I must return to my school days. After several years spent at Miss Forbes's my parents decided to afford me greater advantages for study, and especially for becoming more proficient in the French language, and I was accordingly sent to Madame Eloise Chegaray's institution, which for many years was regarded as the most prominent girls' school in the country. It was a large establishment located on the corner of Houston and Mulberry Streets, where she accommodated boarding pupils as well as day scholars. Many years later this building was sold to the religious order of the Sacre Coeur. The school hours were from nine until three, with an intermission at twelve o'clock. The vacation, as at Miss Forbes's, was limited to the month of August. The discipline was not so rigid as at Miss Forbes's, as Madame Chegaray, who, by the way, taught her pupils to address her as Tante, governed almost entirely by affection. She possessed unusual grace of manner and great kindness of heart, and her few surviving pupils hold her name and memory in the highest esteem. Her early history is of exceptional interest. She was a daughter of Pierre Prosper DÉsabaye, and came with her father and the other members of his family from Paris to New York on account of his straitened circumstances, caused by an insurrection in San Domingo, where his family owned large estates. Madame Chegaray commenced as a mere girl to teach French in a school in New Brunswick, New Jersey, kept by Miss Sophie Hay, and was retained on account of the extreme purity of her accent.

I chance to have in my possession Madame Chegaray's own account of her early struggles after leaving Miss Hay, from which I take great pleasure in quoting:

Many well-known women were educated at this school, and one of the first pupils was Miss Sarah Morris, the granddaughter of Lewis Morris, the Signer, and the mother of the senior Mrs. Hamilton Fish. A younger sister of Mrs. Fish, Christine, who many years later was a pupil of Madame Chegaray, and who is now Mrs. William Preston Griffin of New York, ministered to Madame Chegaray in her last illness, and told me that her parting words to her were, "Adieu, chÈre Christine, fidÈle amie." In spite of her extreme youth Madame Chegaray took an exceptionally serious view of life, even refusing to wear flowers in her bonnets or to sing, although she had a very sweet voice. She dearly loved France, but she was a broad-minded woman and her knowledge of American affairs was as great as that of her own country. She rounded out nearly a century of life, the greater part of which was devoted to others, and I pay her the highest tribute in my power when I say that she faced the many vicissitudes of life with an undaunted spirit, and bequeathed to her numerous pupils the inestimable boon of a wonderful example.

All the teachers in Madame Chegaray's school were men, with the single exception of Mrs. Joseph McKee, the wife of a Presbyterian clergyman. Among those who taught were John Bigelow, who is still living in New York at an advanced age, and who in subsequent years was Secretary of State of New York and our Minister to France; Thatcher T. Payne; Edward G. Andrew, who became in the course of years a Bishop in the Methodist Church; Professor Robert Adrain, who taught mathematics, and who at the same time was one of the faculty of Columbia College; and Lorenzo L. da Ponte. The latter was a man of unusual versatility, and was especially distinguished as a linguist. He taught us English literature in such a successful manner that we regarded that study merely as a recreation. Mr. da Ponte was a son of Lorenzo da Ponte, a Venitian of great learning, who after coming to this country rendered such conspicuous services in connection with Dominick Lynch in establishing Italian opera in New York. He was also a professor of Italian for many years in Columbia College, the author of a book of sonnets, several works relating to the Italian language and of his own life, which was published in three volumes. Mr. Samuel Ward, a noted character of the day, the brother of Mrs. Julia Ward Howe and who married Emily Astor, daughter of William B. Astor, wrote an interesting memoir of him. Madame Chegaray taught the highest classes in French. "If I had to give up all books but two," she was fond of saying, "I would choose the Gospels and La Fontaine's Fables. In one you have everything necessary for your spiritual life; in the other you have the epitome of all worldly wisdom."

