IN Boston, your age is always carefully calculated in accordance with the year of your début in society and the sewing-circle to which you belong. In case of doubt, the maximum number of years are unfailingly attributed to you. I had the fortune, bad or good, to come half-way between two sets, and therefore to belong to neither of them. Our mother, who liked to give her daughters a little glimpse of society, took us to a few informal occasions while we were still at school. The exact Boston mind was therefore baffled in the very beginning as to our true age. At school all the girls in my class were older than I, except my friend, Louise Darling. Sister Julia and I were so nearly of the same age that in our school-girl days, as in those of our childhood, we went to parties together. Hence, when she began to go into society it was rather hard for me to stay behind, although I was only seventeen and still at school. By this time the unwisdom of exaggerating your age had appealed to my Boston soul, which was greatly torn during that winter. The older set, a number of whose members had been classmates at school, were now in society. As by a flash of light, I saw the dangers of my position, and drew back before it was too late. I joined the dancing-class of the younger set—the girls not yet out—although at school there had been little commerce between us. When a dance was given at our house, sister Julia should really have had all the honors. But she cared little for dancing, while I was very fond of it. One of my special friends, Charlie Longfellow, the poet’s eldest son, was my partner for the german. I carried a large bouquet and altogether had a royal time. Julia danced with Mr. Braggiotti, a Greek gentleman, and no doubt their conversation was less frivolous than ours. Charlie Longfellow ran away to the war not long afterward. When the time for my real entrance into society came, in the following year, there were only three other débutantes, namely, the Misses Sara P. Lowell, Cora Crowninshield, and Clara Gardner. Obviously no sewing-circle could be formed for us, so I joined that of the older set. Instead of the handsome lunch now customary at the meetings of these societies, we enjoyed a modest repast, consisting exclusively of bread and butter in endless variety—crumpets, brown bread, biscuits, etc., with tea or chocolate. It was served at eleven or twelve o’clock in the forenoon, dinner being at half past two.