Experience had taught me never to go on a committee in any social matter unless the committee was formed by myself, or made up of personal friends on whom I could rely, and who would second and support me in my work; for I well knew that it requires hard head-work and hand-work to carry through to success any social project. Sometimes it happens--it has often happened to me--that you have men on a committee with you who are wofully ignorant of the work they have undertaken to superintend, who in one breath tell you “I know nothing about this business,” and in the next criticise, discuss, and deluge you with useless and worthless suggestions, and then, when they find they themselves can do nothing turn the whole matter over to you and tell you to “go ahead.” You do go ahead and do their work, and then, when they find it is effectual, and they see your efforts will be crowned with success, they quietly come in and appropriate the credit of it. However, on this occasion I agreed to act, as my duties were confined to forming the opening quadrille, and taking charge of the dancing. Picture to yourself a huge hall, one mass of human beings awaiting the opening of the ball, impatient of delay, anxious to dash off into the waltz, tempted by the inspiriting strains coming from a perfect band of one hundred well-trained musicians. Then, at one end of this vast hall, a stage filled with ladies in brilliant costumes, and foreign officers all in uniform; the Governor of the State, the Mayor of the City, and the chairmen of the various Yorktown committees; then your humble servant as one of the Floor Committee, flitting from one group to another, instructing each of them what they were to do. The position was indeed droll. I stood behind the Governor, who was to all outward appearances conversing with General Boulanger, but was literally squeezing my hand and asking me what he was to do. One distinguished German general promptly said, “I go it blind! I will simply do what the others do.” These were the forces I had to marshal and put through a quadrille. I dodged from one to the other and called out the figures, and breathed a sigh of relief when the dance was concluded. Looking around the galleries and scanning all the distinguished people, my eye lit upon a wonderfully bright and intelligent face. Inwardly I said, “There is a man among men. Who can it be?” My curiosity was so aroused that I went into his box, introduced myself to him as one of the Floor Committee, and said, “I have never seen you before; I know you are a distinguished man. Pray who are you?” Laughingly, he replied, “I am James G. Blaine.” “Well,” I said, “my instincts have not failed me this time. I have heard and read of you for years. Now I see your genius in your face.” Beauty in woman, genius in man, happily I never fail to discover. The invitation to this ball was as follows: [Coat of Arms of the State of New York.] _BALL._