvallis, in whom we are pleased to find a progressive thinker and courteous gentleman, awake to the intellectual demands of the age, and of course a consistent Christian. It was mainly through the efforts of this gentleman in securing subscriptions that the Ashland Academy became the property of the Conference and is now in a flourishing condition.
    We reached Ashland after a three hours' ride, and took refuge in Houck's well-kept hotel, where Mrs. Houck, one of the most amiable of landladies, made us welcome by her cozy fireside. On the morrow we repaired to the hospitable home of Mr. and Mrs. J. Thompson, where we were taken in charge by the good wife, who proceeded at once to administer hygienic remedies with such success that when Saturday dawned we were able to assist the bright young girls of the beautiful town in draping the Presbyterian church for a women's memorial service, which was held in the evening in the presence of a very large congregation. Mrs. J. McCall, wife of one of Ashland's leading merchants, presided at this meeting, and though, like Mrs. Dowell, she was wholly unused to taking such positions, her manner was that of a veteran in the service. Her address, though brief, was logical, telling, feeling, and appropriate, and many eyes were bathed in tears as she depicted, in beautiful and impressive language, the sorrowful scenes in the sick chamber, the deathbed agonies of the assassinated President, and the heart-rending emotions of the faithful wife and aged mother of the nation's illustrious dead. Mr. Fraley officiated as chaplain, and a well-trained choir, under the supervision of Mr. Willits and Miss Scott, discoursed appropriate music, Miss Wagner presided at the organ. Resolutions of condolence, analogous to those offered by the ladies of Jacksonville, were read by Miss Kate Thornton and unanimously adopted, after which came an hour's talk by the undersigned, which was received amidst the profoundest and most impressive silence. The choir sang "America," Rev. Mr. Royal pronounced the benediction, and the great congregation dispersed to their homes, while we repaired to our room at the hotel to write this letter and wrestle unsuccessfully with the fickle tyrant, sleep.
New Northwest, Portland, October 6, 1881, page 1




TO THE READERS OF THE NEW NORTHWEST:
    The autumn air was crisp and invigorating as at 8 a.m. on the morning of the 4th inst. your correspondent climbed to the boot on the great lumbering stage, and, bidding her Phoenix friends goodbye, set face once more toward Jacksonville,
    Recent frosts had bitten the luxuriant vegetation that everywhere abounded, and successive days of sunshine had colored the dying leaves afar and near with deeper shades of amber, ruby, gold, crimson and scarlet than those that had met our delighted gaze in the Willamette Valley three weeks before. There had been rain enough to conquer the dust, and the face of nature was cleanly washed and rouged and radiant.
    The ride of seven miles behind a spirited six-in-hand was a delightful one. Giddings, the driver, was an Ashland man, and as courteous and genteel as other gentlemen in that famous town. Beside us sat a Californian, formerly a resident of this valley, who has lost none of his old-time appreciation of its inspiring scenery, auriferous rocks and productive soil through years of absence. Like the driver, he was a staunch Woman Suffragist, and gave so many cogent reasons for his belief that it was not necessary for us to talk at all. But no one need imagine that we refrained from talking, for women seldom do.
    It is estimated that the equal rights movement is growing so rapidly in this part of the country that five hundred more votes could be obtained in its favor now than could have been secured a month since. All the sensible women, many of the leading men and a large majority of the young folks are its outspoken advocates.
    But here we are at Jacksonville, amid a host of friends. Preparations for the marriage of Charley Nickell, of the Times, and Miss Ella Prim, of her mother's millinery store, are going grandly on, and everybody is busy. There is to be one  vacant evening, however, before the great event, and our friends decide that we must give another lecture before departing for Portland. So the announcement is made for Tuesday evening, and we occupy the intermediate time in receiving and returning calls, packing wardrobe, writing letters, and taking mental note of all that is going on.
    The moat gratifying feature of the success of the woman movement is noticeable in the work women are doing to render themselves financially independent of the protecting sex. Mrs. Evan Reames and Miss A. Ross, estimable daughters of General Ross, who is a well-known Woman Suffragist, and of course has sensible children, are engaged in keeping a handsome ladies' bazaar next door to the United States Hotel, which is also kept by a woman. Mrs. Howard, Mrs. Karewski, Mrs. Cardwell and Mrs. Ryan are also engaged in trade, and are making their business successful. The New State Hotel, kept by Mrs. Savage, has been lately reopened; and Miss Addie Klippel, a young lady of fine attainments, is assistant County Clerk in her father's office. While all women in business may not know that their opportunity to engage in lucrative and honorable employment is the result, more or less directly, of the movement for woman's enfranchisement during the past decade, it is very certain that the wisest of them are awakening to the fact and becoming quite brave in proclaiming it.