When I entered Madame Chegaray's school she had about a hundred pupils, a large number of whom were from the Southern States. How well I remember the extreme loyalty of the Southern girls to their native soil! I can close my eyes and read the opening sentence of a composition written by one of my comrades, Elodie Toutant, a sister of General Pierre G. T. Beauregard of the Confederate Army—"The South, the South, the beautiful South, the garden spot of the United States." This chivalric devotion to the soil whence they sprang apparently was literally breathed into my Southern school companions from the very beginning of their lives. Their loyalty possessed a fascination for me, and although I was born, reared and educated in a Northern State, I had a tender feeling for the South, which still lingers with me, for most of the friendships I formed at Madame Chegaray's were with Southern girls.

My first day at Madame Chegaray's, like many other beginnings, was something of an ordeal, but it was my good fortune to meet almost immediately Henrietta Croom, a daughter of Henry B. Croom, a celebrated botanist of North Carolina, but who, with his family, had spent much of his life in Tallahassee. Many are the pleasant hours we spent together, but to my sorrow she graduated at an early age, and a few months later embarked, in company with her parents, a younger brother and sister and an aunt, Mrs. Cammack, upon a vessel called the Home for Charleston, South Carolina, where they had planned to make their future residence. When they had been several days at sea their vessel encountered a severe storm off Cape Hatteras, and after a brave struggle with the terrific elements every member of the family sank with the ship within a few miles of the spot where the Crooms had formerly lived. This occurred on the 9th of October, 1836. They had as fellow voyagers a brother of Madame Chegaray, who, with his wife and three children, had only just left the school to make the voyage to Charleston. They, too, lost their lives. Over Madame Chegaray's school as well as her household at once hung a pall, and gloom and mourning prevailed on every side; indeed, the whole city of New York shared in our sorrow. The newspapers of the day were filled with accounts of this direful disaster, but there were few survivors to tell the tale. My late playmate, Henrietta Croom, was one of the most popular girls at school, possessing great attractions of both mind and person, and, although at the time she was merely a child in years, the New Year's address of a prominent daily newspaper of the day contained an extended reference to her which strongly appealed to my grief-stricken fancy. Though more than sixty years have passed I have always preserved it with great care in memory of the "sweet damsel" of long ago. The following are the lines to which I have just referred:

The Croom family owned large plantations in the South together with many slaves. A short time after it was definitely known that not a member of the family had survived, there was a legal contest over the estate by the representatives of both sides of the household, the Crooms and the Armisteads. Eminent members of the Southern bar were employed, among whom were Judge John McPherson Berrien of Savannah and Joseph M. White of Florida, often called "Florida White." After about twenty years of litigation the suit was decided in favor of the Armisteads. It seems that as young Croom, a lad of twelve, nearly reached the shore he was regarded as the survivor, and his grandmother, Mrs. Henrietta Smith of Newbern, North Carolina, his nearest living relative, became his heir. I have always understood that this hotly contested case has since been regarded as a judicial precedent.

A few days after receiving the news of the shipwreck of the Home, I found by accident in my father's library an Édition de luxe, just published in London, of "Les Dames de Byron." In it was an illustration entitled "Leila," which bore a wonderful resemblance to my best friend, Henrietta Croom. Beneath were the following lines, which seemed to suggest her history, and the coincidence was so apparent that I immediately committed them to memory, and it is from memory that I now give them:

Another schoolmate and friend of mine at Madame Chegaray's was Josephine Habersham of Savannah, a daughter of Joseph Habersham and a great-granddaughter of General Joseph Habersham, who succeeded Timothy Pickering as Postmaster General during Washington's second term and retained the position under Adams and Jefferson until the latter part of 1801. She was one of Madame Chegaray's star pupils in music. She frequently made visits to my home, remaining over Saturday and Sunday, and delighted the family by playing in a most masterly manner the Italian music then in vogue. A few years after her return to her Southern home she married her cousin, William Neyle Habersham, an accomplished musician. For many years they lived in Savannah in the greatest elegance, until the Civil War came to disturb their tranquil dreams. Two young sons, both under twenty-one, laid down their lives for the Southern cause during that conflict. After their great sorrow music was their chief solace, and they delighted their friends by playing together on various musical instruments.

