Inextricably confused with my reminiscences of Bordentown and the Mailliards are memories of the Gilder family, their friends and neighbors. Did I really see Richard Watson Gilder there, a romantic looking boy in a short jacket with a round collar, or is the impression received from an old daguerreotype? I can’t quite recover this faintest impression, but it will not “down.” The Gilders, Richard, Joseph, and Jeanette, were the playmates of my cousins, and in the chance meetings of later years the word “Bordentown” opened for them and for me a long vista peopled by the same figures; my aunt with her white teeth and smoothly parted dark hair, Uncle Do, and the lovely Louisa, one of the most distinguished looking girls I ever saw. The atmosphere of my aunt’s house was unlike any other. The children were repressed and demure, the language was French, the point of view European. Slight as was my contact with Uncle Do, he gave me fresh ideas, and my experience under his roof threw out a new wing to my house of life. It is fortunate that aunts and uncles, especially “in laws”, rarely realize their influence upon nieces and nephews. It would be more than they could bear. It is bad enough to be responsible for your own children; to be responsible for other people’s is out of the question. And yet, next to our parents, some of us are influenced more by uncles and aunts than by any other people. When I returned to Boston after this wonder trip, I had gained a deal of experience and had opened two accounts in the bank of family affection upon which I was henceforward to draw heavily. One stood in the name of my Uncle Sam Ward, the other of my Aunt Annie Mailliard. During the World War I received from a stranger a request for an autograph letter of Uncle Sam’s for a private collection. I chose one from my treasured correspondence full of the warm charm of the man. It described a breakfast he had given for Sara Bernhardt and dwelt on his last gift to me, a certain web of glimmering yellow satin, reminding me that a blonde need not fear to wear yellow, as Paul Veronese and Rubens both painted fair-haired women in golden satins. Shortly after I sent the letter off, I received two epistles from England, both bearing coronets. I quote from one of them. 27 Old Burlington St. W. Dear Mrs. Elliott I have just received from Mr. Louis C. May the very interesting autograph letter of Mr. Samuel Ward that you have so kindly given for the collection of His Majesty. It is a great addition and is greatly appreciated by Sir Dighton Probyn, who has been interesting himself in getting the collection together. Out of 1600 signatures there are only seven now outstanding, which will give you an idea of the success Sir Dighton has met with. He has just written me that he is sending you a line of thanks for your courtesy. I take the opportunity of adding my own and remain, Yours sincerely, Fairfax. June 13, 1917.