BLACKWELL FAMILY ALICE STONE BLACKWELL Kitty Barry 1872; Jan.-July 1886Dear Kitty, Here is "the harrowing tale" safely arriving after many misfortunes. May it plough, harrow and make fertile that stony territory which eleven years ago you deeded to me, thy Bride, Alice. Oct. 5th 1872 Received at Interlaken August 24th 1878.Dorchester, Mass. Jan, 3, 1886. Dear Kitty: Yesterday I went to the Public Library in Boston, and there met Emma. She told me, upon my inquiring, that the book you and Aunt B. sent had finally arrived. The Custom House had seized it, estimated the price at 60 cents, and made them pay 15 cents, i.e. 25%. Emma was much pleased with the book, and thought they had estimated it below its value. She is going to write, but as she is very busy and tired, and it may be a few days before she does so - and as you asked me to find out - I thought I would mention it. She is looking worn, and has more lines in her face than usual, (* like to enclose, but it would overweight postage. Affectionately, Alice Stone Blackwell.it seemed to me; but don't you tell her I said so. When anybody tells you you look tired, it always makes you feel twice as tired. At least, it does me. They have weighed Laurie, & find he weighs 42 lbs in his clothes & 38 lbs in his skin. Last Sept. he weighed only 38 in his clothes, but he has grown so long & tall since then that Uncle G. thinks all the additional flesh must have been put on at the ends. By the way, who is Joseph Hatton? He acts as English correspondent for a number of American papers, & of all the atrocious things that have been said on this side about Mr. Stead, I think his utterances have been the worst except perhaps those of the Nation. Whoever he is, he ought to be shaken. The Tribune finally published Mr. Powell's letter; perhaps I told you that before. The New Year's card came. Many thanks. Before I forget it -- I have been sending Aunt Marian the Century. This year I want to continue it; but if you can get it cheaper over there than we can here (which seems very odd), I should like to have you buy it month by month & mail it to her. In this way you & Aunt B. can read it too, before you send it on. I will send a money order. I hope the Christmas at Hastings was a pleasant one, & that Mr. Estcourt enjoyed your pudding, at all events, if he has any perception at all of what is good. You may send me back Aunt Ellen's letter, if you will. I should rather like to keep it as giving a lively description of the Christmasdoings. Flo had a large bundle from her family, containing a dress, gloves, & various things. Otis Flanders has given her a pair of very fine whale's teeth, which Elliot is afraid she does not appreciate. She says it is quite gay down there now; there are sundry meetings & gatherings, & she has to "recite a piece" on all occasions. This is the time of year when work is slack on the Vineyard & sociability flourishes in consequence. Very little has happened this week. We are all as usual. I have been re-reading the Arabian Nights, with a good deal of enjoyment. It made me want to eat dates, & Mamma obligingly got some, & I have devoured pounds. Mother has had a nice letter from Grace, which I should Dorchester, Mass. Jan. 24, 1886. Dear Kitty: We are all as usual, except that Papa is recovering from a heavy cold -- the first bad one he has had for years. Agnes reports gay doings from El Mora. Edith writes that she has gained fourteen pounds. Aunt Emily's last I enclose. Laurie partook voraciously of stewed peach sauce a week ago, & has had several indigestions in consequence; but was better at last accounts. Emma has gained several pounds. Howard likes Chauncy Hall, but Emma has dropped in several times to see how things were going on, & reports that the children were not made to behave, & that not of water if she thinks Michael has neglected him. She needs to be watched constantly to keep her from such things;enough is required of him in the way of study. When I was there, we were nothing if not hard-worked; & they were terrible martinets in the way of discipline. But that was nine years ago, & they have got a lot of new teachers in since then. The editor of the N.Y. Nation is a Mr. Godkin. Wendell Phillips Garrison is on the staff -- writes the book-reviews, I believe, & acts as assistant editor. He is said to be more under Mr. Godkin's influence than could be wished, but is not a bad man. A son of Garrison's couldn't be. I see that Frances Willard has written a tract on Social Purity. & with all you can do, she will sometimes slip through your fingers. In haste, affy It is sure to have a great circulation. But I wish they wouldn't print the White Cross tracts with such very conspicuous & bright-colored flaring covers. It looks sensational -- what they call "loud:" Monday. Poor Mamma has caught a very heavy cold, the worst she has had for a long while; & I am afraid she wont be able to go to the annual meeting, or the hearings at the State House, or anything. It is most unlucky that it should have come just at this time. And yet the Alice Stone Blackwell. blessed goose-angel of a woman this morning stood in her chamber with the windows open on both sides, sweeping the snow off the sill with a little brush -- though her throat had been so raw all night she could hardly sleep. I caught her at it (brushing the snow off) & pounced upon her like a roaring lion, as you may suppose. And she will open the window to feed the little birds; & she will go out to the barn to get the eggs, & to give the horse a pail Dorchester, Mass. Jan. 31, 1886. My dear Kitty: Yours of Jan. 18 came yesterday. I hope I did not give you the impression that I thought Aunt B. was "buried" at Hastings. Not a bit. I should infinitely prefer it to London as a place to live. I think Miss Sprague is the first person I ever heard express any such idea. And how could you think that Aunt Ellen & I were the only members of the family on this side who took any interest in the work Aunt B. is doing? Surely Aunt Emily & my mother do; indeed, I think except Uncle G. & Papa, we all sympathize very sincerely. However, it is no matter. Only as Aunt Emily makes rather of specialty of cooperating with Mrs. Gibbons & Mr. Powell, it seemed odd you should forget hes wrote to tell us not to put it in if we didn't think it best, & expressing compunction for having asked us. I wanted mother to write to him that when the W. J. showed the white feather to that extent it would deserve to go to pieces; but she was tooI enclose her last letter. We have had a very busy week, the annual meeting, the hearings at the State House, & the Suffrage Sociable, all coming off together. One day, between two sessions of the meetings, we took tea with Hon. Samuel E. Sewall & his wife -- such nice old people. He is 86 or 7 -- I don't know her age, but she is as pretty as a girl, with her white hair & blue ribbons & slim little figure. She read us an extract from one of Mrs. Oliphant's stories, which is coming out as a serial in the Atlantic & spoke quite warmly of Mrs. Oliphant's stories. That reminds me -- did I tell you I am to prepare a paper on "The Heroine of the busy, & I didn't feel as if it would be quite the thing for me to write to Mr. P. to that effect. What you say about the Modern Novel," to read before the New England Women's Club? I quake a little, but hope to get through all right. My part at the suffrage meetings is to sit in the ante-room & guard the hats & cloaks, which sneak thieves are always on the alert to carry off. I take a novel with me to read, & don't dislike the post. Father torments me to sit on the