New Orleans was represented at our school by a famous beauty, Catharine Alexander Chew, a daughter of Beverly Chew, the Collector of the Port of New Orleans, and whose wife, Miss Maria Theodosia Duer, was a sister of President William Alexander Duer of Columbia College. He and Richard Relf, cashier of the Louisiana State Bank, were the business partners and subsequently the executors of the will of Daniel Clark of the same city, and it was against them that the latter's daughter, Myra Clark Gaines, the widow of General Edmund Pendleton Gaines, U.S.A., fought her famous legal battles for over half a century. Miss Chew married Judge Thomas H. Kennedy of New Orleans and left many descendants. The sister of General Pierre G. T. Beauregard, Elodie Toutant, whom I have already mentioned, was also from Louisiana. She was a studious girl, and a most attractive companion. The original family name was Toutant, but towards the close of the sixteenth century the last male descendant of the family died, and an only surviving daughter having married Sieur Paix de Beauregard, the name became Toutant de Beauregard, the prefix de having subsequently been dropped.

Still another friendship I formed at Madame Chegaray's school was with Elizabeth Clarkson Jay, which through life was a source of intense pleasure to me and lasted until her pure and gentle spirit returned to its Maker. She was the daughter of Peter Augustus Jay, a highly respected lawyer, and a granddaughter of the distinguished statesman, John Jay. She was a deeply religious woman, and died a few years ago in New York after a life consecrated to good works.

One of the brightest girls in my class was Sarah Jones, a daughter of one of New York's most distinguished jurists, Chancellor Samuel Jones. She and another schoolmate of mine, Maria Brandegee, who lived in LeRoy Place, were intimate and inseparable companions. The mother of the latter belonged to a Creole family from New Orleans, named DÉslonde, and was the aunt of the wife of John Slidell of Confederate fame. The Brandegees were devout Roman Catholics, while the members of the Jones family were equally ardent Episcopalians. Archbishop Hughes of New York was a welcome and frequent visitor at the Brandegee house, where, in my younger days, I frequently had the pleasure of meeting him and listening to his attractive conversation. In this manner Sarah Jones also came into contact with him. Deeply impressed by his teachings, she followed him to the Cathedral, where she soon became a regular attendant. In the course of time she became a member of the Roman Catholic Church, and a few years later entered the order of the Sacre Coeur, at Manhattanville, where she eventually became Mother Superior and remained as such for many years.

Quite a number of years ago I was the guest of the family of Charles O'Conor, the distinguished jurist and leader of the New York bar, at his handsome home at Fort Washington, a suburb of New York. He was the son of the venerable Thomas O'Conor, editor of The Shamrock, the first paper published in New York for Irish and Catholic readers, and also the author of a history of the second war with Great Britain. One afternoon Mr. O'Conor suggested that I should accompany him upon a drive to the Convent of the Sacre Coeur a few miles distant. He was anxious to confer with Madame Mary Aloysia Hardey, who was then Mother Superior. I was delighted to accept this invitation, as Mr. O'Conor was an exceptionally agreeable companion and his spare moments were but few and far between. Before reaching our destination, I remarked that Madame Jones, an old schoolmate of mine, was an inmate of this Convent, and that I should be very glad to see her again. Upon our arrival, Sarah Jones greeted me in the parlor and seemed glad to see me after the lapse of so many years. Leading as she was the life of a religieuse, our topics of conversation were few, but I noticed that she seemed interested in discussing her own family, about whom evidently she was not well informed. After a brief visit and while homeward bound, Mr. O'Conor inquired whether Madame Jones knew that her father, the Chancellor, was rapidly approaching death. I replied that apparently she had no knowledge of his serious condition, and several days later I saw his death announced in a daily newspaper. Many years after my interview with Sarah Jones I met at the residence of Mrs. Henry R. Winthrop of New York an older sister of hers, Mary Anna Schuyler Jones, who at the time was the widow of the Reverend Dr. Samuel Seabury of the Episcopal Church. We lunched together, and the conversation naturally drifted back to other days and to my old schoolmate, her sister, Sarah Jones. She told me that she had seen but little of her in recent years, but related a curious episode in regard to meeting her under unusual circumstances. It seems that Mrs. Seabury, accompanied by a young daughter, was returning from a visit to Europe, when she noticed that the occupants of the adjoining state-room were unusually quiet. In time she made the discovery that they were nuns returning from a business trip abroad. Upon examination of the passenger list, she discovered to her astonishment that her sister, Madame Jones, was occupying the adjoining room. They met daily thereafter throughout the voyage, and afterwards returned to their respective homes.

