"The House of the Good Shepherd" in Baltimore.

Three daughters of Mr. and Mrs. Charles Carroll McTavish grew into
womanhood. The elder sisters, Mary and Emily, both of whom were well
known for their beauty and vivacity, entered upon cloistered lives. Just
as the two sisters were about taking this step, they made a request,
which caused much comment, to the effect that they should be assigned to
different convents. I understand that Mrs. McTavish, their mother, is
still living in Rome with the unmarried daughter. During Mrs. Scott's
residence in Paris she was invited to witness the ceremony of "taking
the veil" at a prominent convent, and writing to her family at home she
remarked: "How strange that human beings, knowing the fickleness of
their natures, should bind themselves for life to one limited space and
unvarying mode of existence."

Hoboken, or, as it was sometimes called, Paulus Hook, was a great resort
in my earlier life for residents of the great metropolis. We children,
accompanied by my father or some other grown person, delighted to roam
in that locality over what was most appropriately termed the "Elysian
Fields." Professional landscape-gardening had not then been thought of,
but nature's achievements often surpass the embellishments of man. Our
cup of happiness was full to the brim when we were taken to this
entrancing spot overlooking the Hudson River, with its innumerable
sloops, steamboats and tugs adding so much to the picturesqueness of the
scene. As we strolled along, we regaled ourselves every now and then
with a refreshing glass of mead, a concoction of honey and cold water,
purchased from a passing vender; and when cakes or candy were added to
the refreshing drink life seemed very _couleur de rose_ to our childish
dreams. Then again we made occasional trips up the river, but the
steamboats and other excursion craft of that day were of course mere
pigmies compared with those of the present time. The cabin always had a
large dining table, on either side of which was a line of berths. Guests
were called to dinner at one o'clock by the vigorous ringing of a large
bell in the hands of a colored waiter dressed in a white apron and
jacket. I have often thought how surprised and pleased this old-time
servant, universally seen in every well-to-do household in those days,
would be if he could return to earth and hear himself addressed as
"butler."

It was upon one of these trips up the Hudson that the wi