After serving as president of the New Jersey Woman Suffrage Association for eight years, I retired. Mrs. Cornelia Hussey, a devoted suffragist, whose generous financial support had been indispensable to the state association, made me a life member of the National and through the vote of the state association I became its first honorary president. Such recognitions of one’s work are always heartening because they testify to the approval of one’s fellow-workers. The greatest reward is the consciousness that one has done something, be it ever so little, for the “grand old cause of human freedom.” My husband had been a “Pooh Bah” in Scotch Plains, and I now deserved the title in Plainfield. Our little Unitarian church needed a president for its Women’s Alliance, and during eleven years I held the office. This did not involve long-distance excursions, however. In addition to working for the church, we prepared and read papers. It was a pleasure to meet with this intelligent body of women. In our Plainfield chapter of the D. A. R. I enjoyed serving as regent and vice-regent for some years. As president of the local league I continued my work for suffrage. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ XX JOYS AND SORROWS OF THE LECTURER _The Treatment of “Talent.”—Visits to New England and to the West.—My Mother’s Seventieth Birthday.—The papeterie Club.—Elisabeth Stewart Phelps Ward.—Thomas Nelson Page._ IN the ’nineties the women’s clubs were beginning to offer a field for lecturers. After reading a paper before my own club in Plainfield I was emboldened to enter this, and during twenty-five years made lecture trips to New England and the middle West, as well as to near-by points. “The Art of Conversation,” and “Personal Reminiscences of Distinguished People” were among my most popular talks. Boston was my mother’s home and also a great center of club activity. Hence I was glad to give many talks in New England, combining them with visits to her delightful home at 241 Beacon Street. On one of these trips I attended an authors’ reading where the name of Elizabeth Stewart Phelps Ward was on the program. She duly took her part, but we learned afterward that she had told the chairman she might not feel like speaking. “When it is my turn, do not announce me unless I spring up and come forward.” As Mrs. Ward was sitting behind the chairman, the latter had some anxious moments before the author of “Gates Ajar” decided to “spring up.” If not the first to speak on the subject of manners, I was a pioneer in the field. A friend surprised me by saying that my talks at schools had become the fashion in New York. A look at my engagement-book showed that she was right.