Soon after going North she met the poet Longfellow. He recognized her talent, became her warm personal friend, and lent her aid and encouragement in her work. She in turn seemed to impart new vigor to the white-haired poet. She became his private secretary and collaborator. At her suggestion he compiled "Poems of Places, Southern States," and she assisted in this work. It is a quaint conceit of the poet which causes him to treat the South as a separate country. In that interesting book, "Poets' Homes," appears a description of Longfellow's home written by her. It is given the place of honor in the book, but by a strange oversight no credit is given to the author. In one of her early letters from Boston, published in the _Memphis Avalanche_ she writes: "A great man and a poet, who enjoys the additional distinction of being my very good friend, read my first letter written for your columns, with an evident amusement, which he made a commendable effort to suppress. 'This is too bad,' frowned he, between smiles, 'don't do it again. Write about the good side of Boston next time.'" She wrote a number of letters for Southern newspapers in a style that the ordinary newspaper man would strive in vain to emulate, though she regarded the letters as mere potboilers. They give interesting accounts of the happenings in Boston, and her impressions of Boston's great men: Emerson, William Lloyd Garrison, Oliver Wendell Holmes and Wendell Philips. She says of Boston: "For the native Bostonian there are three paths to glory. If his name be Quincy or Adams, nothing more is expected of him. His blue blood carries him through life with glory and straight to heaven when he dies. Failing in the happy accident of birth, the candidate for Beacon Hill honors must write a book. This is easy. The man who can breathe Boston air and not write a book is either a fool or a phenomenon. One course remains to him should he miss fame in both these lines. He must be a reformer." She thus speaks of her meeting with Mr. Emerson: "The unaffected charm of Mr. Emerson's manner soon restored me to my normal serenity, and the interview progressed delightfully for both of us. He has the purest and most refined face I have ever seen, and his smile is something to be remembered forever. Of course we spoke of the South, and he expressed the opinion that the Southern man had a more elegant manner and a finer physical frame than the Northerner, but must generally yield the palm in intellect. And to this I assented sorrowfully enough, recalling as I did, the small returns from the stock I took in a certain Philo club, where I spent the ambrosial evenings of my life and pinned my faith to several masculine coat sleeves of intellectual giants pro tempore, who would have brought my tawny hair down in sorrow to the grave--if I hadn't taken the pin out.