    Foremost among the praiseworthy institutions of Jacksonville is the district school, of which Professor Merritt is principal and Mr. Hubbell and Miss Godfrey assistants. Accompanied by our ever-ready and capable friend, Mrs. Plymale, we made this school a visit on Monday, and we confess surprise that so good a public school, one so perfect in order, grading and general management, and withal so largely attended, should be found in a district so remote from rivers, seas and railroads. Professor Merritt inspires his school with the utmost confidence in his ability and integrity. The other teachers naturally catch the power to do likewise, and the pupils obey for the love of doing right and to please others rather than from fear of compulsion, or the prospect of personal reward. To this school more than all else may be attributed the moral and mental growth among the youth of Jacksonville, by whom we have been treated this time during our entire visit with the utmost courtesy and respect. Their example has also been communicated to older men, not one of whom has offered us any sort of indignity on the streets or elsewhere. We hear of the vicious sayings of certain wire-toothed protectors of our sex, and of other underhand but unsuccessful machinations to prevent the people from attending the lectures; but it's all right. No harm has been done, and it would be expecting more than human nature can bear to look for their quiet acquiescence in the present triumph of our cause without a growl or grimace, when it is impossible for them to forget their shameful conduct two years ago.
    The self-styled "representative men" of this place consist in great part of an associated ring of genuine Democrats and pseudo-Republicans, who ostensibly differ in politics but are really a unit in political purpose, each being afraid of the other, but all clinging together in times of a common danger, whether of real or imaginary existence, without the least regard to principle or personal opinion. But this ring, already small, is constantly growing smaller and weaker. It cannot run the town as it once did. and its best members are as restive as they dare to be under the collar they once wore with contentment. New Jacksonville; with its healthy young blood, its well-trained boys and girls and its many citizens who will wear nobody's collar, is stepping firmly to the front and rapidly redeeming Old Jacksonville from its former unenviable notoriety. The men who figured in the former riot still muzzle the press to a great extent, but their fangs have been extracted, and nothing remains to comfort them but the memory of their bygone glory, which was as evanescent as unsatisfying.
    The little boys called upon us sometimes in companies of a dozen or more, and conducted themselves like perfect gentlemen during their visits. The little girls and young ladies also called in groups, inspiring us to new endeavor by their brilliant chat and earnest enthusiasm.
    The farewell lecture brought out a crowded house. Prominent among the multitude were the elder members of Professor Merritt's school, who by special invitation occupied front seats and accorded the entire proceedings the most deferent attention.
    At the close of the lecture, a committee of ladies, consisting of Mesdames Plymale, Kenney, Cardwell, Dowell and Holt, invited about fifty of the ladies and gentlemen who had treated our mission with respect and ourself with special courtesy, to attend a social reception.in Madame Holt's public parlor. After an hour spent in hand-shaking; social conversation, merriment, and singing, the dining room doors were opened and the company sat down to a handsome collation, given by the above-named ladies, as they explained, "In honor of the Jacksonville brass band, Woman Suffrage and Mrs. Duniway." Among those present were Messrs. Smith and Smith, Walters, Hanna, Eggert, Luy and Plymale, of the band; Hon. R. Williams, of Portland; Superintendent and Mrs. Cronemiller, of the Fort Klamath Indian Agency; and the following ladies and gentlemen of Jacksonville: Mrs. Dr. Kahler, Mrs. Bilger, Mrs. Howser, Mrs. Karewski, Miss Issie McCully, Miss Minnie Ruggles, Miss Dora Godfrey, Miss Laura Hubbell, Miss Anna Dowell, Miss Annie Bilger, Miss Celia Levy; the Misses Sallie, Della, Rosie and Laura Cardwell; Mrs. Ulrich, Miss Lillie Ulrich, the Misses Fannie and Katie Plymale, Miss Celia Karewski, Miss Dora Elliott, Mrs. D. Cardwell, Miss Anna Dowell, Mrs. Thomas Kenney, Professor Kugler, Mr. J. A. Cardwell, Mr. D. Cardwell, Professor Andrew Hubbell, and others.