platform; but I am always on tenterhooks if I do, for fear there will be some hitch, or something go wrong (though it is very seldom anything does) so I stick to the ante-room, to Mamma's mild & Papa's intense disgust. Papa hopes he has sold one of his houses. He is down there now, going over it with some people. pleasure of having just a quiet visit from a few nice people at a time, meets my ideas exactly. It is so muchAt the beginning of the week mother caught what promised to be a very bad cold indeed. It was the first time she had done it this winter, & just at the most inconvenient season. So she tried Emma's remedy, & fasted ferociously, taking only one meal in two days; and the cold went off so beautifully that I think she will be a convert to the fasting-cure for colds hereafter. She was not able to be at the meetings Tuesday night, but after that came to all of them, & to the hearings; & when she made her speech before the Legislative com- mittee she wanted to cry, & choked once or twice so that she had to stop for a time, in the course of her speech. She felt very much nicer than a party or a big reception, crush & jam & no comfort or undisturbed conversation. No news. Affy, Alice Stone Blackwell. Dorchester, Mass. Feb. 7, 1886. My dear Kitty: Father has sold both his houses, & is now planning to build four more. A few weeks ago he was lying awake at night in misery, calling himself all sorts of fools for having built any houses at all. I hope he will build only one, or at most two, at a time, so as not to be entirely crippled if they don't sell. No letters this week from M.V., Lawrence or El Mora. I enclose Aunt Emily's last. There is very little news. Last Monday I went out to the reception at Wellesley. It is always a pleasure to see the beautiful building, & the pictures - especially a big one representing the Rock of Gibraltar, - but reception's & big crushes are not especially agreeable. It is much pleasanter to No news. Affectionately, Alice Stone Blackwell.visit with one or two nice people at a time. Besides which, on my way to Wellesley I lost one of my delightful angora mittens, the warmest you ever saw, & not to be replaced; so I felt disreputable. And a certain Louise Imogen Guiney was there, a young Roman Catholic Democratic girl who writes poetry; I had wanted to see her for a long time; & Marion Talbot introduced me to her, & I had only one mitten, & was afraid she would think it was because I was a suffragist. However, all this will hardly interest you. Father & mother rode over to Emma's to-day. They report Laurie looking well, & rather plumper. He has gained half a pound. Dr. Smith is going to try electricity on him, but she does not feel much encouraged about him. Emma & Uncle G. are disappointed in Chauncy Hall; & I am sorry for it. For that would probably have made the difference of their deciding to settle near Boston or not. They have had quite an idea of doing so, because of the greater advantages of libraries & schools, & Harvard in prospect. In a few days Uncle G. goes to Orange for several weeks. I dined a few days ago with Drs. Smith & Colbertson. They have very cosey quarters, & are interesting women. But after all, one has to get one's chief recreation out of novels. Let me see what I have been reading. I saw Daudet's "Rois en Exil" highly praised, so I got that out of the library, though I knew I shouldn't like it. All his books are gloomy,disagreeable, pessimistic & horrid; & this was no exception. In disgust, I had recourse to the French translation of Scott again, & regaled myself with "Peveril du Pic." Then Mamie Molineux recommended me Paul Feval's books; & I am going through them; have read "L'homme de Fer," "La Fee des Greves," "Le Chevalier Ténèbre," & "Le Medecin Bleu." The first was the best; but they are all harmless (carefully revised & corrected for a Catholic library) & rather pretty -- stories having the scene laid in Brittany, & with a good deal of witchcraft & diablerie in them, which is fun. But they are Roman Catholic in religion & decidedly Tory in politics, which is objectionable. However, it is something to find some French stories that are not poisoned with the inevitable disreputable love affair. I think the author rather tries to copy the style of Scott; but he does not come up to Sir Walter, by any means. Dorchester, Mass. Feb. 14, 1886. My dear Kitty: Yours of Jan 27-9 was duly received. "Rebecca Jarrett" came safely by the same mail, & was received with joy. I could hardly refrain from it till evening, though I had lots to do. But a book of Mrs. Butler's would be like Whittier's poems- you can't read them with any comfort when you know you ought to be doing something else. It is amazing that you can get the Century so cheap. The subscription price on this side is $4.00 a year, & 70 cts extra for postage; whereas you get it for $1.44 a year, & 72 cts for postage! I shall enclose an order for $5., & ask you to reserve the balance & spend it for me for various English publications **put her quite out of countenance; she is very much loved, & she deserves it all & more; but it is in bad taste to praise people to their faces. If they are really nice, it makes them uncomfortable. Affectionately, Alice Stone Blackwell. P.S. If you**as I may send you word. For one thing, I want a couple more Lives of Mr. Stead. I sent mine to Mrs. Chace, & while she is a dear old lady, I don't believe she will ever re- member to send it back-though I particularly requested her to do so. Also, if you can by hook or by crook get hold of a copy of Mrs. Butler's New Abo- litionists, I wish you would buy it for me. I will pay whatever is necessary. We had two copies, but they have some- how most unaccountably vanished. I wrote to the Shield office, enclosing money, but they say it is out of print. If any of your friends have two copies, as we had, perhaps they would be willing to part with one. Do bear this "struggle with letters," just think how Miss Willard must suffer! She received by actual count about 1000 letters & postal cards everyTo K Barry (A.S.B. about her father.) Dorchester, Mar. 21, 1886 Father has not yet got back from Washington. We suppose he is at El Mora to-day. We were afraid our hearing was going to be a mortifying fizzle, for poor Mrs. Howe's daughter died unexpectedly so that of course she could not go, and Mother was siezed with an inopportune rheumatic attach which kept her at home, and Papa, after telegraphing madly to Mrs. Livermore, who was away down South somewhere, started for Washington accompanied only by little Miss Shaw, to represent the American Woman Suffrage Association. What made the prospect of fiasco particularly mortifying was that the National had just had a brilliant hearing where they had some 40 women from 23 states. Mrs. Livermore had not been heard from, and we didn't at all know whether she could come; so we felt rather blue. But Papa flew around after he reached Washington, and he got Ex-Governor Long, who is a capital speaker, and Mrs. Hunt, a great temperance woman, who is also a fine speaker, and the Congressional delegate from Wyoming, Mr. Carey, and others; and the Herald says they had a very good hearing Mother is filled with admiration and declares that Papa is a "wonderful man." And Mrs. Livermore was there too. Poor mother has been ill with sciatica for several days, and suffers much. She cannot rest in bed, and came down last night and sat in the big chair in the library. Alice Stone Blackwell (To Kitty Barry)Dorchester, Mass. March 28, 1886. My dear Kitty: Papa got home from Washington Tuesday morning, safe & sound. They