How she loved children! And they all loved her. Noticing the little son of one of the professors gathering daisies in the field near the observatory one afternoon, she called to him,--"You may go into my garden and pick some flowers there, but be sure not to take any of the roses." When the delighted child appeared to her later, she saw to her great surprise his arms filled with them. "Didn't I say you were not to pick my roses?" "Didn't know they were roses," said the boy innocently, amusing her greatly. "It takes a little five year old to crawl out of a tight place." Miss Mitchell disliked form, the silent grace at table being even a little objectionable to her. "I wonder what they all say when they put their heads down? As for me"--and her eyes gleamed with fun--"I have just time to say one line of 'The spacious firmament on high.'" We went out to dinner one Sunday together. She asked me beforehand what time I had ordered the carriage to bring us home. I named the hour. "Put it an hour earlier. I shall enjoy every moment up to that time, but I am afraid I cannot be polite any longer." Certain phrases amused her and she could be very funny over two particularly,--"the first step in female education," and the "scheme of salvation,"--"so very schemey" she would repeat. "What name are you going to give this precious club of radicals?" "Why, you have just given me the idea--have named it yourself--the radicals," a title which abbreviated to Rads was adopted at once. There were only four or five of us outside of the students who had Unitarian preferences, and we were considered on account of this, by our orthodox sisters, to be indeed very black sheep religiously. The club was very informal, meeting every Sunday evening for supper at the observatory, or in the room of a member, entertaining in this way any guest visiting the college that Miss Mitchell considered in sympathy enough to invite. The aim was serious, excluding all gossip and light talk, and while there was no straining after "high thinking," it was certain we had frequent hint of this in Miss Mitchell's independent, stimulating opinions, and from the friends who came as guests, bringing their best thoughts with them. "No matter what we resolve to talk about," she said laughingly, "we always seem to end up with the immortality of the soul." This subject had a fascination for her and she was fond of getting "views" as she called it from persons she valued. Once on a visit to Whittier, she asked him if he had any doubts of a future life. He seemed amusedly incredulous there could be any. "But _I_ am not at all sure in _my_ mind," returned Miss Mitchell. He looked at her and answered slowly,--"The idea of Maria Mitchell's being snuffed out!" and would pursue the theme no further. How often she used to say,--"If I only had your happy ideas about the hereafter!" "A matter of good digestion merely." "And did you never lie awake in terror of hell?" "Never!" emphatically.