    We were much impressed during this reception with the importance of thoroughly cultivating the social element in connection with the suffrage movement. Thomas A. Benton confesses in his great work, entitled "Thirty Years in the United States Senate,'' that it was the social power of women that elected General Harrison in 1840 and changed the current of American politics forever after. Let all the young ladies who read this resolve at once that they will make the movement socially popular among their gentlemen friends, every one of whom is a voter.
    After the reception was over, we fell asleep at a late hour and dreamed that all the girls in Oregon were holding Women Suffrage levees and all the men were acquiescent and happy.
    The following forenoon found us aboard the stage, homeward bound, our traveling companions a couple of commercial travelers and the Rev. Mr. [W. T.] Chapman, of whom we made favorable mention last week, and who, as we afterwards learned, in now Presiding Elder of the Southern Oregon District, and his present mission is holding quarterly meetings. But he moped, and pouted, and pretended to be reading a novel, and wouldn't speak except as we'd compel him by a direct question that he couldn't help answering, conducting himself so moodily withal that it was a genuine relief to everyone when we reached Grant's Pass and dropped him.
    "Who is he, anyway?" asked one.
    "A Methodist preacher," we answered, quietly.
    "Well, well. I'd never shoot him for a preacher, if I was hunting preachers for game," said the other.
    "Reading Middlemarch and serving the Lord!" exclaimed the first. "Wonder if he reads novels for their sentiment or their style."
    "He couldn't read at all, for the motion of the stage wouldn't let him," still the other. "He only pretended to read to keep from speaking to Mrs. Duniway."
    "Why, gentlemen," we replied, "I like him, and he can't help it! I wrote him up for last week's paper--splendid!"
    "I heard him tell the stage agent to put him outside if you rode inside, and vice versa," was the ingenuous reply.
    "He needn't feel alarmed. I wouldn't hurt him; though I have been called a terror to evil-doers several times that I remember. Wonder what ails him?"
    "He said, back at the last station when we stopped to change horses, that he didn't like you because you had once accused him of locking a hall or church against you when he was two hundred miles away."
    The mystery was explained. We let the matter rest and rode on, repenting deeply that we had imposed on the public by speaking well of a man in print whom we had afterward weighed in the balance and found wanting.
    The stage did not halt long enough to give the passengers dinner till six p.m. Then we stopped at Leland at the well-kept wayside inn of Mrs. Carll, whose husband is division agent on the route, and who keeps up her half of life's endeavor to make a living in a royal way. We hope her husband, whom we did not meet, believes in equal rights.
    Oh, how long the hours were after dinner, and how the miles did stretch away toward infinitude! The jolting grew intolerable. A couple of drummers had the outside seat, and neither would exchange to give us a little rest. Nine o'clock, and Levens' station. Here we stopped over for twenty-four hours, from sheer inability to go further. A racking headache banished sleep, and bruised bones banished rest. The next day was spent in dreamy solitude beside a generous fire. The only thing we did was a little writing, and among the little was the following letter to Presiding Elder Chapman:
    Sir:--The surprise--not to say indignation--with which I have regarded your conduct toward me on every occasion since our first pleasant meeting (of which a handsome record to your credit is in print in this week's issue of the NEW NORTHWEST) was melted into pity when, after you left the stage yesterday, I learned its imaginary cause. Would it not be well for a minister of the Gospel of Jesus lo ascertain from "headquarters" whether or net there to truth in idle gossip before he publicly traduces his lady friend to a stage agent because of it, and purposely mopes in her presence prevent explanation, and peddles his imaginary grievance behind her back in symmetrical travelers? Whoever told you that fever mentioned your name in print until this week's issue lied. I never met you until the day we went to Ashland, and do not think I ever heard of you till then. I am sorry to be compelled to beg pardon of the public in my next editorial letter for having called you a gentleman in my last one.
    For further particulars, please see NEW NORTHWEST of this week and next. Yours for truth and justice,
    Nine p.m., and stage time again. We are not able to ride, but must hurry on. The obliging landlord attempts to secure us the outside seat; but it is doggedly held by two voters, neither of whom will give way, although we politely assure them that if they were sick and we well, we'd gladly do anything in our power for their comfort. They do not even grunt a4 reply, and we climb inside, cheered by the courageous remark of the landlord, who exclaims, indignantly, "You can't help it, madam, if some men are born hogs, with bristles on their backs."