had had a good hearing before the committee on Territories, though Mrs. Livermore was not there, as the paper incorrectly reported. Father saw the Spoffords of course. Monday. This letter will have to be cut short. Yesterday I had what seemed like a slight attack of mumps; this morning was worse, & the doctor was sent for. He says it is a violent sore throat, "a German cousin" to diphtheria, & has made me go to bed, to my great disgust. of his wedding cards. Affy, A.S. Blackwell. Don't be worried, I don't think I am much sick.He did not seem to think it dangerous; but it is uncomfortable not to be able to speak or swallow without pangs. Your letter of Mch 14-15 came this A.M. I am sending it to Emma by this mail. You will be glad to know that Aunt Ellen has rented her Rockaway house for the summer, June 15 to Oct, 15, for $500. Aunt Ey has rented her Orange house for 2 years, with privilege of purchase. Charley Spofford says he had a charming letter from you in acknowledgement Dorchester, Mass. May 2, 1886. My dear Kitty: The doctor says I can now write letters without fear of giving my friends scarlet fever; so here goes. Nevertheless, you had better not hold it too near your face. It is well to be on the safe side -- a thing I find it difficult to impress upon Mamma. Ever since Miss Duff left, I can not keep mother out of the room, though I am still peeling, & therefore dangerous to fellow creatures who have not "had it." She will come in, half a dozen times a day. I fumed & protested at first, but gave in, finding it no use; & now am waiting in anxiety to see if she will develop a sore throat. Her rheumatism keeps of pretty well, I am happy to say, in spite of east winds. of my skin wont finish peeling, so I have to stay in my room still, or scatter the danger of infection all over the house.Emma & the children have gone to Gardner. They don't care to go to the Vineyard quite so early, & there is a man in Gardner who does magnetic rubbing, & Emma says if the rubbing does not help Laurie, it cannot hurt him. Dr. Bradford recommends that Laurie be allowed to run about this summer, & gather all the health & strength he can, & then in the autumn be put into a frame. After seeing them to Gardner, Uncle G. came back & finished the packing up, & shipped various furniture & things to M.V., & then went to Orange. The baby at last accounts was recovering from her inflammation of the kidneys, but cross beyond description. Old Dr. Parker relieved their fears about her, said it was simply due to a cold, that he had worse cases of the same kind every month, & they all got well. We are very glad. Father says it would kill Uncle G. to lose that child. I don't think that; but it would almost break his heart. She is the very apple of his eye. My Uncle Bowman has [*The letter which your postal card announced (deferred by dentistry, you poor child!) is expected to-morrow. No special news. Yesterday was*] found a farmer & his wife at W. Brookfield who want a boy, & are willing to try Paul. I hope it will be arranged. Uncle Bo says they are good people, & would be kind to a boy. And it would be a great relief, I believe even to Aunt Ellen, & certainly to all the rest of the household, not to have him at M.V. He is not vicious, but disobedient, insolent & a great tease. Aunt Ellen is building a summer cottage at Rockaway. I enclose a letter which gives quite a graphic account of it. Later letters say that the frame is all up & they are beginning to wall in. She is very busy, buying, shipping, re- ceiving, &c. & keeping her carpenters in good humor, who don't like second- hand lumber, full of nails. She says, "I shall have done much to earn my house when I get through"-- poor Aunt Ellen! Has Aunt B. a copy of one of the old annuals containing a story by Aunt Ellen, "Solomon Deacon's First Ball"? Uncle Sam hasn't it, nor have we. She wants to copy it, with a little polishing & revision, & try for one of the prizes [*the 31st anniversary of father's & mother's wedding day. My trained nurse went away a week ago, & I have a good natured elderly*]woman who is not trained, but has nursed for years. She is very kind, but her twelve years' experience of nursing have not taught offered for stories by the Youth's Companion. The prizes are large, & tempting. Aunt Nettie, & I believe on or two of her daughters are also trying for them. It will be jolly if any member of the family succeeds, but I fear the chances are against it, as the competition is very great. I am very sorry about your siege with the dentist, my poor little Kitty. What was the particularly disagreeable piece of work you referred to? Was it filling a place at the base of a tooth where the gum had shrunk away? That is the most hateful thing I have experience of -- & I have three such places done already, & more coming; so if it was that, I can sympathize. I hope you didn't display your usual patience & fortitude until you silently fainted away under torture, as Aunt B. warned the N.Y. dentist that you were liable to do! Flo writes on such thick paper that I cannot enclose her letters, especially as the good child has been sending long ones to entertain my convalescence. I must copy extracts. Her last says: "I have been down to the bridge fishing this afternoon, & caught seven. It took most of my time for bait. Winks" (short of Billy Frank) "insists on having her children in the kitchen, & as fast as I carry them into the wood- house she drags them back, so I let her have her way, which Elliot does not approve of. I am beginning to look forward to the arrival of the Blackwell tribes, as they expect to come early. Nannie & Neenie will be young ladies this year, I suppose. Miss Clara Allen, Deacon Allen's sister, is dead-was buried last Tuesday, & it was the most beautiful, peaceful funeral I ever went to. She looked so calm & happy lying there, & the room was so quaint & old-fashioned, with a fire of logs in the old fireplace, & the row of old-fashioned oil lamps without chimneys above on the mantel-shelf. There were queer old chairs & a queer old clock, & as the only relative was a young nephew, the ladies were invited to sit in the room where the coffin was. Deacon Allen her not to wear creaking shoes in a sick-room. However, I am really so little sick now (though languid & lazy) that mine canhardly be called a sick room. I wish you could see the lovely spray of shad-blossoms Papa has brought me. Affy, Alice Stone Blackwell. sat up as straight as an arrow, but had to go & lie down before it was over, for he has been sick also. The Baptist minister, Mr. Nichols, officiated, & he talked beautifully. The neighbors all told each other how good & devoted she had been, & that if there had ever been a sincere Christian she was one, & the minister said "See how much better it was to live a life like hers & her brother's, & die so." He did not make it an occasion of mourning, but joy. I have begun to like that old grave-yard I knew so many of the people there, & violets & the ocean view make up for the neglect. Mr. Spofford has a brother & sister buried there. Mrs. Stewart is feeling a great deal better than she did, & is able to go out a little. The daffodils, the turtles, the Mayflowers & the flies have appeared in force. Father sent me a telescope, the one they had, & it is a great satisfaction to me. I watch the boats, the ships & the neighbors, with great interest & amusement. I think our Floy's letters get decidedly more womanly & thoughtful as she grows older, don't you? Elliot's cranberry bog is nearly done. Flo took Mrs. Stewart some dates as a present, & Mrs. S. had never seen