lectured at the large academy there--not much opportunity for rest in
such a building. My room was just off the music room where duets were
being executed, and a little further on girls were taking singing
lessons, while a noisy little clock-ette on my bureau zigzagged out
the rapid ticks. At the evening meal I was expected to be agreeable,
also after the lecture to meet and entertain a few friends. When I at
last retired that blatant clock made me so nervous that I placed it at
first in the bureau drawer, where it sounded if possible louder than
ever. Then I rose and put it way back in a closet; no hope; at last I
partially dressed and carried it the full length of the long hall, and
laid it down to sleep on its side. And I think that depressed it. In
the morning, a hasty breakfast, because a dozen or more girls were
waiting at the door to ask me to write a "tasty sentiment" before I
left, in their autograph albums, with my autograph of course, and
"something of your own preferred, but at any rate characteristic."

My trips to those various towns taught me to be more humble, and to
admire the women I met, discovering how seriously they had studied,
and how they made use of every opportunity. I remember Somersworth,
New Hampshire, and Burlington, Vermont. I lectured twice at the Insane
Asylum at Concord, New Hampshire, invited by Dr. Bancroft. After
giving my "newspaper wits" a former governor of Vermont came up to
shake hands with me, saying frankly, "Miss Sanborn, your lecture was
just about right for us lunatics." A former resident of Hanover, in a
closed cell, greeted me the next morning as I passed, with a torrent
of abuse, profanity, and obscenity. She too evidently disliked my
lecture. Had an audience of lunatics also at the McLean Insane Asylum,
Dr. Coles, Superintendent.

I think I was the first woman ever invited to make an address to