The early interest of Florence in financial affairs was shown by the arrangements for our concert. From the hothouse at “Green Peace” we procured—without charge—flowers which we arranged in tiny bouquets. These were sold to the audience for a cent apiece, our friends obligingly throwing them back at us, in token of admiration for our performance. By this simple yet remunerative scheme we secured both the flowers and the price thereof. Some of them were, I hope, given to Miss Ellen Burns, our prima donna, on the occasion of her benefit. I had often seen, on theatrical bill-boards, the phrase, “Benefit of So-and-so.” This seemed to me a much more alluring and attractive word than “Concert.” When I was informed that this name implied the giving of the profits to the beneficiary, I refused, with the horrid obstinacy of childhood, to accept any such paltry explanation. “Play on the shovel,” which was much liked, was included in the program. Our audience consisted principally of the teachers and officers of the Institution. They nobly paid one or more pins for their seats, according to desirability. From all this it will be judged that our musical education was already well begun, Mr. Otto Dresel being our master. I will not say that we regarded him as belonging to the same class as the family dentist, because the latter we considered a species of ogre. But we duly feared and respected Mr. Dresel as a person who might at any time stamp his feet or say, with energy, “How stupid!” as we no doubt were. It now seems to me that he was wonderfully patient with us and our little stumbling fingers. For, like most artists, he was a man of highly nervous organization. He was not only one of Boston’s leading pianists, but a composer of merit. Our kind friends, the Bensons and Schlessingers, allowed us to take our music lessons at their house in Boston, in these early days, thus saving our master the long trip to South Boston. A most pleasant eleven-o’clock lunch was provided for the little people, to our great joy. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ V UNDER THE SHADOW OF BYRON’S HELMET _Echoes of the Greek Revolution.—The Enchanted Garden.—“Green Peace” an International Resort.—Political Exiles Teach Us Foreign Languages and the Love of Freedom.—Louis Kossuth._ WHILE the Institution for the Blind was our pleasant refuge, our permanent and dearly loved home was “Green Peace.” As you came in the main door of entrance and looked down the long hallway of the house you saw directly opposite to you Byron’s helmet, fitting symbol of the man who dwelt there. My father had hung it up, as a returned pilgrim did his staff and cockle-hat in the olden time, or a warrior his sword and shield.