Rev. William Rounceville Alger was one of the “intellectuals” of whom we saw a good deal. For a time he occupied Theodore Parker’s pulpit in Music Hall, where sister Maud enjoyed hearing him preach. I fear that we classed him as one of “mamma’s owls.” We so called, in a general way, the men of literary taste with whom she liked to converse. Among the persons of note who dined with us at 13 Chestnut Street was Mr. Olcott, vegetarian and reformer, now best known as the father of Louisa Olcott. He spoke of his poetic views about foodstuffs, declaring that grains were to be preferred to roots, since the former grew above the ground, hence nourished our higher faculties, whereas the latter, being of the earth, must be earthy. This singular theory did not appeal to my father, nor, indeed, to any of us, Carlyle said of it, “Olcott and his potato gospel won’t go down here.” He held “conversations,” at one of which he observed, apropos of cannibalism, that if we were to eat flesh at all, he did not see why we should not eat the best. Whereupon Mr. Coolidge, a gentleman of a literal turn of mind, was so horrified that he made a bee-line for the door. Mr. Olcott kept a school at one time where punishment was vicarious: if the children did wrong they were to punish him. For the offenses of one of Mr. Olcott’s daughters, L—— L——, a very good little girl, received correction. One of the many stories told of this gentleman was that he believed persons of fair hair and blue eyes were children of light who need not labor, whereas dark-haired individuals were children of darkness appointed to perform the work of the world. Mr. Olcott himself had fair hair and blue eyes, but his wife was dark! My father gave some breakfasts for gentlemen at the Chestnut Street house. I remember one where Alexander Hamilton, son of the great Federalist, was present and told various interesting stories. Among the family relics we have found a tiny lock of the hair of the statesman, sent by his son to my father. My mother was away from home when one of these breakfasts took place, and I sat at the head of the table as lady of the house. I appreciated the honor, although it was rather overpowering to be the only woman present. To No. 13 Chestnut Street, as well as to “Green Peace,” came clever and delightful women. The most original and brilliant of these was Mrs. Helen Bell, wife of Joseph Bell and the daughter of Rufus Choate, a famous lawyer of that day and a relative of Joseph H. Choate. She and her sister, Mrs. Ellerton Pratt, were a most charming and unique couple. They kept up a running fire of absurd sayings in which Yankee exaggeration played its part. Thus when some one declared that a certain German gentleman had objectionable manners at table, Mrs. Bell exclaimed: “What do you suppose he does? Do his feet fly up over his head, after every mouthful, or does he throw the tender vegetables about!”