with the
Indians they acquired immense tracts of land in the Northern part of the
State of New York, which were the nucleus of their large fortunes. I
have often heard Cousin Gerrit complain of the time he lost managing the
estate. His son Greene was an enthusiast in the natural sciences and
took but little interest in property matters. Later, his grandson,
Gerrit Smith Miller, assumed the burden of managing the estate and, in
addition, devoted himself to agriculture. He imported a fine breed of
Holstein cattle, which have taken the first prize at several fairs. His
son, bearing the same name, is devoted to the natural sciences, like his
uncle Greene; whose fine collection of birds was presented by his widow
to Harvard College.

The only daughter of Gerrit Smith, Elizabeth Smith Miller, is a
remarkable woman, possessing many of the traits of her noble father. She
has rare executive ability, as shown in the dispatch of her extensive
correspondence and in the perfect order of her house and grounds. She
has done much in the way of education, especially for the colored race,
in helping to establish schools and in distributing literature. She
subscribes for many of the best books, periodicals, and papers for
friends not able to purchase for themselves. We cannot estimate the good
she has done in this way. Every mail brings her letters from all
classes, from charitable institutions, prisons, Southern plantations,
army posts, and the far-off prairies. To all these pleas for help she
gives a listening ear. Her charities are varied and boundless, and her
hospitalities to the poor as well as the rich, courteous and generous.
The refinement and artistic taste of the Southern mother and the heroic
virtues of the father are happily blended in their daughter. In her
beautiful home on Seneca Lake, one is always sure to meet some of the
most charming representatives of the progressive thought of our times.
Representatives of all these generations now rest in the cemetery at
Peterboro, and as in review they passed before me they seemed to say,
"Why linger you here alone so long?"

My son Theodore arrived from Paris in September, 1895, and rendered most
important service during the preparations for my birthday celebration,
in answering letters, talking with reporters, and making valuable
suggestions to the managers as to many details in the arrangements, and
encouraging me to go through the ordeal with my usual heroism. I never
felt so