At the time of which I am writing, the Gardners lived at Number 152 Beacon Street, an attractive house whose windows looked out upon Charles River. Mr. Gardner was a genial, kindly man, greatly beloved by a large circle of friends and relatives by whom he is remembered as the prince of hosts. I learned from him one valuable secret I pass on to all young housekeepers. “Why is the coffee at your house so much better than other people’s?” I once asked him. “Because we are very extravagant. The only way to have good coffee is to buy the best, and use a lot of it!” The Gardners lost their only child, a promising boy, in infancy. They both took a great interest in young people of talent, and if all the boys and girls this generous couple helped to educate should raise their voices in grateful praise, there would be a veritable chorus of appreciation. Among Mrs. Gardner’s qualities is the capacity for making enduring friendships, not too common a trait in our restless age when people are continually on the move. Her circle has always included the talented and brilliant people of the day, and most distinguished visitors to Boston pay their court at Fenway Court. With all the pressure of her busy and interesting life, she always finds time for her old friends, among whom I am happily numbered. In our family she is best known as Kepoura, the Greek word for gardener, a nickname given her by my brother-in-law Anagnos, who greatly admired her. * * * * * January 3, 1915. Finished reading aloud Richard Harding Davis’ “With the Allies.” A good walk over the winter fields to Lawton’s Valley with A. He is very comforting and fine in many ways, but there is a note not quite in tune. “It’s the easiest thing in the world to make money or a reputation,” he said. This shows in a nutshell what I have always felt about him. It is _not_ easy to make either! This is a false view of life and not good, I think. Still it is a wholesome antidote in these materialistic days of grab and swagger. * * * * *