any, & thought they ought to be stewed, like prunes! No further news from Aunt Emily. Father read his paper on Free Trade at the Mass. Club on Saturday, & it was very well received, & is printed in this morning's Herald. I am understood to be doing very well, but there are some patches Dorchester, Mass. May 16, 1886. Dear Kitty: It is a pouring rain, but I don't care having no particular interest in the P.O. to-day, since your letter (of May 3) came yesterday. It sometimes gets here on Saturday, sometimes Monday, sometimes Sunday morning. I suppose the mail steamer gets in a little earlier or later, according to the weather. When no letter has come on Saturday, I mildly nag Papa to go to the P.O. Sunday morning & inquire. Not when I am well, of course, for then I pass the P.O. myself on my way to church. I think you & Aunt B. may make your summer plans without regard to Aunt Ey; I don't think there is one chance in fifty of her going over. Last summer, one evening, she was taking her usual walk up and down the yard (the of business, so are the younger girls, interspersed with play. Agnes is to be advanced a year in her course, she & three other girls only, which is good news." I am still rather good for nothing, have been to ride twice, but it tires me & I feel worse rather than better after it. But I can clip papers, & walk in the garden, & even cutasparagus, besides writing an occasional editorial. But I feel lazy & ridiculous. Also the rheumatism in my knees, which has bothered me off & on for more than a year, rooms of the Cliff House not being large enough for promenading), & I came & walked with her; & we were talking about her giving up practice & coming to live near Boston, an idea which she has had more or less under consideration as a possible arrangement some time in the future. I urged upon her that she had worked long enough & hard enough to be entitled to retire & take things easy. And she said, in substance, that she did not see how she could, as her income, including that from her practice, only sufficed to meet her expenses. So I don't think she would feel as if she could afford the trip; but of course I don't know. It would be much better for Aunt B. to come over. She ought not to feel as if it would be a last farewell; for while it would probably be her last visit to America (as she dislikes the crossing so much), there is no certainty that any one of her relatives may not visit England, & a fair probability that some of them will, before many years. And I don't think she need fear finding her brothers & sisters changed, except that they have of course grown older. And she does not dread meeting them in England for that reason, for she is always urging them in the most cordial way to come over. She would find Uncle Sam just as saintly as ever, & Papa as fascinating & sinful, and Aunt Ey as sensible & dignified, & Aunt Em as kind- hearted & wrong-headed. Uncle G. is the only one who has changed much, & he has changed for the better. Everybody says he is much improved & humanized. By everybody, I mean all the members of the family whom I have heard say anything about it. It would be jolly if Aunt B. would come over, & the summer would be the best time, for it is at M.V. that the various branches of the family do their visiting. During the rest of the year we are all scattered & hard at work. Do put her up to come! Your letter speaks of very cold east winds, & the papers yesterday said there had been snow & hail in England. I am sorry comes back on east windy days & makes me grunt like an old lady when I get up or sit down. Still, I'm pretty well, & going to be all right again before long, I hope.I expect to go to M. V. about July - might go sooner but that Hattie Peiree is to be married the last week in June, and I wouldn't miss the wedding for a great deal. I wish you would go for the farmers. But at least they are free from these dreadful & unaccountable cyclones which swoop down on some of our western towns every now & then, and blow the strongest building to flinders in a jiffy. Our friend Christopher Jansen had the roof of his church in Minneapolis taken off the other day. No other church in the city was touched. It is particularly aggravating to him because the orthodox will regard it as a special judgment on the Unitarians. This is the second time a cyclone had wholly or partially destroyed his church. I have not heard from Aunt Ey for some time. In the middle of my illness she wrote saying that she supposed I could now have letters, & so she should send me a weekly line, but she has not written since. I began to be afraid she might be ill; but Uncle G. called there & reported all well; so I suppose it is pressure of spring work. I looking over a lot of old things, Mamma found the other day a couple of old pamphlets, "Medicine as a Profession for Women," containing a lecture prepared by Aunt B. & Aunt Ey, & delivered in Clinton Hall in 1859, & published at the request of the trustees, of the N. Y. Infirmary for Women; and a still older one dated 1856, "An Appeal in behalf of the Medical Education of Women," the appendix to which contains a lot of letters testifying to Aunt Emily's medical knowledge & moral respectability, from Dr. James Y. Simpson, M. Huquier, Clement Hue, Edward Rigby, Dr. Southwood Smith, & Wm. Jenner. It seems so funny! There is also a testimonial to Dr. Zack. Aunt B's testimonials from distinguished physicians are enumerated but not given. I suppose she was better known and didn't need them. Uncle G. has been having a siege with the dentist. He paid them a visit at El Mora, "laden with books for the children at M. V.," Agnes writes. Lovina has decided not to go to the Vineyard with Emma this summer. Emma writes: "So Abbie (Wheeler) and I are going alone, or perhaps more strictly I should say 'going it alone.' George views the prospect with some dismay, but he has promised to wear celluloid collars and bosoms, and to bring flannel shirt-waists for the little boys' and if we find that three grown people are inadequate to the care of themselves and three children I can send George over to New Bedford for to Ireland this summer, and tell us what you find. Papa and I are for Home Rule, but mother dislikes the Irish so thoroughly that she cannot take their part with any heartiness. an importation of help." It will make a great deal of difference in their comfort, Lovina was so exceptionally neat & trustworthy, & fond of the children. When I think how thin Emma grew last summer, & how big her eyes got, I dread her going down there with no servant except a half-in- valid "compensated companion" like Miss Wheeler. I'm afraid economy has something to do with her determination. However, we can't interfere. And she is so horribly afraid of those little boys learning anything bad that perhaps she is afraid of a strange servant. But I still hope she will reconsider. Mother's eyes are about the same, but she seems more reconciled to the trouble, & is as cheerful as usual - at least to all appearance. She thinks she can preside at the May meetings without her patch, by keeping one eye shut behind her spectacles. She has been practicing, poor Mamma, & finds that by a detemined effort of will she can walk straight, even with both eyes open. But as soon as her attention wanders she begins to stagger. The rain stopped & Papa went down to the P.O., & has just returned, bringing a card from Aunt Ellen, who says she feels rather shaky but is getting better. Mrs. Newton has got another boy; so there is an end to that plan for Paul. Aunt Ellen is very busy, but hopes her strength will hold out. He