o where I liked and take what
I wanted. I sent a pair of handsome slippers at Christmas to the man
who had been my special servitor. He wrote me how he admired them and
wished he could wear them, but alas! his feet had both been worn to a
stub long ago from such continuous running and climbing to satisfy my
seldom-satisfied needs. He added that several of the errand boys had
become permanently crippled from over-exertion. I then understood why
he had married a famous woman doctor. It is hard to get the books
asked for in very large libraries. Once I was replying to an attack on
Miss Elizabeth Stuart Phelps's style by Miss Dodge, well known under
the pen name Gail Hamilton, and I gave this order: "Complete works of
Miss Abigail Dodge--and please hurry." After intolerable waiting, two
boys appeared looking very weary, bearing the many sermons and heavy
memoirs of the Reverend Narcissus Dodge.

In my special class at home I begged my friends to ask questions in an
off-hand way, and to comment upon my opinions. That was stimulating to
all. One morning my theme was "Genius and Talent." I said Genius was
something beyond--outside of--ourselves, which achieved great results
with small exertion. Not by any means was it a bit of shoemakers'
wax in the seat of one's chair (as Anthony Trollope put it). Talent
must work hard and constantly for development. I said: "Genius
is inspiration; Talent is perspiration." I had never heard that
definition and thought it was mine. Of late it has been widely quoted,
but with no acknowledgment, so I still think it is mine. Are there any
other claimants--and prior to 1880?

There were many questions and decided differences of opinion. At last
one lady said: "Please give us examples of men who possess genius
rather than talent." As she spoke, the door opened, and in walked
Mrs. Edmund Clarence Stedman, wife of the poet, and with her a most
distinguished-looking woman, Mrs. William Whitney. I was a little
embarrassed, but replied sweetly, "Sheets and Kelley," meaning "Keats
and Shelley." Then followed a wild laugh in which I joined.

Dr. John Lord once told me he had a similar shock. He spoke of
"Westford and Oxminster," instead of "Oxford and Westminster," and
never again could he get it correctly, try as he would. Neither his
twist nor mine was quite as bad as that of the speaker who said: "I
feel within me a half-warmed fish; I mean a half-formed wish."

All genius [continued Lady Henr