sions to Indians, financial matters, etc. To her, as to her father, there was nothing unseemly in a woman using any talent with which she was endowed, or transacting any business which she had the ability to do well.

No record has been kept of the waifs and strays who found refuge in the Gibbons house. In her weekly visits to the Tombs, there was a continual demand made on Mrs. Gibbons's sympathies. One day, it was little Nell" who put her hand confidingly in that of the kind-faced woman and said in pleading tones :

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"Won't you be my mudder?"

She was taken home to stay until she could be suitably adopted. Again, it was the child of an unfortunate Home woman and on such an occasion, when one of these was sitting at Mrs. Gibbons's knee with her patchwork, the child's mother came to the door to ask for her. Presently,

the child was heard to say:

"I heard a wice (voice) and it said, 'I want my child.

66 Do you want to go?" asked Mrs. Gibbons.

"No," was the answer, and the little creature proceeded to relate her experiences in her wanderings with her mother, telling how, in one grogshop, she exchanged her petticoat for a drink; in another, her apron; and so on; until she was arrested and taken to a Station House.

Sometimes it was a woman who had committed murder had shot her betrayer. Sometimes, a poor young girl who had been led astray.

Once, an elegantly dressed lady came to see Mrs. Gibbons, requesting that her name should not be asked. After conversing with her for a few moments, Mrs. Gibbons said:

“I must insist upon knowing who thee is."

The stranger burst into a flood of tears and presently asked:

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Do you remember, in one of your visits to the Tombs years ago, finding a young girl dressed in boy's clothes?"

"Yes," was the answer.

"What did you do with her?"

"I sent her to the country to learn to braid straw. Afterwards, I wrote to her uncle who took her home."

"I am that girl."

Then came the story of the return to her uncle's home, of subsequent poor health and a visit to Newport where she made the acquaintance of her husband; of her telling him the whole story of her hairbreadth escape; of his wishing to marry her, and their "only unhappiness" being that she had never been to thank the kind friend who had rescued her in time to save her from misery. She finished thus:

"My husband is a banker of this city; he knows Mr. Gibbons well and we are liable to meet in society at any time."

"Let us never refer to this subject again," said her friend, and they never did.

Again, it was a young girl of sixteen who had attempted the crime of abortion and whom a humane

young physician had found in a Station House where she had passed the night. She seemed not like the ordinary run of such unfortunates, and "if Mrs. Gibbons would go to Court and offer to take her under her protection, she might be saved from certain destruction."

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There were enough of these tales to fill a book, for no one ever went empty from her door. One more was that of Ha Home" woman often in the employ of Mrs. Gibbons. All the week she worked well, but when Sunday came and there was comparatively little to do, her ruling passion got the better of her and she regularly walked off with something belonging to the house. Before she reached the corner of the street, conscience whispered in her ear and she stopped the first person she met, man or boy, and begged him “for God's sake, to carry that parcel to Mrs. Gibbons." The "parcel" might be a pair of old overshoes or a worn out basket; never anything of value, and sure to be returned.

After an experience of years, Mrs. Gibbons sent her to service in Connecticut, where she outgrew her old propensities, became a perfectly honest woman, and employed the very class to which she had belonged; often sending twenty dollars' worth of sewing at one time to be done at the Home."

Increasing age obliged Mrs. Gibbons to withdraw more and more to the quiet of her home, but she kept up her interest to the end, as will be seen, in the various works of charity in which she had been engaged; she took a keen interest in political

matters and liked to discuss these subjects with the friends who were wont to come in the evening to have the pleasure of her kind and cordial greeting, and to enjoy her bright and sensible conversation, for age brought no failure of mind or heart. The busy hands were usually occupied with knitting, or with the exquisite embroidery which her friends know so well. A sonnet addressed to her by her son-in-law, has given a beautiful picture of her lovely old age.

A

CHAPTER XVI.

1857-1859.

JOHN BROWN.

FEW weeks before the " raid," which took

place on the 16th of October, 1859, John Brown passed an evening at the Gibbons house, and confided to Mrs. Gibbons the full particulars of his plan for the uprising at Harper's Ferry. While sympathizing with the end he had in view the freeing of the slaves-Mrs. Gibbons felt convinced that the scheme was not practical. In the course of the conversation, she inquired of him what he intended to do with the women and children. In a voice full of tenderness, he replied: 66 Not hurt a hair of their heads."

With her characteristic regard for the secrets of others, she did not speak of this interview, even in her own family circle, and her surprise was not less than theirs, when the newspapers gave an account of the attack on Harper's Ferry.

At the time of the riots in '63, a "John Brown pike" stood in the corner of the Gibbons parlor.

GEORGE L. STEARNS TO MRS. GIBBONS.

"Boston, May 18, 1857.

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I must write to you, what I could in person explain much better.