Dr. Blackwell’s experience was so contradictory to Dr. Harriot K. Hunt’s statements of the Boston public (in which city a regularly graduated medical woman from Cleveland, Dr. Nancy E. Clark, had also settled) that I decided to avail myself of the fact that my excursion ticket included Boston and to accept Dr. Hunt’s invitation for a visit of a few days in order to learn more of the opportunities of that city. Arriving early one morning, I was conducted through winding streets from Exeter Place to Green Street to Dr. Hunt’s house, where I stayed, and where Mrs. Theodore Weld and Miss Sarah Grimké were engaged in editing Dr. Hunt’s autobiography, _Glances and Glimpses_, then in the press. I was shown into a room in the third story, and as I was descending the stairway soon afterward, my foot caught in the carpet in such a way that I fell head foremost down the stairs, striking against the door at the foot of the flight. The noise caused by this fall brought the inmates of the room to the door where I lay unconscious. My period of unconsciousness was short, and on opening my eyes I saw a queerly shaped scarlet leg on each side of my head, and above these a short drapery of the same bright color but with large flowers printed upon it, while from a beautiful, gentle and kind face encircled by soft white curls, came the words, “Are you hurt, my dear?” It was Mrs. Angelina Weld, in a bloomer dress of calico, and beside her was Miss Sarah Grimké, in a Quakerlike costume, trying to disentangle me from the position which I had assumed. The picture made by the ladies was so amusing that a burst of mirthful laughter brought me at once to my senses and to my feet, to the delight of these two charming ladies who became from that moment dear and intimate friends of mine. Dr. Hunt introduced me to many fine people who consulted her professionally, and also to Dr. Nancy Clark, then established as a physician in Boston. I observed that prejudice against women physicians was by no means as strong as in New York or Cleveland. A school established in 1850, for the education and training of “midwives,” had been supported by Boston’s liberal-minded men and women. Some of the graduates of this school practiced very successfully as midwives. This school developed later into a medical school for women (New England Female Medical College), and was now giving legal diplomas of “Doctor of Medicine.” The medical school was a small but very respectably lodged concern, with correct and kind men for teachers, and with substantial prospects for getting a larger building and greater advantages for study within a year or two.