also brought a letter from Aunt Nettie, who says they are all fairly well. "Edith seems much as usual but is not strong or ambitious for work. Grace is full Affy, Alice Stone Blackwell. Dorchester, Mass. June 20, 1886 My dear Kitty: Father got home from Washington all right. Mr. Shofford was looking older & more worn; Harry & his wife were away on a visit; Florence Shofford was as sweet as ever. Papa stopped a couple of hours at Somerville El Mora, long enought to take supper. Ethel flew to meet him with enthusiasm. She & he take to each other by temperament. Flo & Elliot had been there two weeks, & Papa thought Elliot seemed as if he woul be heartily glad to get to work again; he had never been idle so long in his life. He (Papa) called on Aunt Emily, & found her looking very well. She is feeling rather bothered about Aunt Ellen's new cottage, Papa says. Aunt Em got into difficulties children value flowers, you know; & the generosity of the little thing, & her good pluck, almost upset me. I told her I had a bush of them at home, & would not rob her. She was a little diamond, though a dirty one. I wished afterwards I had thought to ask her name. I meant to enclose Agnes's letter from M.V. but it wouldcame to Aunt Ey in distress, saying that she had not even money enough to buy food, & must have $250. or thereabouts, at once. Aunt Ey lent it to her - with disgust unspeakable, no doubt; & then Uncle G. went to see Aunt Em, & lent her as much more. But he says it will take $1000. to finish the house. She has spent all her ready money in putting up the shell, & grass is growing on the ground floor. I felt afraid her money would give out before she could get it finished. No one who is not accustomed to building begins to realize what it costs. Mother found herself able to read with both eyes the other night, without seeing the letters double; she has also met somebody who once had the overweight postage. She writes: "Grace clipped Paul's hair quite short a day or two ago, & not being quite even it is rather suggestive of rats. I've been out water-color sketching with Aunt Ellen. We all went over to Uncle George's same trouble of vision, & has got over it; so she feels encouraged. But she tries easily, & feels unequal to undertaking things; I suppose it is age. I do wish I were a more capable & practical person to help her. Papa thinks he has a good prospect of selling one of his houses. That is all the family gossip that occurs to me, except what you will find in the enclosed letters. I went down to Providence again Tuesday, to see Annie Budlong married to Mr. Hersey. It was a pretty wedding, & a very pretty little bride, who declared she had never had such a good time in her life. She looked almost prettier in her brown travelling dress when she went away than in the white bridal costume with train & long veil. I could this morning, & Grace & I stayed all day & paddled home across the beach. It was high tide & we had a good deal of fun. Aunt Emma, Howard, Laurie & Miss Wheeler had been suffering with very bad colds. not help grinning during the ceremony, though- a most improper thing- but I thought she was laughing while she uttered the responses. I can't associate the phiz on top of her round roly-poly little figure with any expression but one of saucy mischief. And she certainly looked as if she were on the point of laughing, even if she wasn't. Cadge kindly kept me over night, & Dr. Sanford at dinner showered upon me ironical congratulations on my having remained so long unmarried, while so many, both old & young, were falling on every side of me. I wanted to tell him that every time I came to Attleboro & saw the lover- like way in which he treated Mrs. Sawford, it made me long to be I never saw the downs such a lovely soft yellow green, not at all brown yet, & the hillsides are covered with the smallest of wild strawberries. There is a strong wind from the sea to-day, & the married. But I didn't; it would have been rude, & besides might have hurt Cadge's feelings. Dr. S. is a domestic tyrant, & it makes me boil, & has for years, to see how he lords it over all his family & makes them wait upon him. He is also a great tease, & likes nothing better than to say what he thinks will make one uncomfortable. This time I only reminded him that he had led me to hope I might be the wife of Gen. Butler, & that after having once aspired to such a marriage as that, I could not think of taking up with any less remarkable man, as Miss Byron said in regard to Sir Charles Grandison. But if he ever begins upon me again, when Cadge & Mrs. Sanford are not by, I think I shall give breakers are roaring tremendously. Come down as soon as you can; the dear old Vineyard is a lovely place." It makes meit to him. He deserves it. Cadge has expectations of an infant, it is rumored. She hasn't said a word to Hattie Peirce or me, but she gave Julie a hint. And I am glad. Years ago, before Dr. Holden was heard of, Cadge confided to me one day that she felt sometimes as if she would marry "any old stick" who might ask her, just for the sake of having some children of her own. She is exceedingly fond of children; if we passed a child in the street, in our college says, she always saw it, while I went mooning by oblivious; & if we saw one crying, she would stop & comfort it; and it will be a great delight to her to have one of her own. And Julie had want to go, but I am in the hands of the dentist, & he wont be through with me for weeks. I doubt if I get to M.V. before the middle of July. been remarking to me that it seemed to her that doctors' wives generally had no children, & she feared Cadge would have none. Cadge & Dr. Holden have adopted a brown dog called Billy- full name, William Cameron Holder. Dr. Sanford says if he had known they would keep a dog, they would have had to elope, as he would never have consented to the marriage. Wednesday morning I came home from Attleboro. Thursday afternoon & evening I spent with the Bownes; Friday went to a picnic given in aid of the N. E. Hospital for women & children, & Saturday to a sort of lawn party- a suffrage party - at Judge Sewall's. So you see it has been a very dissipated week. Had a very nice time with the Bownes; the Professor, now that Papa calls us to go to ride. Goodbye. Affy, Alice Stone Blackwell.he has a garden, has gone into floriculture with enthusiasm. At the hosputal picnic, I fell in with Drs. Smith & Culbertson, & a knot of nice young doctors, who said I reminded them of Aunt Emily, & who were kind to me; I had a nice time. Coming home across Dover St. Bridge there was a little girl perhaps five or six years old- a mere mite-carrying a basket of wood much too heavy for her. I was walking her way, & offered to take it. She let me lift the weight of it off her, but kept one little arm through the handle - whether for fear I should make off with the basket, or with the idea of helping me carry it, I don't know. So we walked on side by side, both holding the handle; & she began to chatter in the frankest way; told me she had tumbled down & made her thumb bleed, & showed me the thumb - not at all as if wanting to be sympathized with, but evidently thinking it rather an adventure, & a mark of distinction. I advised her to suck the thumb, which she did. She had a bunch of mock orange & a few rose buds; & what did she do but divide her bouquet & offer me half! City Dorchester, Mass. July 11, 1886. Dear Kitty: On Wednesday I expect to start for M.V. Yesterday I burned a lot of papers left over from the scarlet fever time, among them several of your letters. It went very much against the