But I found police duty rather irksome， especially when called out dark nights to prevent drunken fathers from disturbing their sleeping children， or to minister to poor mothers in the pangs of maternity. Alas！ alas！ who can measure the mountains of sorrow and suffering endured in unwelcome motherhood in the abodes of ignorance， poverty， and vice， where terror-stricken women and children are the victims of strong men frenzied with passion and intoxicating drink？
Up to this time life had glided by with comparative ease， but now the real struggle was upon me. My duties were too numerous and varied， and none sufficiently exhilarating or intellectual to bring into play my higher faculties. I suffered with mental hunger， which， like an empty stomach， is very depressing. I had books， but no stimulating companionship. To add to my general dissatisfaction at the change from Boston， I found that Seneca Falls was a malarial region， and in due time all the children were attacked with chills and fever which， under homeopathic treatment in those days， lasted three months. The servants were afflicted in the same way. Cleanliness， order， the love of the beautiful and artistic， all faded away in the struggle to accomplish what was absolutely necessary from hour to hour. Now I understood， as I never had before， how women could sit down and rest in the midst of general disorder. Housekeeping， under such conditions， was impossible， so I packed our clothes， locked up the house， and went to that harbor of safety， home， as I did ever after in stress of weather.
I now fully understood the practical difficulties most women had to contend with in the isolated household， and the impossibility of woman's best development if in contact， the chief part of her life， with servants and children. Fourier's phalansterie community life and co-operative households had a new significance for me. Emerson says， "A healthy discontent is the first step to progress." The general discontent I felt with woman's portion as wife， mother， housekeeper， physician， and spiritual guide， the chaotic conditions into which everything fell without her constant supervision， and the wearied， anxious look of the majority of women impressed me with a strong feeling that some active measures should be taken to remedy the wrongs of society in general， and of women in particular. My experience at the World's Anti-slavery Convention， all I had read of the legal status of women， and the oppression I saw everywhere， together swept across my soul， intensified now by many personal experiences. It seemed as if all the elements had conspired to impel me to some onward step. I could not see what to do or where to begin杕y only thought was a public meeting for protest and discussion.
In this tempest-tossed condition of mind I received an invitation to spend the day with Lucretia Mott， at Richard Hunt's， in Waterloo. There I met several members of different families of Friends， earnest， thoughtful women. I poured out， that day， the torrent of my long-accumulating discontent， with such vehemence and indignation that I stirred myself， as well as the rest of the party， to do and dare anything. My discontent， according to Emerson， must have been healthy， for it moved us all to prompt action， and we decided， then and there， to call a "Woman's Rights Convention."
We wrote the call that evening and published it in the Seneca County Courier the next day， the 14th of July， 1848， giving only five days' notice， as the convention was to be held on the 19th and 20th. The call was inserted without signatures，杋n fact it was a mere announcement of a meeting，朾ut the chief movers and managers were Lucretia Mott， Mary Ann McClintock， Jane Hunt， Martha C. Wright， and myself. The convention， which was held two days in the Methodist Church， was in every way a grand success.
The house was crowded at every session， the speaking good， and a religious earnestness dignified all the proceedings.
These were the hasty initiative steps of "the most momentous reform that had yet been launched on the world杢he first organized protest against the injustice which had brooded for ages over the character and destiny of one-half the race." No words could express our astonishment on finding， a few days afterward， that what seemed to us so timely， so rational， and so sacred， should be a subject for sarca** and ridicule to the entire press of the nation. With our Declaration of Rights and Resolutions for a text， it seemed as if every man who could wield a pen prepared a homily on "woman's sphere." All the journals from Maine to Texas seemed to strive with each other to see which could make our movement appear the most ridiculous.
The anti-slavery papers stood by us manfully and so did Frederick Douglass， both in the convention and in his paper， The North Star， but so pronounced was the popular voice against us， in the parlor， press， and pulpit， that most of the ladies who had attended the convention and signed the declaration， one by one， withdrew their names and influence and joined our persecutors. Our friends gave us the cold shoulder and felt themselves disgraced by the whole proceeding.
If I had had the slightest premonition of all that was to follow that convention， I fear I should not have had the courage to risk it， and I must confess that it was with fear and trembling that I consented to attend another， one month afterward， in Rochester. Fortunately， the first one seemed to have drawn all the fire， and of the second but little was said.
But we had set the ball in motion， and now， in quick succession， conventions were held in Ohio， Indiana， Massachusetts， Pennsylvania， and in the City of New York， and have been kept up nearly every year since.
The most noteworthy of the early conventions were those held in Massachusetts， in which such men as Garrison， Phillips， Channing， Parker， and Emerson took part. It was one of these that first attracted the attention of Mrs.
