on our bodies as well as our minds.

A later memory gives us a pretty glimpse of daily life as it went on
in that charming little Virginia town:

From the time we went to Lexington we all used to take delightful,
long rambles, rather to the surprise of Lexington people, who were
not quite so energetic. We found the earliest spring flowers on the
"Cliffs," and "Cave Spring" was a favorite spot to walk to (several
miles from town) stopping always for a rest at the picturesque
ruins of old "Liberty Hall."

"Liberty Hall" was the name of an old school building outside of
Lexington.

Writing reproachfully to a friend for not coming to visit her,
Margaret tells of the "sweet pure air of our Virginia mountains," of
the morning "overture of the birds," "such as all the Parodis and
Linds and Albonis in the world could never equal." She tantalizes her
friend with a glowing picture of a gallop "over misty hills, down into
little green shaded glens, under overhanging branches all sparkling
with silvery dew." She tells her that they might take a walk "to 'The
Cliffs,' to see the sun go down behind yon wavy horizon of mountains,
if its setting promised to be fine, and saunter back in the gloaming,
just in time to have coffee handed in the free and easy social
Virginia style in the library."

In Lexington, Margaret's first sorrow came to her, the death of her
brother Joseph, whose health had not improved with the change to
Lexington and who had been sent to Florida, where he found a "far-off