We have found it a little hard to forgive our distinguished ancestor his imprudence. If he had only been inoculated beforehand all might have been well, but he could not take the time! However, we console ourselves by remembering that he was the _only_ Colonial governor who refused to carry out the odious stamp act! His son, Lieut-Col. Samuel Ward, did good service in the Revolution. Cousin John regarded these and other ancestors with a reverence that amounted almost to awe. He would let you take a peep at Governor Ward’s Congressional Journal, but you were not permitted to touch it. Yet he made no provision for the care of these beloved papers after his death. They were inherited by a relative who, possessing no taste for genealogical research, has locked them up in a safe-deposit box. I have sometimes thought there should be _one_ genealogist—and only one—in each generation. Yet, when I remember the lives of some of those I have known, it seems a little hard to condemn even _one_ person every thirty years to this gentle fate. For it is not to be denied that genealogists are often ineffective, though excellent, persons. It has been already said of Cousin John that he went to the Civil War. So he did his “bit” for his country. During the seven months while the family were in Europe sister Maud remained under my charge. With the help of Miss Mary Paddock, we kept house in the “Doctor’s” part of the Institution, visiting various relatives later on. That Miss Paddock should thus come to help us out was quite in the usual order of things. We were all fond of her and accepted her aid as a matter of course. As the young Howes grew older, we saw and appreciated the sterling worth and rare unselfishness of her character. It was a part of my father’s power to draw to his aid people of worth and ability. His chivalrous spirit thrilled through his assistants. They saw him devoting his life to the care of the maimed lambs of the human fold—they, too, would and did help in the good work. Working with the “Doctor” was no light service, yet all knew that he himself labored harder than any one else. Of necessity there was much steady, practical work, yet, as in all pioneer labor, there was the romance of hewing out new paths. To enlist under the “Doctor’s” banner was in itself an adventure. Mary Paddock did so enlist, becoming a teacher at the Institution for the Blind in her young womanhood. Her devotion to my father ended only with his life. She was with us often at “Lawton’s Valley” and “Green Peace” as faithful friend and helper. During the last years of my father’s life, when his health was failing badly, she was his amanuensis and nurse. For her memory we all feel deep affection and gratitude.