I especially remember an incident of my school-life which was decidedly sensational. Sally Otis, a young and pretty girl and a daughter of James W. Otis, then of New York but formerly of Boston, was in the same class with me. One morning we missed her from her accustomed seat, but during the day we learned the cause of her absence. The whole Otis family had been taken ill by drinking poisoned coffee. Upon investigation the cook reported that a package of coffee had been sent to the house, and, taking it for granted that it had been ordered by some member of the household, she had used it for breakfast. The whole matter was shrouded in mystery, and gossip was rife. One story was that a vindictive woman concentrated all of her malice upon a single member of the family against whom she had a grievance and thus endangered the lives of the whole Otis family. Fortunately, none of the cases proved fatal, but several inmates of the house became seriously ill.

A few years before I entered Madame Chegaray's school, Virginia Scott, the oldest daughter of Major General Winfield Scott, enjoyed Tante's tutelage for a number of years. She was a rare combination of genius and beauty, and, apart from her remarkable personality, was a skilled linguist and an accomplished vocal and instrumental musician. This unusual combination of gifts suggests the Spanish saying: "Mira favorecida de Dios" ("Behold one favored of God!"). Her life, however, was brief, though deeply interesting. In the first blush of womanhood she accompanied her mother and sisters to Europe, and, after several years spent in Paris, made a visit to Rome, where she immediately became imbued with profound religious convictions. Through the instrumentality of Father Pierce Connelly, a convert to Catholicism, she was received into the Roman Catholic Church while in the Holy City, and made her profession of faith in the Chapel of St. Ignatius, where the ceremony took place by the special permission of the Most Rev. John Roothan, General of the Jesuits. General Scott meanwhile had returned to the United States, having been promoted to the rank of Commander-in-Chief of the Army with headquarters in Washington. Accompanied by her mother, Virginia Scott returned to America and, after a short time spent with her parents in Washington, drove to Georgetown and, without their knowledge or consent, was received there as an inmate of the "Convent of the Visitation." Her family was bitterly opposed to the step, more especially her mother, whose indignation was so pronounced that she never to the day of her death forgave the Church for depriving her of her daughter's companionship. General Scott, however, frequently visited her in her cloistered home, and always manifested much consideration for the Convent as well as for the nuns, the daily companions of his daughter. Although she possessed a proud and imperious nature, combined with great personal beauty and much natural hauteur, she soon became as gentle as a lamb. She died about a year after entering the Convent, but she retained her deep religious convictions to the last. She is buried beneath the sanctuary in the chapel of the Georgetown Convent. In connection with her a few lines often come to my mind which seem so appropriate that I can not deny myself the pleasure of quoting them:

I have heard it stated that during Virginia Scott's residence in Paris there existed a deep attachment between herself and a young gentleman of foreign birth. The story goes that in the course of time he became as devoted to his religion as he had hitherto been to the beautiful American, and that it was agreed between them that they should both consecrate themselves thereafter to the service of God. He accordingly entered at once upon a religious life. I have heard that they afterwards met at a service before the altar, but that there was no recognition. As intimate as I became with the members of the Scott family in subsequent years, I never heard any allusion to this incident in their family history, and I can readily understand that it was a subject upon which they were too sensitive to dwell.