    Our preacher is again aboard; but it is our turn to be silent now, which is easy enough, for we know he'll get our letter at Canyonville; and may it do him good during the remainder of his days, which we hope will be long in the land where he labors as a missionary of the gospel of charity that "thinketh no evil."
    We close our eyes and ponder long over the beautiful valley of the Rogue River that is left far behind us. We anticipate the approaching era of railroads with satisfaction, and respectfully decline to incommode the "protectors of women'' when one of them gets ashamed of his selfishness and offers to exchange and favor us with the outside seat.
    Midnight, and Canyonville. There is a sick woman in the stage, and we forget our own weariness in the futile endeavor to make her comfortable. The preacher leaves the stage at this place, and we two are alone till daybreak.
    Now we approach Roseburg. The full-orbed moon, that has proudly rode the arching heavens through the entire night, grew deathly pale, and the morning star glides proudly up the blue horizon and hangs like an electric lamp above the undulating hills. The driver cracks his whip with a grand flourish, the jaded horses quicken their pace, the voters on the outside seat shiver with the cold, and with a combined rattle, crash and rumble, we dash up to the post office and alight at the terminus. Thank Heaven!
    Roseburg is taking its morning nap, all heedless of the resplendent glories of exultant nature that abound on every hand. We shiver for hall an hour beside the bar-room stove, and creep away to bed just as the sun gets up and stirs abroad in his trappings of gold upon his chariot of fire.
    We sleep for three hours, and then descend to breakfast, after which the remaining day is spent with Mrs. Owens in visiting at her pleasant home and calling upon other genial friends, of whom we recall the names of Mesdames Jones, Hoover, Perkins, Carroll, Engle, Frazer, Gilliland, Stevens, Owens Sr., Jones Jr., and Messrs, Abraham, Owens, Engle, Stevens, Marks and Kelly, all of whom are advocates of equal rights, and of course good allies of the undersigned. Sorry we cannot remain in Roseburg for a week or two. Everybody is on the qui vive for lectures, and all have been expecting us to stop over. But we're too tired for field work now, and the Suffrage Convention is so near at hand that we cannot tarry. So, at 5 a.m. we are off again, our destination Portland-on-the-Willamette and home.
    P.S.--We don't often add a postscript, but will just once, for the reason that we forgot to mention at the proper time a fact that ought to have an airing. Mr. L. Samuels, of the West Shore, was out in Southern Oregon a few weeks ago, and while canvassing for his publication, remarked to one of our patrons, who incidentally mentioned two Portland papers he was taking, that the NEW NORTHWEST was "a sweet-scented paper, truly, to have in a family!" Whereupon our subscriber, who is a gentleman of intelligence and honor, demanded his reason for such an assertion, and Mr, Samuels failed to specify further than to complain that we had once written up an insulting Brigadier General of militia, and had called a persecuted woman chaste, and had thereby wronged her husband! This same Samuels slandered the NEW NORTHWEST at Phoenix in presence of one of its lady subscribers, and was roundly rebuked therefor. Last spring a lady told me at another town that this high-toned journalist had recommended his paper at her house, and when she, thinking he meant the NEW NORTHWEST, remarked that she "had often thought of taking Mrs. Duniway's paper," he proclaimed the West Shore as such to induce her to subscribe for it. If this be legitimate journalistic business, may we be spared from entering its purely odorless field forevermore! Amen!    A.S.D.
    Portland, October 11, 1881.


    Mrs. Abigail Scott Duniway, editor of the New Northwest, was in Jacksonville several days this week. She lectured at Holt's hall to a large audience on Wednesday evening. She is also taking orders for the famous picture "The Coronation of Womanhood," which contain in its unique design splendid lithograph portraits of many of Oregon's most distinguished men who voted for the Woman Suffrage Amendment. She lectured at Phoenix last night, and will also lecture at Medford tomorrow (Sunday) night.
"Local Items," Oregon Sentinel, Jacksonville, June 27, 1885, page 3


    Mrs. A. S. Duniway delivered the oration at Josephine on the Fourth.
"News of the Northwest," Oregonian, Portland, July 12, 1887, page 6