emembering my former Western experience with measles and
whooping-cough, I realized that mumps and chicken-pox were still
likely to attack me, but the invitation was too tempting, and it was
gladly accepted, and I went to Cincinnati in the fall of 1884.

Mrs. Bartholomew I found a charming woman and a most cordial friend.
Every day of three months spent in Cincinnati was full of happiness.
Mrs. Broadwell, a decided leader in the best social matters, as well
as in all public spirited enterprises, I had known years before in
Hanover, N.H. Her brother, General William Haines Lytle, had been
slain at Chickamauga during the Civil War, just in the full strength
and glory of manhood. He wrote that striking poem, beginning: "I am
dying, Egypt, dying." Here are two verses of his one poem:

As for thee, star-eyed Egyptian!
Glorious sorceress of the Nile,
Light the path to Stygian horrors
With the splendors of thy smile.
Give the Caesar crowns and arches,
Let his brow the laurel twine;
I can scorn the Senate's triumphs,
Triumphing in love like thine.

I am dying, Egypt, dying;
Hark! the insulting foeman's cry,
They are coming! quick, my falchion!
Let me front them ere I die.
Ah! no more amid the battle
Shall my heart exulting swell--
Isis and Osiris guard thee!
Cleopatra, Rome, farewell!

He was engaged to Miss Sarah Doremus, a sister of Professor Doremus of
New York. After the terrible shock of his sudden death she never
married, but devoted her life to carrying out her sainted mother's
missionary projects, once taking a trip alone around the world to
visit the missionary stations started by her mother.

As soon as I had arrived at Mr. Bartholomew's, Mrs. Broadwell gave me
a dinner. Six unmarried ladies and seven well-known bachelors were the
guests, as she wished to give me just what I needed, an endorsement
among her own friends. The result was instant and potent.

Everyone at that dinner did something afterwards to entertain me. I
was often invited to the opera, always had a box (long-stemmed roses
for all the ladies), also to dinner and lunches. If anyone in the city
had anything in the way of a rare collection, from old engravings to
rare old books, an evening was devoted to showing the collection to me
with other friends. One lady, Miss Mar