goods, &c.; but this did not relieve me. I entered the omnibus again,
speculating constantly on what I should do next; when a thought suddenly
dawned upon me. Might not the people in the Home for the Friendless be
able to give me advice? I had hardly conceived the idea, when I determined
to ride directly up there, instead of stopping at the street in which I
lived. I thought, besides, that some employment might be found for my
sister Anna, in which she could learn the English language, for which she
had evinced some talent, while I had decided that I could never become
master of it. I had seen the matron, Miss Goodrich, once when I called
there on Catherine S. She had a humane face, and I was persuaded that I
should find a friend in her. I was not mistaken. I told her of my plans in
coming here, and of our present mode of life and prospects; and confided
to her my disappointment and dejection, as well as my determination to
persevere courageously. She seemed to understand and to enter into my
feelings, and promised to see Dr. Elizabeth Blackwell, whom she advised me
to call upon at once.

I went home full of the hope and inspiration of a new life. Dear Mary, you
can hardly comprehend the happiness of that morning. I was not suffering,
it is true, for the necessaries of life; but, what was far worse, I
suffered from the feeling that I lived for no purpose but to eat and to
drink. I had no friends who were interested in the pursuits towards which
my nature inclined; and I saw crowds of arrogant people about me, to whom
I could not prove that I was their equal in spite of their money. My
sisters had not seen me so cheerful since our arrival in America, and
thought that I had surely discovered the philosopher's stone. I told them
of what I had done, and received their approbation.

On the morning of the 15th of May,--the anniversary of the death of Dr.
Schmidt and of my greatest joy and my greatest misery,--we received a call