“The Cretans? Who in h—l are the Cretans?”
In spite of the splendid struggle made by the brave inhabitants of the island, they were at last obliged to go back under barbarian rule. But it was only for a time. My father did not live to see Crete freed, but we, the children of the Philhellene, rejoiced and were exceeding glad when the hated Mohammedan yoke was thrown off.
The Cretan episode had one very unexpected result. Among my father’s helpers in Athens was a young Greek, Michael Anagnostopoulos. When he was asked what payment he desired for his services, he replied:
“What do you receive for yours, Doctor Howe?”
“Nothing,” said my father.
“Neither do I wish to be paid,” the young Greek answered. But he did want to see America!
He returned with the family to Boston, where, after mastering the difficulties of the English language, he became Doctor Howe’s assistant at the Institution for the Blind. In the year 1870 he married sister Julia, succeeding to the directorship after my father’s death in 1876.
We were all made happy by the purchase of No. 32 Mount Vernon Street, soon after the return of the family from Europe. This residence, on the top of Beacon Hill, was spacious and pleasant.
The preceding owner was a maiden lady with a great fondness for cats. They were not included in the bill of sale, but hung about the place. Cats seemed to be our fate!
As I had not fully recovered my strength, a room on the ground floor was allotted to me, so that I need not climb the stairs. A furnace burning wood was put into the house as being more wholesome than anthracite coal.