hand, sitting apart from us
at the open window. We had just sung one of her favorites, the old
ballad "Far Away," and were beginning another with all the energy of
amateurs when it occurred to me that Mrs. Croly might be tired and
ready to go to her room for the night. Bending over I whispered,
"Come, dear, you must be weary of all this." She turned slowly in her
chair, and looking up into my face, smiling whimsically, said: "Oh,
no, not yet! I am enjoying the music just as if it were good!"

I have already intimated that the home life of the family was happy.
There existed between husband and wife a genuine congeniality in
tastes and pursuits; yet between any two minds when both are strong
and original there will generally be a divergence; and it has always
seemed to me that the origin of Sorosis might be traced by the
psychological analyst to some such divergence between Mrs. Croly's
lines of intellectual development and those of her equally gifted
husband, David G. Croly. The power of initiative was strong in each of
these two, and in each it produced excellent though differing results.

It is cause for regret that Mrs. Croly did not write more in her
latter years, when her native wisdom had ripened in the soil of a rich
experience.

Her philosophy was the fruit of a rightly-lived, useful life, and even
after the distressing accident which lamed her, her enthusiasm never
waned, but rather seemed intensified and glorified. Seldom do the
heart and brain work together as did hers. She will ever stand to
those who knew her as a fine specimen of a rare type. She had
convictions, and she had the courage to uphold them. She hated shams
and hypocrisy with the vigor of Carlyle. The bravery of her public
life was matched by the beauty of her private life. Good and Truth
were her watchwords. "Good has faculty," says Swedenborg, "but not
determinate except by truth. Determinate faculty is actual power." In
the dear friend whom we here commemorate, faculty was determinate.

Brave and honest pleader for woman; true, tender, sincere friend, you
fought the good fight well; the world is better for your work, and
among your saddest survivors are those whom you smote with a deserved
pen-stroke, or with spoken words, who have long since given you
grateful thanks.

C.M.M.

L'Envoi

She cut a path through tangled underwood
Of old traditions out to broader ways.
She lived to hea