That the blind had arranged and successfully carried out a celebration of the centennial of their benefactor and the friend of her youth, Doctor Howe, appealed to her, and she expressed a desire to have a copy of the monograph describing the occasion. Miss Nightingale’s sense of hospitality would not permit me to leave without partaking of some refreshment. As we sat chatting together, afternoon tea with the usual accompaniments—toast, etc.—was brought for my delectation, all with the immaculate neatness and daintiness so characteristic of the author of _Notes on Nursing_. Miss Nightingale herself took no tea, but a goblet with what appeared like lemonade was brought to her. So I had the honor of taking tea with one of the world’s greatest heroines! One would never have guessed this from her bearing, however. It was characterized by perfect simplicity and an entire absence of self-assertion. In a word, she had the manners of a true English gentlewoman of high breeding. She more than once expressed regret that we had so little time for England, owing to a prolonged stay in France. This evidently impressed her, as she recurred to it. She seemed really sorry that we were obliged to leave England so soon, and said we must come back again. I was indeed reluctant to leave her serene and beautiful presence, but, remembering the caution of the secretary and feeling upon honor, as I had been left alone with my distinguished hostess, I arose in due season to take my leave. I shall not soon forget the sweetness and fullness of the voice in which the dear lady bade me farewell I seem to hear that “Good-by” still ringing in my ears and repeated more than once as a sort of benediction: “Good-by! Good-by!” Her voice was like my mother’s. No sign of age was in its full, rounded tones, wonderful in a woman more than eighty years old. Thus a beautiful old age, serene and tranquil, fitly crowned her life of most beneficent activity. “The Lady with the Lamp” who watched over the sick soldiers, flitting from room to room when all others slept, lived to see her work multiplied a thousandfold and spread all over the earth. What wonder that the evening of her days was serene and happy in the thought of so much suffering saved, so much blessing gained to the children of men! ------------------------------------------------------------------------ XXII “WANDER-YEARS” _Michael Anagnos, His Romantic Yet Practical Career.—Death of My Husband.—Return to New York.—My Daughter’s Exhibitions.—High Bridge, a Quaint Old Jersey Town.—Leader Twelfth Assembly District of Manhattan.—Suffrage-worker at Newport, Rhode Island.—The Delights of Canvassing and Out-of-door Speaking._ ONE morning in the summer of 1906 I took up the newspaper and saw that my brother-in-law, Michael Anagnos, had died in Rumania, after a brief illness.