We all scraped lint and there were sewing-circles in the afternoon and in the evening. The latter were the more festive, gentlemen coming in after our work was done. The Sanitary Commission then occupied much the same position that the Red Cross does to-day. Women showed the greatest zeal in working for it, though their efforts were not always wisely directed. The great patriotic fairs were a striking feature of war-days. The one held in New York for the benefit of the Sanitary Commission was the largest of all. The tremendous labor involved killed the noble woman who took a leading part in it. Boston also held a great bazaar for the benefit of the National Sailors’ Home, in which we assisted my mother. She was editor of the fair newspaper, _The Boatswain’s Whistle_. I remember the discussion of the title with William Morris Hunt, the artist, who imitated the action of the boatswain piping up aloft. He possessed the power to present, in this way, pictures which his striking head and figure made perfect. Doubtless he would have made a fine actor. At the head of the little newspaper stood the device of the boatswain designed by Mr. Hunt. My mother had the assistance of some of our best-known writers, but the responsibility and the heaviest share of labor she bore herself. Mr. James C. Davis helped in the work of arranging the paper, but it was necessary also to employ a professional person who understood the technicalities of the “make-up.” The Great Fair was held in the Boston Theater, and lasted some ten days. Every variety of object was sold there—many by means of raffles. It seemed fitting that there should be a table for the sale of our paper. We of the younger generation duly established ourselves in charge of it—selling also stationery and small articles. We thought it all great fun. I am ashamed to think how much we tormented Mrs. Hooper, the lady at the head of the fair management, for our various small needs. Mrs. Harrison Gray Otis, who occupied a unique position in the Boston society of that day, was prominent among the women who worked for the national cause. She had been beautiful in her youth, but retained no vestige of good looks that were perceptible to the clear, cruel eyes of youth. I could hardly believe my father when he told us of her former sylph-like slenderness. For many years she gave a reception on the morning of Washington’s Birthday, which the whole world of society attended. My mother took us once, when we found Mrs. Otis arrayed in a low-necked black dress, with a black velvet head-dress. Her black hair was arranged in puffs or bandeaux coming down over the ears, a style extremely unbecoming to the lined face of an elderly woman. Mrs. Otis was tall and dignified, standing to receive her guests. The entire house was thrown open to visitors, who wandered up and down-stairs at will.