The President of the Brain Club was called Mrs. Josiah Quincy, Jr., because her husband’s father, a very old gentleman, was still living. The four generations, all having the same name, had their photographs taken in a group when the youngest was only a babe in arms. This carrying on of the family name appeals to sentiment, but is not convenient in practice. The third Josiah Quincy, finding unutterable confusion in his mail, adopted a middle initial in self-defense. He thus became Josiah _P._ Quincy. His brother, Samuel Quincy, fought in the Civil War. Their sister, Mary Quincy, had a fine contralto voice. We often saw her and her husband, Prof. B. A. Gould, as well as her parents, Mr. and Mrs. Josiah Quincy, Jr. I remember the former as a handsome man with beautiful snow-white hair and whiskers. These had turned prematurely, as he was still a vigorous man who took the trouble to make himself agreeable to the young. Perhaps this was owing to his political experience, for he had been Mayor of Boston. The house in Park Street was one of a series of spacious, pleasant residences, occupied by the Lowells, the Thomas Wards, the Misses Quincy, and other worthies of Boston. The last-named ladies were sisters of the ex-Mayor. Both he and they had pleasant summer places in Quincy, one of which has now become the Quincy Mansion School for Girls. Unitarianism, as all the world knows, became firmly intrenched in Boston in the early part of the nineteenth century. Many Puritan ideals still prevailed, however, especially with regard to the observance of Sunday. Certain persons adhered to the idea that no gay doings should take place on Saturday evening, that time being devoted to preparation for the Sabbath. These were usually plain people. Indeed, some individuals went so far as to disapprove of the celebration of Christmas. It was not uncommon to substitute New Year’s Day as the time to exchange presents. The students at Harvard College were obliged to go to all the services of whatever church they attended. Hence many of them selected our church, that of the Disciples, since here there was only one service on Sunday. During the week, attendance at morning chapel was compulsory, the hour being six and in later years seven o’clock. Small wonder that the undergraduate body learned to dress in a very short space of time, high boots and an ulster covering many deficiencies. The young Howes were always taken to church in the morning, but were free to spend the rest of Sunday very much as they liked. We were not expected to practise on the piano, however, and we entertained the usual superstition about the impropriety, not to say evil, of sewing on Sunday. Our aunt, Mrs. Crawford, who lived during the greater part of her life in Italy, brought back to us more liberal ideas about the use of the needle.