But these guests? I remember the great Professor Agassiz, with his wise, kindly face and genial smile. I can see him putting sugar into his coffee, lump after lump, till it stood up above the liquid like one of his own glaciers. I remember all the “Abolition” leaders, for our own parents were stanch Abolitionists, and worked heart and soul for the cause of freedom. I remember when Swedish ships came into Boston Harbor, probably for the express purpose of filling our parlors with fair-haired officers, wonderful, magnificent, shining with epaulets and buttons. There may have been other reasons for the visit; there may have been deep political designs, and all manner of mysteries relating to the peace of nations I know not. But I know that there was a little midshipman in white trousers, who danced with Laura, and made her a bow afterward and said, “I tanks you for de polska.” He was a dear little midshipman! There was an admiral too, who corresponded more or less with Southey’s description,-- “And last of all an admiral came, A terrible man with a terrible name,-- A name which, you all must know very well, Nobody can speak, and nobody can spell.” The admiral said to Harry, “I understand you shall not go to sea in future times?” and that is all I remember about him. I remember Charlotte Cushman, the great actress and noble woman, who was a dear friend of our mother; with a deep, vibrating, melodious voice, and a strong, almost masculine face, which was full of wisdom and kindliness. I remember Edwin Booth, in the early days, when his brilliant genius and the splendor of his melancholy beauty were taking all hearts by storm. He was very shy, this all-powerful Richelieu, this conquering Richard, this princely Hamlet. He came to a party given in his honor by our mother, and instead of talking to all the fine people who were dying for a word with him, he spent nearly the whole evening in a corner with little Maud, who enjoyed herself immensely. What wonder, when he made dolls for her out of handkerchiefs, and danced them with dramatic fervor? She was very gracious to Mr. Booth, which was a good thing; for one never knew just what Maud would say or do. Truth compels me to add that she was the _enfant terrible_ of the family, and that the elders always trembled when visitors noticed or caressed the beautiful child.