A magic change took place on that day! At previous school meetings peanut shells and other débris had been scattered about the floor, and the electors had mistaken the ink-wells in the children’s desks for cuspidors! It had always been necessary to close the school for a day in order to clear up after the “illicthors.” Behold, on the coming of the women neatness and order reigned. Next day school kept as usual. The overseer of the poor in our little village was in his private capacity a landlord. A certain family failing to pay their rent, he turned them out of doors in the middle of winter. They camped out on a piazza until they could find other quarters. My husband was so indignant that at the next election he ran for the office, and was duly elected. Quite a little work but no salary was attached to it. The four dollars which he received were presumably for expenses. His friends amused themselves with guying the new overseer of the poor by sending tramps to call on him. I remember only one real pauper with whom he had to deal—a respectable old woman no longer able to maintain herself. There was outside aid to be given, notably to the family of a man in jail. At the instigation of the owner, a woman, he had set fire to her house, and was caught in the act. When the trial came she had her children in court, and was let off. S—— had children, also, but they were at home. Hence he was sent to prison. He no doubt deserved it, but, as the civil authorities made no provision for the maintenance of his family, they had a hard time to get along. We realized the terrible injustice of taking away the breadwinner and expecting his wretched wife and children to care for themselves without outside assistance. There were, when we came to Scotch Plains, a Baptist and a Methodist church, and a struggling little Episcopal mission. My husband and I decided to throw in our fortunes with the last named. We liked the clergyman in charge, Rev. Charles L. Sykes, very much, and we both had a tendency to take the part of the under dog. Mr. Sykes’ talents qualified him to occupy a more important position, but clergyman’s sore throat obliged him to choose a small cure. He was one of the most devout men that I have ever known. He did not read nor recite prayers, like most ministers. When he prayed we felt that his soul was lifted up to God. His wife was a woman of ability, cheery and courageous; we soon became great friends.