ble young mind, led me first
into the ministry, next into medicine, and finally into suffrage-work.
Living next door to us, on Prospect Hill, was a beautiful and mysterious
woman. All we children knew of her was that she was a vivid and romantic
figure, who seemed to have no friends and of whom our elders spoke in
whispers or not at all. To me she was a princess in a fairy-tale, for
she rode a white horse and wore a blue velvet riding-habit with a blue
velvet hat and a picturesquely drooping white plume. I soon learned at
what hours she went forth to ride, and I used to hover around our gate
for the joy of seeing her mount and gallop away. I realized that there
was something unusual about her house, and I had an idea that the prince
was waiting for her somewhere in the far distance, and that for the time
at least she had escaped the ogre in the castle she left behind. I was
wrong about the prince, but right about the ogre. It was only when my
unhappy lady left her castle that she was free.

Very soon she noticed me. Possibly she saw the adoration in my childish
eyes. She began to nod and smile at me, and then to speak to me, but at
first I was almost afraid to answer her. There were stories now among
the children that the house was haunted, and that by night a ghost
walked there and in the grounds. I felt an extraordinary interest in
the ghost, and I spent hours peering through our picket fence, trying
to catch a glimpse of it; but I hesitated to be on terms of neighborly
intimacy with one who dwelt with ghosts.

One day the mysterious lady bent and kissed me. Then, straightening up,
she looked at me queerly and said: "Go and tell your mother I did that."
There was something very compelling in her manner. I knew at once that I
must tell my mother what she had done, and I ran into our house and did
so. While my mother was considering the problem the situation presented,
for she knew the character of the house next door, a note was handed in
to her--a very pathetic little note from my mysterious lady, asking my
mother to let me come and see her. Long afterward mother showed it to
me. It ended with the words: "She will see no one but me. No harm shall
come to her. Trust me."

That night my parents talked the matter over and decided to let me go.
Probably they felt that the slave next door was as much to be pitied as
the escaped-negro slaves they so often harbored in our home. I made my
visit, which was the first of many,