Her training, from her very start in life, made her a cosmopolitan; one of the factors of this world citizenship was her very early study of foreign languages. French, Italian and Latin she knew almost from the time she could speak, so that she gathered into her spirit the essence of the race genius of the Latins. Later came the Teutonic baptism, for she only learned German at fourteen, when her adored brother, Sam Ward, came home from Heidelberg, brimming over with the songs, the poetry, the philosophy of Germany. She studied Schiller and Goethe with ardor--among her treasures, we have found a long autograph letter from Goethe to her tutor, Dr. Cogswell. In her youth there were still cultivated French people living in New York, who had taken refuge there during the reign of terror. She remembered one of these gentlemen in exile who gave her French lessons, another who came to the house when there was a dinner party to mix the salad, a third who came to dress her hair for a ball. Then there were a group of Italian political exiles who were made welcome at her father’s house, and the Greek boy (a fugitive from the unspeakable Turk), Christy Evangelides, adopted by him, who till the day of his death spoke of her as his sister Julia. All these early influences tended to make a cosmopolitan of the little lady while she was still in the nursery. The general culture of the “little old New York” of that time was far broader than that of Boston; the narrow swaddling bands of Puritan provincialism never bound her free and vaulting spirit. From world citizenship to universal citizenship, to other world citizenship is a far cry. There are men and women with a truly cosmopolitan spirit who never attain that wider universal citizenship. She often quoted Margaret Fuller’s “I accept the universe.” Though keenly aware of the manner in which Margaret had laid herself open to ridicule by this high-sounding phrase, without herself formulating it (her sense of humor could never have allowed that), she practically did “accept the universe,” was always conscious of a sort of universal citizenship that made the affairs of every oppressed people her affairs. No hand, however dirty, was ever stretched out to her that she did not take it in her own and in taking it recognize the God in the man. She carried a touchstone in her bosom by which she found gold in natures that to others seemed trivial and base. She had few intimate friends, none in the usual sense of the term, for with all her bonhommie that made her the “friend of all the world,” the Universal Friend was her only real intimate. Her reserve of soul was impenetrable; only her poems, and occasionally a page in her diary, give us any insight into her spiritual nature--glimpses of a certain high companionship with the stars and the planets.