He was the author of "The Squibob Papers" and of
"Phoenixiana; or Sketches and Burlesques," either of which would
worthily place him in the forefront of humorists in the history of
American literature. I own a copy of the latter book which was given by
the author to my husband. It seems strange, when one considers the
character and career of this gifted man, that subsequent to his death
nearly every member of his family should have met with a tragic end.

Although not a practical joker, my husband found much in Derby that was
congenial, as many of their tastes were similar. Both of them were
devoted to literature and both were accomplished writers; but while
Derby published his works and was rewarded with financial success, Mr.
Gouverneur wrote chiefly for the newspaper press. He edited and
published a work by James Monroe, entitled "The People the Sovereigns,"
but never sent to the press any works of his own production. I think
that the lack of encouragement from me was the chief obstacle that
deterred him from embarking upon a literary career. He commenced several
novels but never finished them, and his chief literary remains are
principally confined to the limits of his "commonplace-books."

President Buchanan's niece, Harriet Lane, subsequently Mrs. Henry
Elliott Johnston of Maryland, presided with grace and dignity over the
White House during her uncle's administration. I first met Miss Lane
before the period when Buchanan represented the United States at the
Court of St. James. It was at a party given by Mrs. Hamilton Fish,
whose husband was then a U.S. Senator from the State of New York. Her
blond type of beauty made an indelible impression upon me, as she was
very much the same style as the daughters of General Winfield Scott.
Some years before her death, while she was living in Washington, I
incidentally referred to this resemblance between the Scotts and herself
and was not surprised to hear her say that others had spoken of it. To
an exceptionally fine presence, she added unusual intelligence and
brilliant power of repartee. I have often heard the story that at a
social function at the White House an accomplished courtier was
enlarging to Miss Lane upon her shapely hands--"hands," he ejaculated,
"that might have swayed the rod of empire." Her retort came without a
moment's hesitation, "or wake to ecstasy the living lyre." Emily
Schomberg, who married Hughes Hallett of England, wrote some years ago a
charmin