clubdom; and will be a John the Baptist for you
if you should go over next summer. He wants some photographs, yours
particularly; which please send. He left his card with address of
_Recorder_ in Fleet Street, which I omitted to take up-stairs at the
moment, and afterwards it could not be found. I am hoping that you
have it and will give it to me, or that Mr. Griffin perhaps knows it.
If you can drop in on Monday, A.M., I should be glad to ask you in
regard to some members--what to say of them, etc. Would Mrs. Clarence
Burns allow her picture to be used, and have you one of Mrs. De
Friese?

Always faithfully yours,
J. C. CROLY.

From a Letter to Mrs. May Riley Smith

... I have never done anything that was not helpful to woman so far as
it lay in my power. (April 2, 1886.)

Letters to Miss Anna Warren Story (Chairman of Executive Committee of
the Woman's Press Club of New York)

HILL FARM COTTAGE, HERSHAM,
WALTON-ON-THAMES, ENGLAND,
Oct. 29, 1900.

My dear Executive:

Your letter giving me all the news to date was most kind and welcome.
It seems very strange to be away from you all in this secluded corner
of Surrey, with nothing in sight but woods, a meadow in which cows are
grazing, and one neighboring cottage. My morning walk, when the
weather will admit of walking, is along the old post road lined with
woods and at the foot of our little lane or entrance to farm. The
other morning one solemn old cow put her head through the fence, and
stared with amazement at my crutches. Four others walked over to see
what she was looking at; and they all stood in a row, looking and
making no sound as long as I could see them. It was very funny.

It seems so odd after so many years of continuous and often hurried
work, to be using days for walking, and little things that since I was
a grown woman have been crowded into odds and ends of time, or omitted
for want of enough of it. I am gaining strength, however, and realize
how complete the prostration was, and how radical the reconstructive
processes had to be. The seclusion in which I live, surrounded by pine
woods, a mile and a half from the nearest post office (tho' a postman
brings our letters) and an equal distance from such supplies as a
village can afford, is a little trying in some ways, but a real boon
to me in my present condition.

It would have been very easy to plunge into the activities of women in
London. Many