Sitting in the summerhouse, one day, I witnessed a most amusing scene.  Two of the boys, in search of employment, broke up a hornets’ nest.  Bruno, our large Saint Bernard dog, seeing them jumping about, thought he would join in the fun.  The boys tried to drive him away, knowing that the hornets would get in his long hair, but Bruno’s curiosity outran his caution and he plunged into the midst of the swarm and was soon completely covered.  The buzzing and stinging soon sent the poor dog howling on the run.  He rushed as usual, in his distress, to Amelia in the kitchen, where she and the girls were making preserves and ironing.  When they saw the hornets, they dropped irons, spoons, jars, everything, and rushed out of doors screaming.  I appreciated the danger in time to get safely into the house before Bruno came to me for aid and comfort.  At last they played the hose on him until he found some relief; the maidens, armed with towels, thrashed right and left, and the boys, with evergreen branches, fought bravely.  I had often heard of “stirring up a hornets’ nest,” but I had never before seen a practical demonstration of its danger.  For days after, if Bruno heard anything buzz, he would rush for the house at the top of his speed.  But in spite of these occasional lively episodes, vol.  III. went steadily on.

My suffrage sons and daughters through all the Northern and Western States decided to celebrate, on the 12th of November, 1885, my seventieth birthday, by holding meetings or sending me gifts and congratulations.  This honor was suggested by Mrs. Elizabeth Boynton Harbert in The New Era, a paper she was editing at that time.  The suggestion met with a ready response.  I was invited to deliver an essay on “The Pleasures of Age,” before the suffrage association in New York city.  It took me a week to think them up, but with the inspiration of Longfellow’s “Morituri Salutamus,” I was almost converted to the idea that “we old folks” had the best of it.

The day was ushered in with telegrams, letters, and express packages, which continued to arrive during the week.  From England, France, and Germany came cablegrams, presents, and letters of congratulation, and from all quarters came books, pictures, silver, bronzes, California blankets, and baskets of fruits and flowers.  The eulogies in prose and verse were so hearty and numerous that the ridicule and criticism of forty years were buried so deep that I shall remember them no more.  There is no class who enjoy the praise of their fellow-men like those who have had only blame most of their lives.  The evening of the 12th we had a delightful reunion at the home of Dr. Clemence Lozier, where I gave my essay, after which Mrs. Lozier, Mrs. Blake, Miss Anthony, “Jenny June,” and some of the younger converts to our platform, all made short speeches of praise and congratulation, which were followed by music, recitations, and refreshments.

All during the autumn Miss Anthony and I looked forward to the spring, when we hoped to have completed the third and last volume of our History, and thus end the labors of ten years.  We had neither time nor eyesight to read aught but the imperative documents for the History.  I was hungering for some other mental pabulum.