XVIII. OUR CHILDREN AT HOME, SCHOOL, AND COLLEGE An Attic 250 Fairy.—Our Child Artist Grinds Her Own Paints.—Scholarships and Athletics at Harvard University.—Our Youngest Wins an “H.”—American Girls’ Club in Paris.—Caroline’s Pictures Exhibited in the New Salon. XIX. THE CLUB AND SUFFRAGE MOVEMENTS Enthusiasm of the 258 Pioneer Clubwomen.—Early Conventions of the General Federation of Women’s Clubs.—Work as President of New Jersey Woman Suffrage Association.—We Visit the Legislature.—Campaign for School Suffrage.—Formation of New Leagues.—Lucy Stone and Her Baby’s Cradle.—Rev. Samuel Smith, Author of “America.” XX. JOYS AND SORROWS OF THE LECTURER The Treatment of 276 “Talent”—Visits to New England and to the West.—My Mother’s Seventieth Birthday.—The papeterie Club.—Elizabeth Stewart Phelps.—Thomas Nelson Page. XXI. DARBY AND JOAN ON THEIR TRAVELS A Cathedral 286 Pilgrimage.—Visit to a French Country House.—Madame Blanc.—Cathedrals of Rheims, Chartres, Rouen, Beauvais, Amiens.—English Hospitality.—Visit to Florence Nightingale. XXII. “WANDER-YEARS” Michael Anagnos, His Romantic Yet 308 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. XXIII. UNTO THE THIRD AND FOURTH GENERATION My Mother’s 332 Beautiful Old Age.—How It Feels to be an Ancestor.—Grandmotherhood in the Twentieth Century.—Keeping Alive the Sacred Fires of Noble Tradition.—Handing on the Lighted Torch. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ FOREWORD IT has been a pleasure for me to recall, at the kind request of the Messrs. Harper & Brothers, the memories of a lifetime, even though some sad thoughts have mingled with the happy ones. So many bright shapes have risen out of the past at my bidding that the difficulty of selection has been great. Beloved faces seem to look out at me and say, “Why did you leave me out?” The ghosts of noble deeds, the memories of stirring scenes sweep softly by me, murmuring: “Are we not worthy of mention?” Indeed and indeed you are, bright spirits of the past and of the present also, but in my small mosaic all the precious stones would not fit. For the rest, if the store of my childhood’s early memories seems to be unduly large, it must be whispered that when, some twenty-five years ago, I began to record my reminiscences, a good fairy, my mother, helped me.