THE first six years of our married life were spent in New York City. Here we shared with my husband’s brother, Rowland Minturn Hall, and his two sisters, Elizabeth Prescott Hall and Frances Minturn Hall, the family home at No. 208 Second Avenue. During this period our three older children were born, hence my time was much occupied with them. As my husband cared little for society, our life was extremely quiet, our social gaieties being for the most part confined to a pleasant family circle. Our eldest son, Samuel Prescott, was born at “Green Peace,” South Boston. My mother thus recorded the event in her journal: _September 13_.—Before I open even my New Testament to-day I must make record of the joyful birth of Flossy’s little son, which took place soon after 1 A.M.... The boy is a handsome infant.... I quieted him until 5 A.M., when I slept two hours. God bless this dear little child. May he bring new peace and love to the house where he comes a little too soon for convenience—I mean for his uncle and aunts Hall. His father and mother will bless God for him, as I do. When I heard the baby’s first cry it seemed to me the sweetest music to which I had ever listened. The nurse had formerly been a Shaker, and soothed the child with quaint melodies of that sect. He hears the ravens when they cry, He clothes the shining mead, And shall He not my wants supply With everything I need? The air was old, having little quavers savoring of the “tie-wig” period. Sammy was a nervous child and required much quieting. He took his daily nap out of doors, winter and summer. He was the first grandson, sister Laura’s first child, born a month or two before, being a daughter. We named him for the two families, Samuel after my father, and Prescott for my husband’s great-grandmother, Elizabeth Prescott, wife of the Rev. David Hall. She was descended from the Rev. Peter Bulkley, the founder of Concord, Massachusetts, and the lineal descendant of stout old Baron Bulkley, one of the men who wrested Magna Charta from King John and thus laid the foundations of the liberties of England and America. Samuel Prescott, my husband’s great-greatuncle, accompanied Paul Revere on his famous ride. It must be confessed, however, that his errand was in part, at least, one of sentiment, as he was going to see his sweetheart in Concord. When Paul Revere was captured, Prescott escaped and carried the news of the coming of the British to Concord. His name is duly inscribed on one of the sign-posts which indicate to the passer-by all the historic spots of the ancient town. I dislike this excess of labeling which leaves nothing to the imagination.