d I retorted, "We are not all
assured of our temperatures at that period." She regarded me for a few
moments with unfeigned astonishment, but said nothing. I did not suffer
for my temerity at that moment, but later I was chagrined to learn she
had remarked that I was the most impertinent girl she had ever known. I
remember that upon another occasion she told me that one of Governor
Clinton's grandchildren, Augusta Clinton, was about to leave school at a
very early age. "Doesn't she intend to finish her education?" I
inquired. "No," was the quick and emphatic but stuttering reply, "she's
had sufficient education. I was at school only two months, and I'm sure
I'm smart enough." Her niece, Margaret Gelston, who was present and was
remarkable for her clear wits, retorted: "Only think how much smarter
you'd have been if you had remained longer." In an angry tone Mrs.
Clinton replied, "I don't want to be any smarter, I'm smart enough."

Mrs. Clinton's two nieces, the Misses Mary and Margaret Gelston, were
among my earliest and most intimate friends. They occupied a prominent
social position in New York and both were well known for their unusual
intellectuality. They were daughters of Maltby Gelston, President of the
Manhattan Bank, and granddaughters of David Gelston, who was appointed
Collector of the Port of New York by Jefferson and retained that
position for twenty years. Late in life Mary Gelston married Henry R.
Winthrop of New York. She died a few years ago leaving an immense estate
to Princeton Theological Seminary. "I pray," reads her will, "that the
Trustees of this Institution may make such use of this bequest as that
the extension of the Church of Christ on earth and the glory of God may
be promoted thereby." In the same instrument she adds: "As a similar
bequest would have been made by my deceased sister, Margaret L. Gelston,
had she survived me, I desire that the said Trustees should regard it as
given jointly by my said sister and by me." Some distant relatives,
thinking that her money could be more satisfactorily employed than in
the manner indicated, contested the will, and the Seminary finally
received, as the result of a compromise, between $1,600,000 and
$1,700,000.

One of my earliest recollections is of John Jacob Astor, a feeble old
man descending the doorsteps of his home on Broadway near Houston Street
to enter his carriage. His house was exceedingly plain and was one of a
row owned by him. His son,