iliar with parliamentary rules. The evening
ended with music, dancing, and a general chat. In this way we read and
thought over a wide range of subjects and brought together the best
minds in the community. Many young men and women who did not belong to
what was considered the first circle,--for in every little country
village there is always a small clique that constitutes the
aristocracy,--had the advantages of a social life otherwise denied them.
I think that all who took part in this Conversation Club would testify
to its many good influences.

I had three quite intimate young friends in the village who spent much
of their spare time with me, and who added much to my happiness: Frances
Hoskins, who was principal of the girls' department in the academy, with
whom I discussed politics and religion; Mary Bascom, a good talker on
the topics of the day, and Mary Crowninshield, who played well on the
piano. As I was very fond of music, Mary's coming was always hailed with
delight. Her mother, too, was a dear friend of mine, a woman of rare
intelligence, refinement, and conversational talent. She was a Schuyler,
and belonged to the Dutch aristocracy in Albany. She died suddenly,
after a short illness. I was with her in the last hours and held her
hand until the gradually fading spark of life went out. Her son is
Captain A.S. Crowninshield of our Navy.

My nearest neighbors were a very agreeable, intelligent family of sons
and daughters. But I always felt that the men of that household were
given to domineering. As the mother was very amiable and
self-sacrificing, the daughters found it difficult to rebel. One summer,
after general house-cleaning, when fresh paint and paper had made even
the kitchen look too dainty for the summer invasion of flies, the queens
of the household decided to move the sombre cook-stove into a spacious
woodhouse, where it maintained its dignity one week, in the absence of
the head of the home. The mother and daughters were delighted with the
change, and wondered why they had not made it before during the summer
months. But their pleasure was shortlived. Father and sons rose early
the first morning after his return and moved the stove back to its old
place. When the wife and daughters came down to get their breakfast (for
they did all their own work) they were filled with grief and
disappointment. The breakfast was eaten in silence, the women humbled
with a sense of their helplessness, and the men