Father Connelly, whom I have mentioned in connection with Miss Scott's conversion, began his career as an Episcopal clergyman. There was a barrier to his becoming a Roman Catholic priest, as he was married; but his wife soon shared in his religious ardor, and when he entered the priesthood she became a nun. He lacked stability, however, in his religious views, and was subsequently received again into the Episcopal Church. It was his desire that his wife should at once join him but she refused to leave the Convent, and she finally became the founder of the Order of the "Sisters of the Holy Child." I have heard that he took legal measures to obtain possession of her, but if so he was unsuccessful in his efforts.

Another one of Madame Chegaray's distinguished pupils was Martha Pierce of Louisville. As she attended this school some years before I entered, I knew of her in these days only by reputation. But some years later I had the pleasure of knowing her quite intimately, when she talked very freely with me in regard to her eventful life. She told me that upon a certain occasion in the days when women rarely traveled alone she was returning to Kentucky under the care of Henry Clay, and stopped in Washington long enough to visit the Capitol. Upon its steps she was introduced to Robert Craig Stanard of Richmond, upon whom she apparently made a deep impression, for one year later the handsome young Southerner carried the Kentucky girl, at the age of sixteen, back to Virginia as his bride. During her long life in Richmond her home, now the Westmoreland Club, was a notable salon, where the beaux esprits of the South gathered. She survived Mr. Stanard many years. Beautiful, even in old age, gifted and cultivated, her attractions of face and intellect paled before her inexpressible charm of manner. She traveled much abroad and especially in England. A prominent Kentuckian once told me that he heard Washington Irving say that Mrs. Stanard received more attention and admiration in the highest circles of English society than any other American woman he had ever known. She corresponded for many years with Thackeray, the Duke of Wellington and many other prominent Englishmen, and in her own country was equally distinguished. In the course of one of our numerous conversations she told me that after the death of Edward Everett she loaned his biographer the letters she had received from that distinguished orator. During the latter part of her life she gave up her house in Richmond and came to Washington to reside, where she remained until the end of her life. She left no descendants. Her husband's mother, Jane Stith Craig, daughter of Adam Craig of Richmond, was immortalized by Edgar Allan Poe, who, fictitiously naming her "Helen," paid feeling tribute to her charms in those beautiful verses commencing:

Among my other schoolmates at Madame Chegaray's were Susan Maria Clarkson de Peyster, a daughter of James Ferguson de Peyster, who subsequently married Robert Edward Livingston; Margaret Masters, a daughter of Judge Josiah Masters of Troy, New York, and the wife of John W. King; Virginia Beverly Wood, a daughter of Silas Wood of New York, who became the wife of John Leverett Rogers; and Elizabeth MacNiel, daughter of General John MacNiel of the Army and wife of General Henry W. Benham of the U.S. Engineer Corps.

After a number of years spent in teaching, Madame Chegaray gave up her New York school and moved to Madison, New Jersey (at one time called Bottle Hill), with the intention of spending the remainder of her life in retirement; but she was doomed to disappointment. Discovering almost immediately that through a relative her affairs had become deeply involved, she with undaunted courage at once opened a school in Madison in the house which she had purchased with the view of spending there the declining years of her life. Previous to this time I had been one of her day scholars; I entered the second school as a boarding pupil. Once a week we were driven three miles to Morristown to attend church. I recall an amusing incident connected with this weekly visit to that place. One Sunday a fellow boarder, thinking that perhaps she might find some leisure before the service to perfect herself in her lesson for the following day, thoughtlessly took along with her a volume of French plays by Voltaire. During the service someone in a near pew observed the author's name upon the book, and forthwith the Morristown populace was startled to hear that among Madame Chegaray's pupils was a follower of the noted infidel. It took some time to convince the public that this book was carried to church by my schoolmate without her teacher's knowledge; and the girl was horrified to learn that she was unintentionally to blame for a new local scandal. While I was at Madame Chegaray's I owned a schoolbook entitled "Shelley, Coleridge and Keats." I brought it home with me one day, but my father took it away from me and, as I learned later, burned it, owing to his detestation of Shelley's moral character. On one occasion he quoted in court some extracts from Shelley as illustrative of the poet's character, but I cannot recall the passage.

