The second memory is of Thanksgiving time. Every year on this day there was a gathering of the clan at the Emersons. There were the Thayers, Jacksons, Emersons, Simmonses, Bradfords, and Ripleys, but no others. The dinner was the traditional New England affair, the table heaped with food; and the conversation consisted of the usual family gossip. I remember there was always a discussion among the women as to whether one said Mr. Emerson or Cousin Waldo. As soon as dessert was served and the nuts and fruit brought on, there was a little ceremony that was invariably performed. Mr. Emerson would look down from the head of the table and, pretending not to see me, say: “Where is that little boy who likes figs?” This was my cue to march up to him, and, taking me on his knee, he would pop into my mouth, one by one, these delightful and expensive fruits, until I could not contain another one. Of course, my mother protested all the time, but he paid not the slightest attention. After dinner, in the evening, we played all sorts of games such as dumb crambo, and then everyone had to perform. It was a pet theory of Mr. Emerson’s that everyone should learn self-expression, and he demanded a recitation from the children of four and five up to those of the marriageable age. There was absolutely no way to get out of this. Despite the protests of the women, Mr. Emerson would have his after-dinner cigar. In fact, he almost always got his way, although he was never dictatorial. Sometimes it was with a gentle remark. When his wife asked him if she could have a spiritualistic meeting in the front parlor, he answered her with Hotspur’s words: “Certainly, for well I know thou willst not utter what thou dost not know and so far will I trust thee, gentle Kate!” On another occasion, when Aunt Mary was visiting the family, he happened to be in Boston. Aunt Mary slept in her coffin. She was very small, so purchased it before her death to be sure she had the right size and would not rattle! Mr. Emerson wrote to his wife in Concord, telling her he was going to bring some notables home for a visit, and begged her to persuade Aunt Mary not to wear her shroud at breakfast. Emerson’s sense of honor and justice were two of his most important qualities. The farmers used to come to him to settle their legal quarrels. Whatever difference of religious opinion the community held, they refused to allow him to be criticized in any way. When the Rev. Grindell Reynolds—an excellent but limited divine—got up in the Unitarian church and referred to the street upon which Emerson lived as “Atheist Lane,” the congregation rose in a body and filed out.