New England.—I am astonished at the wonderful system and workings of the C. L. S. C. It seems to me that this must be one of the most active agents for good extant, and its origination ought surely to be counted among the most progressive educational forces of the day. It was with some doubts and considerable apathy that I sent my name for enrollment among the students of the Circle, but I am now an enthusiast.

Massachusetts (Williamstown).—One year ago I began the Chautauqua course in connection with my regular college duties. While for me, a great part of the work was a review, I found that it served to clinch and make fast my previous knowledge of the subjects taken up, and also gave me much information that was new and not to be obtained in my college course. I have just entered on my senior year, and although I am very busy, I shall keep up my C. L. S. C. work, believing that any time I can take to devote to that, will be spent to the best possible advantage. To one who has the advantages of a college education the C. L. S. C. course furnishes a valuable auxiliary and material aid, while to those denied this advantage, it furnishes a means of education surely second to none, save perhaps the few best colleges. My purpose is to graduate and then to pursue some of the extra courses as I have time. With best wishes for the success of the “People’s College,” and of every true Chautauquan, I am yours, respectfully, etc.

Massachusetts.—I have nearly all of last year’s books to read up, but I am not one bit discouraged. I am behind from various causes; with a large family and many cares, and a great deal of church and temperance work, and foreign mission work to do, and a house full of company all last year, it kept me behind. But this year I shall make up and graduate in ’84, all in good time.

Maine.—I am a poor farmer’s daughter, and motherless. I have wished very much to go to some good school and graduate, but I am an only daughter and therefore must be my father’s housekeeper, and you cannot tell how glad I was to learn of the C. L. S. C. I shall try to complete the reading and study for this year if possible.

Vermont.—We are two years behind the class of ’83, but hope to be able to catch up and finish with that class. We are not discouraged, though laboring under difficulties. I shall never cease to be grateful for the C. L. S. C., which is giving pleasure and profit to so many thousands.

New York.—I have been for years a confirmed invalid, never leaving my room unless carried out, and unable to sit even in a reclining chair, but a short time. During these long, weary years, reading, and listening to reading, has been the one great pleasure left me. Having my attention directed, a few months since, to the list of required readings for the C. L. S. C., the thought presented itself to me that, in place of desultory reading, I might substitute a regular course, as I think there are but few days pass when I do not read at least forty minutes, still I dare not pledge myself to even that length of time regularly, and can only promise to do the best I can.

Illinois.—For six weeks I have been very sick. Through it all I have continued my reading. Of how much value the past year’s reading has been to me it would be impossible to tell. But there are books in the library that have never been opened by me before, thinking they were too deep or dry until the beautiful “Mosaics,” printed in that valuable paper, “The Chautauquan,” touched the spring of curiosity and sent me searching through them from lid to lid.

A member writes: Five years ago I walked into an unguarded opening in the sidewalk and fell ten or twelve feet, causing spinal trouble, since which time I have not been able to ride or walk, until within the past year. I walk around my room some, and hope to entirely recover. I suppose I simply should have said, “I am an invalid,” but I don’t like the word, for I do try to make myself useful. I have a little private C. L. S. C. school in my room mornings, and find plenty to occupy my time.

New York.—A mother, whose daughter (also a member of the class of ’82) died last year, writes: “The diploma is a gem, weighted with meaning in the illustrations; and now I only regret that I was not more interested in the diploma, and had it on regular parchment. My husband was pleased with it, and wished me to have it framed and hung beside my son’s and daughter’s—the one from Harvard, the other from Fort Edward Institute. My son, who is an enthusiastic educator, sent his congratulations, saying: ‘Not many have received a diploma after being fifty-five years of age.’ But what afforded us all increased pleasure was the mistake of one of the initials, my own name being C. W. C., and my daughter’s being C. M. C. The name in the diploma is Mrs. C. M. C., so like the blending of our tastes and life pursuits. My son says: ‘The error of initials has increased the value of the diploma;’ and all of us so consider it. Well, she had commenced on the fourth year, and with quivering lip expressed a hope that she should live to finish the course. To her belongs the merit of inspiring her mother and others in this place, and her influence will continue. How appropriate that she shares in the diploma that I doubly value for her sake!”

