... Enclosed is a check for $50, one for each year of your life. Will agree to give you the same pro rata sum on your one hundredth, birthday. With love, your brother,
D. R. Anthony.
There will be among those who sympathize with and rejoice in your labors, no lack of testimony tonight to their persistency and value; but from one who deplores both, you will perhaps be willing to hear a hearty, cordial, admiring expression of the regard he is nevertheless forced to cherish for the sincerity and the unmistakably disinterested devotion which has marked your long and hopeful work in the cause you hold so dear and serve so faithfully. I can not wish you the success you seek—let me give you this better wish, that the anniversary your friends celebrate tonight may never bring fewer tokens of regard than now, and never find you seeming less the faithful worker "of cheerful yesterdays and confident tomorrows." With renewed congratulations I am, very cordially yours,
Whitelaw Reid.
I could not be where I longed to be last evening, where I could look upon the toilworn face of the true, tried and never found wanting—the one of all others who has borne the heat of the day, and that without wilting or complaining ever hopeful and ever pursuing "the even tenor of her way." Absence shall not keep from thee my mite, and how I wish it were ten, yes, twenty times as much, but here it is with my love, respect and genuine friendship. Be of brave heart and believe that I am thy fast friend,
Abby Hopper Gibbons.