e would think out pages of
incidents, and scenes, and even whole conversations, before he began to
dictate. After all had been arranged in his mind he dictated rapidly;
but there often were long pauses, when the secretary could do a good
deal of reading. In cold weather he had the secretary and an easy chair
in the study--a room he had built according to his own fancy. A fire of
blazing logs added a glow to his fancies.

I may state here that we always spent a part of every winter in New
York. A certain amount of city life was greatly enjoyed. Mr. Stockton
thus secured much intellectual pleasure. He liked his clubs, and was
fond of society, where he met men noted in various walks of life.[1]

[Footnote 1: Edward Gary, the secretary of the Century Club, in the
obituary notice of Mr. Stockton written by him for the club's annual
report, says of Mr. Stockton as a member: "It was but a dozen years ago
that Frank R. Stockton entered the fellowship of the Century, in which
he soon became exceedingly at home, winning friends here, as he won them
all over the land and in other lands, by the charm of his keen and
kindly mind shining in all that he wrote and said. He had an
extraordinary capacity for work and a rare talent for diversion, and the
Century was honored by his well-earned fame, and fortunate in its share
in his ever fresh and varying companionship."]

I am now nearing the close of a life which had had its trials and
disappointments, its struggles with weak health and with unsatisfying
labor. But these mostly came in the earlier years, and were met with
courage, an ever fresh-springing hope, and a buoyant spirit that would
not be intimidated. On the whole, as one looks back through the long
vista, much more of good than of evil fell to his lot. His life had been
full of interesting experiences, and one of, perhaps, unusual happiness.
At the last there came to pass the fulfilment of a dream in which he had
long indulged. He became the possessor of a beautiful estate containing
what he most desired, and with surroundings and associations dear to his
heart.

He had enjoyed The Holt, his New Jersey home, and was much interested in
improving it. His neighbors and friends there were valued companions.
But in his heart there had always been a longing for a home, not
suburban--a place in the _real_ country, and with more land. Finally,
the time came when he felt that he could gratify this longing. He liked
the Virginia cli