t of white flowers, in which the
year our Greeley was born, and the present year, were woven with bright
red flowers. Down each side the feathery vines trailed and quivered. I
tell you, sisters, it was beautiful.

Before I could take in a full view, people had found out where I stood,
and came crowding round me so close that I had to take in a reef of my
pink silk dress, and they kept Cousin Dempster busy as a bee introducing
them. So many people had read my writings, so many people had been dying
to see me, it was enough to bring blushes to my cheeks and tears to my
eyes. This, said I, is fame--and all Vermont shall hear of it, not for
my sake, but in behalf of the Society.

The rooms had been full of music all the time, but now the toot horns
and fiddles stopped, and I heard the tones of a pianoforte from the
further end of the room, then a voice struck in--loud, clear, ringing.
We pressed forward, people made way for us, and we got into the ring.

A young lady was standing by the pianoforte, singing "Auld Lang Syne."
Greeley stood by her, holding her bouquet in his hand. How smiling, how
satisfied he looked as the heart-stirring old song rang over him! Close
by stood his only sister, Mrs. Cleveland, a fair and real handsome
woman, dressed in blue silk, with a white lace shawl a-shimmering over
it. She looked happy as a blue jay on an apple-tree bough, and made
everybody welcome over again when Mr. Greeley had done it once--just as
a kind, warm-hearted woman ought to stand by a brother she is proud of,
and looks like.

Near by were her two daughters, just the nicest girls you ever saw. One
of 'em in a pink satin dress with lace over it, and the other in blue
satin with lace--just lovely!

When the lady who did "Auld Lang Syne" went away from the pianoforte,
every lady in the room began to clap hands, they seemed to be so glad
that Mr. Greeley had found time to have a birthday. Then Miss Cleveland,
in the blue dress, sat down, looking sweet and modest as a white dove;
and she sang, too, real sweet; and then the people began to clap hands
again. It seemed as if music just set them off into tantrums of delight
because our great white-headed Vermonter had ever been born.

I joined in with a vim; for if there is anybody I like and am proud of,
it is the man who was standing there smiling among his friends, with
that great, lovely bunch of flowers in his hands, and a little one in
the button-hole of his coat.

The w