My mother’s passionate fondness for music and love of dancing in her youth have been mentioned elsewhere. Small wonder that these dramatic airs, as she played them, stirred the little daughter to whom dancing was the natural mode of expression. My performances were no doubt admired by the family much more than they deserved. As we were still lingering in a certain degree of Puritanism, the invention of fancy dances was then rare. Among those which I “originated” were dances for the four seasons, and the dagger dance—usually performed with a silver fruit-knife—of Lady Macbeth. Intimate friends of the family were allowed to witness these. Alas! I once cast the dagger from me with so noble a passion that it narrowly missed one of the guests. After that greater reserve was necessary. Our mother was quick to recognize and to praise any little manifestation of talent or originality on our part. She did not look with an entirely favorable eye upon our competitors. Thus neither she nor I wholly approved of the performance of a little girl who danced the cachucha, with castanets, at a party in Providence. In the daytime the child was not as pretty as by gaslight. I suspect that she was freckled. However, she did not again cross my orbit. In West Roxbury lived another young girl who danced, Miss Emily Russell, a daughter of Mr. George Russell. Her performances were more ambitious than mine, being conducted on the footboard of a bedstead. Friends were invited to see these, one lady appearing in diamonds and a corn-colored barège. The costume aroused some criticism. I have already intimated that in old Boston it was necessary to dress with discretion. My father taught us to skate first with one foot, thereby avoiding some tumbles. There was a great revival of skating shortly before the Civil War. Jamaica Pond was in high favor, the cars going there being jammed with people. Father revived his skating, as did many older people, a certain general arousing unfavorable comment by appearing on double runners—_i.e._, skates with two blades. To me the exercise was even more delightful than riding on horseback. I still dream of flying along on skates in the most wonderful manner. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ IX EDWIN BOOTH AND CHARLOTTE CUSHMAN _Why They Did Not Act My Mother’s Play, “Hippolytus.”—A Bundle of Old Playbills.—Letters from Edwin and Mary Booth.—Mrs. Frances Ann Kemble.—Statue of Horace Mann.—My Father Introduces Written Examinations into the Public Schools, amid Angry Protests from the Masters._ WE usually accepted the appearance of distinguished visitors at “Green Peace” in a spirit of philosophic calm. Young people are little moved by what does not directly concern them.