Miss Norton, secretary of the Pacific Coast Branch of the C. L. S. C., writes: “The outlook for the coming year seems very hopeful thus far, in our office work, especially in the letters from the outlying States and Territories. The seed sown last year seems to be bearing good fruit.”

New Mexico.—From Las Vegas, New Mexico, there comes this message: I am a member of the C. L. S. C.; marched with the circle at Rome City last summer; was at the banquet and camp-fire, and heard Dr. Vincent lecture before the circle. I would like to organize a circle in New Mexico; send me papers and all the help you can for the work.

Indian Territory.—From the Wa-la-ka Creek nation, Indian Territory, a writer says: “We have a family of one hundred and twenty Indian youth and teachers. Can we become members of the C. L. S. C.?” The answer is, Yes. Thus the work is spreading into every State and Territory, and into many foreign nations.

California.—With my three little children and quite an extensive poultry business to look after, I have very few idle moments. Hence my failure to keep up with my class was unavoidable. I have enjoyed the course of reading more than I can express, though I am not at all satisfied with my year’s work. It troubles me sometimes to remember what I have read. I am very anxious to take up the Greek course. I have been trying to get some of my neighbors interested in the C. L. S. C., but do not succeed, so I am plodding on alone. I think you are doing a noble work, and the end is not yet. I will close in the language of Tiny Tim, “God bless us every one.”

West Virginia.—How much we have enjoyed the course of reading! We really did not study: had time only to go over once. One would read aloud, while the other sewed; and we would not take anything for what we learned. Mother would often ask, “Well, how much do you remember of all you read?” I often thought it was like the Centennial—we were there a week. Of course we can’t remember half we saw, and yet we have a pretty good idea of what was there, and what we saw; enough to make it a pleasure and a profit to think of. And so about the books we read. Perhaps we couldn’t answer one question in ten you’d ask us in Roman history, and yet we have a distinct idea of the way the people lived, of the characters of Julius CÆsar, Sulla, Nero, etc. We have a beautiful cat named Pericles, who was a kitten when we were reading history of Greece; and we had one named Antonius when reading Roman history, but he wasn’t nice, and we gave him away.

Illinois.—An Illinois miss writes: I am running all to music, and found some time ago that my thoughts were altogether too narrow for the music, and if I can branch out more, get new thoughts, and strange ones, I can stand up straighter in other ways. This is a great, strong, rough world, and it takes a strong heart and lots of courage. I am only a girl.

Maryland.—One of the most charming domestic scenes is reported to us from the “Bird’s Nest,” in Maryland, where there are several members of the Circle. A good woman, who is the light of the house, writes: There have been days when I could not study at all, but the shells that I was able to gather as I stood on the shore, helped me to listen to the waves as they came in from the other side of the great sea of knowledge, from away back before the coming of Christ. And I have learned that there is no god like our God, for he knoweth that we have need of this mind-furnishing. I feel sure that the C. L. S. C. has come to be one of the corner-stones in our home. Jesus Christ, I hope, is the chief corner-stone. Does not our Bible tell us that “every wise woman buildeth her house?” Does she wish to know how? “Through wisdom is a house builded, and by understanding is it established, and by knowledge shall the chambers be filled with all precious and pleasant riches.” I pray God that every mother may belong to the C. L. S. C. When I began my studies in October last, I soon felt I wanted my husband to study with me. Thus far in our married life we had always gone hand in hand together. I felt almost as if we were being separated. I did not urge the matter, because I saw that he felt that for me it would be impracticable. The more I studied, the more I felt it was right for me to keep on; that I could help them all in the home better by so doing. Last evening, after reading the Chautauqua Herald (we have taken it all through the course this summer), my husband laid down the paper and said: “My dear, I am going to join this Circle; and Nellie (turning to our daughter), you must join it, too, and we will all help each other in the home.” All my heart went out to God in thankfulness. * * * Last Sabbath was my birthday, and my two nieces and daughter told me on Saturday evening that I must not go into the dining-room Sabbath morning until the bell rang for breakfast. Accordingly, when the bell sounded, my husband escorted me to the dining-room. The table was beautiful with its linen, its basket of pears, peaches, and grapes in the center, and the lovely saucer bouquet at my plate. Just beside my chair was a flower stand that father had made for me, and each shelf was laden with presents for me from the dear ones, not excepting my honored, faithful, colored servant. In the bay-window were the words, “Happy Birthday,” in phantom letters. When we were seated at the table, my husband asked a blessing. Each of us then recited a verse of Scripture, as is our usual custom. Just then my father handed my husband a paper, which he opened and read. It was a sweet little poem which he had written, closing with the words:

I think I never had anything move me so. I just bowed any head and thanked my Heavenly Father.

Ohio.—Since I began to study in the C. L. S. C., I have spent a summer in England and Scotland. Thanks to you and Green, I was thoroughly steeped in English history and literature, which made every place alive with interest. At Oxford did we not wander along the lovely Isis where Addison loved to walk, to ponder, and study? and did we not revel in a mild way under the solemn shade of the venerable trees, and gaze with intense interest at the manuscripts and books of the Bodleian Library? and did we not hear Gray’s Elegy in that very country churchyard? Then, too, we made a pilgrimage to Canterbury,

“The holy blisful martir for to seeke.”

There were six of us, and we were all of one mind. We crossed the border and made a short tour through Scotland, which included a visit to unfrequented Ayr,

and to Kirk Alloway, where poor Tam saw such a bewitching sight. The last weeks of the summer were spent in the English lake district, and long shall I remember the wonderful pictures seen from our windows at Keswick: mountains blue and hazy, and again with wreaths of vapor creeping up the sides and capping the summits, or perhaps clouds hanging in pillowy masses over them; and there in the sunlight was the Greta, rippling waves and leaping just as it enchanted Southey, and if I had not known about him, it would have been nothing to me. If there is a paradise upon earth, it must be at Grasmere and Rydyl, sacred with the memory of Wordsworth. There is nothing to disturb the serene, charming place. We sat by the clear, noisy Rothay, and wandered through Grasmere churchyard, where Wordsworth is buried. Dorothy lies beside him. The clergyman intoned the evening service in the church as if it were a tedious affair, and we were glad to be through with it. Maybe he did not think it worth while to be slow and solemn, as there were only five worshippers. May it be your good fortune some day to see the old creature known as guide to the principal fall of Rydyl. As she painfully hobbled along on her cane, she grew quite garrulous over her recollections of the past. H. asked her whether she ever read his poems. “Seeing him and knowing him,” said she, “is a better memory than reading his poetry.” To the C. L. S. C. is due much of the pleasure of the summer. Through the C. L. S. C. I received the first impulse to study systematically at home; and it is my desire to have my gratitude take a substantial form. I remember the scholarships you referred to that Commencement Day. Inclosed you will find ten dollars, which is my contribution for such a scholarship. It is my way to make acknowledgment of what the C. L. S. C has done for me.

Ohio.—The Madison Chautauqua Circle lost a valued member, by the death of Mary E. Galpin, on October 8, 1882. In the summer of 1878 she visited Lake Chautauqua. Having intellectual tastes, she soon became interested in the founding of the “People’s College.” On her return home, in her quiet and unobtrusive way, she endeavored to enlarge the Chautauqua Circle by awakening an interest among her young friends. In the summer of 1880 she visited Chautauqua, and enjoyed the Round-Table talks within the shade of the “Hall in the Grove,” and while watching the first C. L. S. C. camp-fire, Mary’s zeal and enthusiasm seemed to kindle anew. Those who have been closely associated with her know of her unabated interest, and somewhat of the disappointment she experienced in not being able to realize her long-cherished hope of being at Chautauqua on that memorable Commencement Day. In the providence of God she was prevented from passing under the triumphal arches at Chautauqua, but she was greatly gratified when she received her diploma, and expressed her determination to secure the white seal. “But it is not for man to direct his steps.” A few weeks after, wearing the white rose of a pure life unfolded by all-sufficient grace, and upheld by filial devotion, without a murmur, with a smile on her face, she passed through the golden gate into the heavenly city.