After two years spent in Madison, Madame Chegaray returned to New York and reopened her school on the corner of Union Square and Fifteenth Street in three houses built for her by Samuel B. Ruggles. At that time the omnibuses had been running only to Fourteenth Street, but, out of courtesy to this noble woman, their route was extended to Fifteenth Street, where a lamp for the same reason was placed by the city. Madame Chegaray taught here for many years, but finally moved to 78 Madison Avenue, where she remained until, on account of old age, she was obliged to give up her teaching.

While I was still attending Madame Chegaray's school, my father, under the impression that I was not quite as proficient in mathematics and astronomy as it was his desire and ambition that I should be, employed Professor Robert Adrian of Columbia College to give me private instruction in my own home. Under his able tuition, I particularly enjoyed traversing the firmament. I was always faithful to the planet Venus, whose beauty was to me then, as now, a constant delight. In those youthful days my proprietorship in this heavenly body seemed to me as well established as in a Fifth Avenue lot, and was quite as tangible. I regarded myself in the light of an individual proprietor, and, like Alexander Selkirk in his far away island of the sea, my right to this celestial domain there was none to dispute.

After the flight of so many years, and in view, also, of the fact that sometimes the world seems to us older women to be almost turned upside down, it may not be uninteresting to speak of some of the books which were familiar to me during my school days. One of the first I ever read was "Clarissa Harlowe" by Samuel Richardson. "Cecilia," by Frances Burney, was another well-known book of the day. Mrs. Amelia Opie was also a popular authoress, and her novel entitled "White Lies" should, in my opinion, grace every library. Miss Maria Edgeworth and Mrs. Ann Eliza Bray, the latter of whom so graphically depicted the higher phases of English life, were popular authoresses in my earlier days in New York. Many years later some of the books I have mentioned were republished by the Harpers. "Gil Blas," whose author, Le Sage, was the skilful delineator of human nature, its attributes and its frailties, was much read, and, in my long journey through life, certain portions of this book have often been recalled to me by my many and varied experiences. I must not fail to speak of the "Children of the Abbey," by Regina M. Roche, where the fascinations of Lord Leicester are so vividly portrayed; nor of another book entitled "The Three Spaniards," by George Walker, which used to strike terror to my unsophisticated soul.

When Madame Chegaray retired temporarily from her school life and moved to Madison in New Jersey, Charles Canda, who had taught drawing for her, established a school of his own in New York which became very prominent. He had an attractive young daughter, who met with a most heartrending end. On her way to a ball, in company with one of her girl friends, Charlotte Canda was thrown from her carriage, and when picked up her life was extinct. As there were no injuries found upon her body, it was generally supposed that the shock brought on an attack of heart-failure. Subsequently the disconsolate parents ordered from Italy a monument costing a fabulous sum of money for those days, which was placed over the grave of their only daughter in Greenwood Cemetery, where it still continues to command the admiration of sightseers. This tragic incident occurred in February, 1845, on the eve of the victim's seventeenth birthday.

While Madame Chegaray was my teacher there was a charming French society in New York, her house being the rendezvous of this interesting social circle. I recall with much pleasure the names of Boisseau, Trudeau, Boisaubin, Thebaud and Brugiere. Madame Chegaray's sister, Caroline, together with her husband, Charles BÉrault, who taught dancing, and their three daughters, resided with her. The oldest, Madame Vincente Rose AmÉline (Madame George R. A. Chaulet), taught music for her aunt; the second niece, Marie-Louise JosÉphine Laure, married Joseph U. F. d'Hervilly, a Frenchman, and in after life established a school in Philadelphia which she named Chegaray Institute; while the youngest, Pauline, married a gentleman from Cuba, named de Ruiz, and now resides in Paris.