grain to destroy them, but as I had them tumbling over the bed while I was "sealing", it was doubtless the only prudent thing to do. There were lots of nice things in them, too. I read them over again before consigning them regretfully to the grate. We had the thermometer standing at 94º in the shade for two or three days last week. Then the weather changed, & we lit a fire & cuddled up to it. Thermometer went down to 62º. Last night when I started for bed about 9, I asked Papa whether he was going to sit up, & whether I should put another stick on the fire. He said no; for sea-breezes, & stick to my intention of taking a camera down there- though it will cost my last cent + compel me to borrow of Papa. I need a rest though I feel mean to take it without him & mother. But I get tired with so little, & my& then sat up till 11.30 reading Bosworth Smith's Life of Lord Lawrence, with which he is greatly taken. Being reproached for perfidy, he said he got into the Indian Mutiny, & it became exciting, & so he sat up. Mamma's eye is very much better, & she has been feeling very happy over it. She could not believe it was possible for her to get well at her age, until she found herself actually doing it. She can now see all right when she looks straight before her, or to one side; but looking to the other side things are still confused. And when she goes out to pick thimble berries in the morning before breakfast, she puts out her hand for the berry & doesn't find it where she thought she saw it. But she is so mush better that she feels vastly relieved and encouraged. Her rheumatism troubles her, though & gives her bad nights. And both she & Papa are very tired, & greatly need a vacation It seems a mortal shame that I should go off for two or three months of complete holiday every summer, while they stay & grind on all the year. But this summer there are to be suffrage conventions at Nantucket & M.V., & mother means to go, unless some unlucky cold or fit of rheumatism prevents; & if she does go to Cottage City, she will probably go up to the other end of the island to visit the old places & stay a day or two with Emma. But she has a morbid horror of visiting her relations, regarding it as an imposition upon them even when they beg & entreat her to come. She herself finds company such a care that digestion upsets so easily, that if I don't go off & let the effects of the scarlet pass off in laziness, I shan't be able to do much; house rest is the best policy for the summer, & then take hold again in the fall, D.V., with a strong hand.she can't quite realize that everybody else doesn't feel the same way about it. She is determined not to be "a burden." Aunt Sarah, & Uncle Bo, & Emma, would any of them think it a real treat to have her spend a week with them, & invite her again & again; but she will very seldom go. I think when people invite you repeatedly & urgently - & are your "own folks"- it is only reasonable to suppose that they really do want you. And Papa has a mulish determination not to go without her, though he has opportunities for excursions in sundry directions, & it is a regular festival for his young nephews & nieces wherever he comes. Aunt Emily says that the Cushiers begin to smile all over their faces whenever there is talk of his making a flying visit to N.Y. However, it is very stupid of me to inflict upon you the curtain lecture which is due to my well beloved parents. Two cards have come from Flo. She says Elliot can't get any help with the haymaking for love or money, & is working himself to death. [This batch of paper, which I bought as thin & light, is a fraud; I find I can't enclose a letter of Aunt Emily's & must copy the items. Three sheets of this paper, without any enclosures, is all that will go - three sheets! what a humbug!] Well, Aunt Ey's letter was dated July 5, & she said: "I am detained, greatly against my will, in this smoking city by several items of work- repairs which have dragged out longer than I expected - a mortgage paid off in George's absence that has necessitated writing back & forth to M.V. - &c &c. But I have finally fixed upon Goodbye, mavourneen. I hope you will have a good vacation. Look out for the Squibnocket post mark on my next letter! Affy, Alice Stone Blackwell.the evening of July 13 as the latest possible date to which I will stay. Dr. Coushier & Miss Kerrison will go with me to the Vineyard. We expect to meet Drs. Linith & Culbertson at Oak Bluffs & all go up to Quitze together." I expect to go down with Drs. L. + C., it will be a general reunion, farring accidents. Aunt Fey goes on: "The two doctors go to Miss Muith, Dr. Coushier & Miss Kerrison to the Cliff House. Miss K. stays one week, & then goes to the White Mts. to join her family there. Her curiosity has been greatly excited to see the Vineyard, so I have asked her for a week. I am rather planning to put my Boston visit in Sept., when I take Cornelia to school. I am very sorry, though, not to come round by Boston and see your mother on my way, as she has been so unwell. Not that I can do so much but I always like to look in & see how you all are, & pick up the threads of interest when I start out. They seem to be having quite a jolly time (at M.V.). The girls wrote me that they were enjoying it greatly. I am going to take them a tennis set." I'm glad Aunt Fey is going to take them a tennis set. With that, & my camera & novels, & above all with the society of Agnes & Grace, Nammie and Cornelia will not find M.V. dull, as they are in danger of to do now that they are too old for mere childish play to fill their days. I think Aunt Ey looks forward with a little dread to the time when she may not be able to dispore of them for the summer at the Cliff House to their satisfaction any longer; for it is healthier, safer & much cheaper than an ordinary watering place. Also it is a pleasant place for her to go down to for a little while, & enable her to offer hospitality to Aunt Eliza & me, & to visit with Uncle George, & sometimes with Uncle Sam. In factmost of this family's visiting is done in summer & at the Vineyard. As for me, I like the Cliff House so much that if Aunt Ey ceases to engage it for the summer, I think I shall engage it myself. We are all sorry for the Tory victory in England. With your lively interest in politics, you must be made very wrathy these days. I wonder where you & Aunt B. are taking your holiday? Flo writes that poor Mrs. Stewart has taken to her bed, and cannot live long. She is out of her mind, & keeps thinking that Capt. Hillyard's family are starving, & that she has done something wicked. It is very sad that such a kind, excellent, self-sacrificing life should end in such gloom & distress. What a delightful change it will be for the poor little old lady when she dies, though - supposing that there is a next world & that good people get what they deserve there! No special news. I am beginning to thirst Chilmark, Cliff House, Martha's Vineyard, Mass. July 18, 1886 My dear Kitty: Does it seem natural to get a letter dated from this old house? Before I forget it, let me explain what must have puzzled you - the receipt of a Brooklyn Times with a number of articles & items marked, in which you found nothing especially interesting. Eo Putnam, in order to let me see the amount of miscellaneous work she does on the paper, sent me a copy with everything marked of which she was the author. She said I shouldn't care to read them, & I didn't particularly; but the quantity was surprising. Wednesday morning I left Boston with Drs. Smith & [*in the wind & wont keep still. So I set up the machine, & focussed it with care, & took views of the old barn & of Rover - thinking it best not to try humans until I had acquired some skill. Rover & the barn wont resent being caricatured, but the family might.