In 1853, with the aid of some of my friends, a small room was engaged in a poor quarter of the town near Tompkin’s Square; one of my Quaker friends, Mrs. Cornelia Hussey, actively assisted in arranging drugs, covering a screen, &c. This dispensary (afterwards moved to Third Street) was opened three afternoons in each week, and I had the satisfaction during the following two years of finding it welcomed by the poor, and steadily enlisting a larger circle of friends. In 1854 the Act of Incorporation for an institution where women physicians could be available for the poor was obtained, and a few well-known citizens consented to act as trustees. The first annual report of this modest little dispensary is given in the Appendix. From this very small beginning have gradually arisen the present flourishing institutions of the New York Infirmary and College for Women. It was during these first early years that, not being able to continue the expense of good consultation-rooms, I determined to _buy_ a house. A friend lent me the necessary money at fair interest, and a house in a good situation in Fifteenth Street was selected. This transaction proved a very material assistance in many different ways, and enabled me to form the home centre which is so necessary to the most efficient work. In later years also this early experience helped me to realise more fully the fundamental importance of the great land question, or ‘a stake in the soil,’ as well as other weighty social problems. The difficulties and trials encountered at this early period were severe. Ill-natured gossip, as well as insolent anonymous letters, came to me. Although I have never met with any serious difficulties in attending to my practice at all hours of the night, yet unpleasant annoyances from unprincipled men were not infrequent. Some well-dressed man would walk by my side on Broadway, saying in a low voice, ‘Turn down Duane Street to the right;’ or whilst waiting for a horse-car at midnight by the City Hall a policeman would try to take my hand; or a group of late revellers would shout across the street, ‘See that lone woman walking like mad!’ But with common sense, self-reliance, and attention to the work in hand, any woman can pursue the medical calling without risk. The heat of a New York summer also was at this time very trying to an English constitution. A letter to my sister in 1853 exclaims:— Oh, dear! it is so hot I can hardly write. I was called this morning to Flushing to see a sick child, and then attended my dispensary, the thermometer varying from 86 to 90 in the house, and it stood at 102 in some rooms down town. Walk as deliberately as I would, it made my brain seem too large for my head. Flushing reminded me of the Sahara; it lay breathless under a cloudless sky, leaden with haze. In relation to mischievous gossip it is written:—