My father presided and made a brief speech:
“I knew hundreds of them [the Cretans]—good men and true. I had been in their beautiful island, had stood a siege with them in one of their beleaguered fortresses, and witnessed their courage.... I see them now, the sons of my old companions, in their snowy chemise and their shaggy capote, saying, sadly, ‘Good-by, mother! Good-by, sister and child! Seek your refuge in the neighboring isles, upon the main, wherever the hand of Christian mercy may aid you. We go to the mountains to keep the flag of freedom flying as long as we live!’ My friends, these unfortunate women and children are now suffering as many of their mothers suffered forty years ago. Your fathers and your mothers relieved them. Will you not relieve their children?”
Of course they would and did. Thirty-seven thousand dollars were raised, and in March, 1867, my father sailed for Greece, to be once more the almoner of American charity.
The Cretan refugees had been obliged to fly hastily, and were in a destitute, almost naked condition. The good women of Boston responded to this call by forming sewing-circles to make clothing for these exiles.
I inaugurated one among my young friends, but looked in vain for a president. I appealed to Emily Russell, who had held this office in a similar society.
“Why aren’t you the president yourself?” she suggested. The idea had not previously occurred to me, as I had had no experience. However, I accepted her advice, learning then that if you start an enterprise you must expect to take the responsibility on your own shoulders.
Just what kind of undergarments the women of the Orient wore we did not know. Fortunately for us, a circle of older ladies took the responsibility, cutting out for us pattern “togas” and “pajamas.” They were of unbleached muslin—or cotton cloth. The price of this had been seventy-five cents a yard during the Civil War, and was still very high in 1867.
We were merry over the naming of the garments and over their unusual shape. My mother, who assisted in the distribution of the clothing to the refugees at Athens, tells us that they were suitable in pattern and quality.
One or more of our meetings were held at the Institution for the Blind, where Laura Bridgman, despite her lack of sight and hearing, ran the sewing-machine for us.
The year 1867 and a good part of 1868 were largely occupied with work for the Cretan cause. My mother and sisters, Julia and Laura, accompanied my father to Europe, I having remained behind from choice. This was partly out of deference to the wishes of my fiancé and partly because I had not yet recovered from the strain received during the removal to Boylston Place.