*]Culbertson. We had to wait on the pier some time for the boat from New Bedford; & while it was yet a long way off we saw a white handkerchief waving wildly. We couldn't see who it was, but waved back on the chance that it was our party. After a good while one of the Drs. made out Dr. Cushier, & then I distinguished Aunt Emily. It was they who were waving. Aunt Ey is very far-sighted, you know; & she said that as soon as she caught sight of me on the pier she recognized me; she knew the "little gray figure" & the grin! They were all in high spirits, & had had one uninterupted jollification since they left N. Y. Aunt Ey gave it as her opinion that "a lark" was a very nice thing, & they all agreed with her. But Drs. Smith & Culbertson & I seemed to have brought bad luck on board [*Then in the evening I mixed up my chemicals, amid many jokes from Aunt Emily & the rest, & prepared "baths" in the tin pans, & carefully darkened*] with us. It grew rough, & the passengers began to put their heads over the side & make doleful noises, & stewards to run about with basins; & a girl came & sat down near our party & was very sick. Dr. Cushier hurried to assist her, & Miss Kerrison took her head in her lap, & I admired their humanity to a stranger, but found later that she was their own chamber maid Kate, whom they were taking down with them. It grew rougher & rougher, & one could not walk about without danger of being thrown down; & Dr. Cushier & Miss Kerrison grew sick - partly through the sight of Kate's sickness, I guess - & even Aunt Emily & I, who consider ourselves pretty good sailors, were very glad to get ashore. There Drs. Smith & Culbertson parted company with us, & went to stay for a couple of days with friends in [*my chamber, & lighted the Guy Fawksy red lantern, & went to pull out the plate from the plateholder with great care & caution - & lo! there was no plate there! I had supposed that the plate holder came to me with two plates ready in it but it seems that I was expected to*]Cottage City, & we came on up, in a carriage provided by Clement West the stage-driver. Aunt Emily drove, & Dr. Cushier & Miss Kerrison leaned back in the back seat, pale & miserable with the sea sickness, but unalterably sweet tempered & polite. They are very kind & amiable women. Kate rode in the baggage wagon. Our little horse was a good one to go, & the ride up the island was delightful. It was a gray day, so quiet on shore that you could hardly realize how rough it had been on the water. All the sweet smells were out in full force, & the road was edged with wild roses & elder blossom, & various beautiful little flowers whose names I don't know, & which I never see anywhere but here; and great clumps of a pink-& straw-colored lupine. One of the neglected roads slanting off from the highway toward the south was so grown up with these lupines that it looked as if it were paved with jewels. Young yellow pines are growing up all along the road; I think the seed must have been sown. It is rather a pity for they are not as pretty as the oaks. A fire had been through the woods (last fall, probably) & killed all the lower limbs, which were leafless; but a little foliage had come out at the tops; & it was curious to look into the woods ever so far, all a gray mist, with a light roof of leaves at the very top. The effect was spring-like, somehow. Before we reached Uncle G's "Great Desert Serpent," a carriage met us containing Nannie & Neenie, who hailed us with glee, & turned around & drove in front of us. And one minute Nannie would pop a blue-crested head out on one side of the carriage to look back at us, & then Neenie would pop a red-crested head out at the other. Aunt Emily asked them how they came there, & they said that they came to meet us, & that they had put them in, & I had been solemnly taking photos with an empty camera! The Vineyard air is certainly wholesome. When I first saw Aunt Emily on the boat, I was struck by her lookbeen riding all the morning. Where - upon she laughed & said that she should have a bill of a dollar to pay, later, in return for the delicate attention of being met. At the G. D. S., Emma & Uncle G. & Aunt Eliza & Agnes & Howard & the brown demure little Anna, all came down to the road to interview us. A bunch of 99 red bananas was following on the baggage wagon, which Uncle G. had ordered & Papa had expressed to him. It is for the party in honor of Howard's 10th birth- day, which comes off to-morrow. Emma has invited elven small children, all islanders except Paul, & it is expected that they will delight in the bananas, which will be a great novelty to them. Howard presented the most goblin-like ap- pearance of any child I ever saw. The crown of his straw hat was too large for him, & the hat came down over his forehead; he was as brown as a berry, & from under his hat his big black eyes blazed out at us, wide with excitement as he volubly told us about the sails he & Paul had been making for the boat, & looking as big as saucers. It was really startling. He seemed all eyes. Nannie & Neenie began to clamor to have Kate get into the carriage with them, & she did. But the cries for "Kate! Kate!" suggested Kitty, & made me think how all we children used to clamor for you when you came down to the island, & fight for a piece of you; & I couldn't help wishing Kitty had been in Kate's place. It made me homesick for you, & the Vineyard seemed only half the Vineyard without you. Well, when we got to the Cliff House there was a cordial reception, & Dr. Cushier & Miss Kerrison went straight to bed with sick headaches. Next day I trotted over to Flo's. She is very plump, & seems very well. She thinks she is stronger & better than last year. She despairs of the advent of Elliot Blackwell Mayhew, however. Grace was with her. She has plump cheeks & her usual lovely complexion, but is not really well, & both Florence & Agnes are worried about her. She is not strong, is of increased age. Her skin looked like that of an old lady. With every mile we drove, coming up the island, she seemed to grow younger. Now her skin is shiny, the wrinkles inconspicuous, & she looks again like a handsome middle-aged lady, as sheupset by any exertion, has a good deal of backache & is very nervous. She does not like to say much about her health, be- cause she looks so well & blooming that she is afraid people will think she is humbugging. She has saved up a hun- dred dollars - the only one of the girls who has saved anything to speak of - & just now she is much interested in writing. She writes both prose & verse, which her father & mother & Florence consider decidedly good. I have not seen any of [them] her writing yet. She & Aunt Ellen & Aunt Nettie have all tried for the Youth's Companion prize, each sending in two stories; & they are waiting with interest for the award of prizes. Grace's expectations are modest, however. She says she has no idea that she shall get a prize, but that she enjoys writing the things, & her parents think it is good practice for her, even if they are never published. Yesterday when I went over to Flo's again, Grace was out making calls with Mrs. Poole. (Not Mrs. Horace, of course.) Flo says G. is a great favorite, "especially with the middle-aged ladies." Both she & Agnes have made some very pretty sketches of [*ought to. I think there is no particular news. Drs. Smith &*] the shore the best of which, to my uneducated eyes, seem as good as Aunt Ellen's. Indeed, Aunt Ellen says Agnes will soon surpass her. She is almost as enthusiastic about Agnes as about Anna Ella Carroll. But Agnes seems to be a universal favorite. She is radiantly handsome, & in the most perfect & bounding health. She was a picture, when she came out to meet us at Uncle G's as we stopped on the way; they all noticed it & spoke of it afterwards. Then she is very gay & vicacious, full of energy & the desire to do something, & with really brilliant gifts; & very good-natured & obliging. When she met us, I was more than ever struck by her resemblance to her father. As Aunt Ellen says, she is a handsome likeness of Uncle Sam. I am afraid Gracie feels a little overshadowed by her stronger & more brilliant sister. Nannie & Neenie are too young & thought- less to scruple about showing their partiality for Agnes; & whenever Grace's sketches or any of her doing are men- tioned, the immediate cry is - "Ah! but you should see Agnes's!" Of course one can't help liking some people [as] better than others (though I myself like G. fully as well as Agnes); but it does [*Culbertson arrived at Miss Smith's last night, but I have*]seem to me that it is inconsiderate to show a strong preference for one of two sisters - especially when the other is of so affectionate & sensitive a disposition as Grace. Aunt Ellen has simply fallen in love with Agnes. Mind you, Grace hasn't said a word to me, & this is pure conjecture. But Aunt Ellen told me G. had fits of crying, & she suspected it was about young Hodge. So I asked Flo how the Hodge affair was coming on, & she gave me to understand that the matrimonial "understanding" had ended, by mutual consent, but the two remained friends. I asked why they had broken it off, & Flo said she thought G. had not confidence enough in his ability ever to do anything, & had come to the conclusion that it was best for her not to marry or, at all events, not to marry him. She seemed to think it was G's own doing, & that she was not distressed about it. So I thought the fits of crying might possibly be due to a re- alization of her feeble health, combined with seeing the children clinging to Agnes as they used to to her - when they were not tormenting her. The second day of my stay I went over to Emma's. I saw a silver bearded gentleman hoeing diligently in his garden, with a great appearance of satisfaction, that was Uncle G., who looks just as usual. Venturing into the big cool house, I found my way upstairs, & there was Emma sitting on the side of the bed rubbing Laurie's back with one hand, & holding in the other Higginson's Young People's History of the U.S., out of which she was hearing Howard his lesson. She has a very good gift of teaching, & Howard begged for more when the lesson was ended. Then Laurie had to go through his reading lesson, & he was restless & fretful, & squirmed about like an eel; but stimu- lated by the knowledge that I had brought him something, & that it was downstairs, he turned to, & read through a page of one-syllabled words very well. Emma went on rubbing & teaching for an hour or so, refusing to let me rub anything but his legs; she thought I couldn't be trusted with his spine. And poor little pipe-stem legs they are. However, she & Uncle G. think he is improving & Aunt Emily, who saw him yesterday thinks so too. Nevertheless, the care of such a restless, pretty little inva- lid must be a constant strain; & yet, Emma is going have a birthday party, [not seen them yet. Dr. Cushier's lungs are troubling her, & the weather is foggy, which is vexatious to Aunt Emily as] [hostess. I am pleasantly surprised to find how little it tires me to walk over to Flo's & back, but am taking pains not to overdo. And] [it is a distinct convenience to be lean, in walks about the island, you]& had a little dinner party yesterday for Aunt Ey & Dr. Cushier, (& Miss K. only she was not feeling well enough to go), & is going to have another for Drs. Smith & Culbertson & me; & has agreed to take two "fresh air children" into the bargain. And however many worriments there may be, she always keeps pleasant & even tempered. I told her she was a saint & a martyr, & ought to be canonized; & she laughed - her big eyes twinkling with fun out of her thin face - & said she was "canonized." Agnes says Emma [took] does her best to get Laurie to eat, but he has almost no appetite. Aunt Eliza is there - making some very pretty pink & blue wedding slippers [from] for a friend. They have set up a pair of scales, & they weigh all their visitors (I weigh 109 3/4) & weigh themselves before & after meals, & are up to all sorts of cantrips. Emma says she has know Uncle G. to weigh two pounds more after dinner than before. She also says that two glasses of milk weigh a pound. And Uncle G. takes a cynical pleasure in detecting, by means of his own scales, which of his neighbors have sold him false weight. He has found out all sorts of things about neighboring scales. Yesterday I tried my photographic camera for the first time, as it was a comparatively still day. You can't photograph trees & things when they are waving about [*can slip between fence rails so easily. I hope you are having a pleasant vacation. Affy, Alice Stone Blackwell.*] Alice Stone Blackwell Cliff House, Squibnocket, Mass (About Drs. V Smith & Culbertson) Monday, July 19, 1886. My darling little Mother: It was foggy all day yesterday, to the great disgust of Aunt Emily, who feels herself, as hostess, almost personally responsible. However, I started out toward noon for Florence's & [was] found the fog light & warm & not very wet. It brought out all the sweet smells, & the walk across the downs in it was as pleasant as if the weather had been clear. Part way over, I heard myself hailed, & saw threedim figures in the mist, waving umbrellas at me. It proved to be Drs. Smith & Culbertson & their friend Miss Watson, all in high glee. [M] Dr. Smith was in a gray gymnastic suit with trousers, trimmed with red, & cut all sorts of capers, with squeaks & squeals like a school girl escaped for a holiday. Dr. Culbertson had on a straw hat & striped flannel jacket, & looked like a handsome gipsy. Miss Watson is blonde & thin & mild, & has travelled to all sorts of places, & compared the cliffs at Stonewall Pt. to the bluffs of the Nile, and lamented that there were not as many shells here as she found on the coast of Tyre & Sidon. She is a pleasant little person, not at all formidable. I dined at Flo's, & helped myself five times to her apple sauce. It tastes as if just made, though of course it was canned. Elliot was asleep on the lounge with an apron over his head to keep the flies off. He did not wake for an hour or two; had been overworking, I'm afraid. Flo says he is bent on going to the suffrage meeting at Cottage City, & on taking his whole family. Father Mayhew came in, & asked if Papa was coming down this summer, & hinted that a cruise to some "Cove" would be pleasant. Afterwards Flo & Grace & I joined Aunt Emily, Dr. Cushier & Miss Kerrison on the beach. They had been visiting the other doctors, who find them selves pretty well off at Miss Jemima's, & sufficiently well fed. It is decidedly the best place for boarders to stay. There is no news. I am well. Shall be glad from home. Try to take things easy, darling dee. Don't forget the Pilot & the Sunday Times Democrat. With much love, Alice Stone Blackwell. P.S. I have written a civil letter to Mrs. Stanton, in reply to hers, telling her that I was absent, & so could not meet Mrs. Blatch. I addressed her as "Dear Madam." Rather cool of her, I think!