During those early years the Chautauqua sessions were strenuous weeks to both Miller and Vincent. Mr. Miller brought to Chautauqua for a number of seasons his normal class of young people from the Akron Sunday School, requiring them to attend the Chautauqua normal class and to take its examination. He acted also as Superintendent of the Assembly Sunday School, which was like organizing a new school of fifteen hundred members every Sunday, on account of the constant coming and going of students and teachers. But Mr. Miller's time and thoughts were so constantly taken up with secular details, leasing lots, cutting down trees, and setting up tents, settling disputes with lot holders and ticket holders, and a thousand and one business matters great and small—especially after successive purchases had more than doubled the territory of the Assembly,—that he was able to take part in but few of its exercises. One out of many perplexing situations may be taken as a specimen. In one purchase was included a small tract on the lake-shore outside the original camp ground, where some families from a distance had purchased holdings and built small cottages, being independent both of the camp-meeting and the Assembly. Some members of this colony claimed the right of way to go in and out of the Assembly at all times, Sundays as well as week-days, to attend lectures and classes without purchasing tickets. Others in the older parts of the ground under camp-meeting leases declared themselves beyond the jurisdiction of new rules made by the Assembly trustees. A strong party appeared demanding that the lot owners as a body should elect the trustees,—which meant that the future of a great and growing educational institution should be shaped not by a carefully selected Board under the guidance of two idealists,—one of whom was at the same time a practical businessman, a rare combination,—but by a gathering of lot-holders, not all of them intelligent, and the majority people who were keeping boarding-houses and were more eager for dollars than for culture. I remember a conversation with the proprietor of one of the largest boarding-houses who urged that the grounds be left open, with no gate-fees or tickets; but instead a ticket-booth at the entrance to each lecture-hall, so that people would be required to pay only for such lectures and entertainments as they chose to attend! I could name some Assemblies calling themselves Chautauquas, where this policy was pursued; and almost invariably one season or at most two seasons terminated their history.

Added to these and other perplexities was the ever-present question of finance. The rapid growth of the movement caused a requirement of funds far beyond the revenue of the Association. Its income came mainly from the gate-fees, to which was added a small tax upon each lot, and the concessions to store-keepers; for the prices obtained by the leasing of new lots must be held as a sinking fund to pay off the mortgages incurred in their purchase. There came also an imperative demand for a water-supply through an aqueduct, a sewer-system, and other sanitary arrangements made absolutely necessary by the increase of population. In those years Mr. Miller's purse was constantly opened to meet pressing needs, and his credit enabled the trustees to obtain loans and mortgages. But despite his multitudinous cares and burdens, no one ever saw Mr. Miller harassed or nervous. He was always unruffled, always pleasant, even smiling under the most trying conditions. His head was always clear, his insight into the needs not only of the time but of the future also was always sure, and his spinal column was strong enough to stand firm against the heaviest pressure. He knew instinctively when it was wise to conciliate, and when it was essential to be positive. The present generation of Chautauquans can never realize how great is their debt of gratitude to Lewis Miller. The inventor and manufacturer of harvesting machines at Akron and Canton, Ohio, busy at his desk for eleven months, found the Swiss Cottage beside Chautauqua Lake by no means a place of rest during his brief vacation.

Nor were the burdens upon the other Founder lighter than those of his associate. The two men talked and corresponded during the year regarding the coming program, but the selection, engagement, and arrangement of the speakers was mainly Dr. Vincent's part. At the same hour, often half a dozen meetings would be held, and care must be taken not to have them in conflict in their location and their speakers. Changes in the program must often be made suddenly after a telegram from some lecturer that he could not arrive on the morrow. New features must be introduced as the demand and the opportunity arose,—the Baptists, or Methodists, or Congregationalists, or Disciples desired a meeting, for which an hour and a place must be found. The only one who kept the list of the diversified assemblages was Dr. Vincent. He had no secretary in those days to sit at a desk in an office and represent the Superintendent of Instruction. His tent at the foot of the grounds was a stage whereon entrances and exits were constant. Moreover, the audience was apt to measure the importance of a lecture by the presence of Dr. Vincent as presiding officer or a substitute in his place introducing the speaker. The Vincent temperament was less even and placid than the Miller; and the Assembly of those early years generally closed with its Superintendent in a worn-out physical condition.

And it must not be forgotten that Dr. Vincent like his Associate Founder was a busy working man all the year. He was in charge of the Sunday School work in a great church, supervising Sunday Schools in Buenos Ayres, and Kiu-kiang, and Calcutta, as well as in Bangor and Seattle. At his desk in New York and Plainfield he was the editor of nine periodicals, aided by a small number of assistants. Several months of every year were spent in a visitation of Methodist Conference setting forth the work, and stirring up a greater interest in it. He was lecturing and preaching and taking part in conventions and institutes everywhere in the land. Chautauqua was only one of the many activities occupying his mind, his heart, and his time.

The Assembly of 1878, with the inauguration of the C. L. S. C., had been especially exhausting to Dr. Vincent. Imagine, if you can, his feelings when he found his desks in the office and the home piled high with letters concerning the new movement for Chautauqua readings all the year. He was simply overwhelmed by the demands, for everybody must have an immediate answer. Walking out one day, he met one of the teachers of the High School, told her of his difficulties, and asked her if she could suggest anyone who might relieve him. She thought a moment, and then said:

"I think I know a girl of unusual ability who can help you—Miss Kate Kimball, who was graduated from the High School last June, and I will send her to you."

She came, a tall young lady, only eighteen years old, with a pair of brown eyes peculiarly bright, and a manner retiring though self-possessed. Dr. Vincent mentioned some of the help that he required, but looked doubtfully at her, and said, "I am afraid that you are too young to undertake this work."

She answered, "I would like to try it; but if you find that I am not equal to it, I will not be offended to have it given to some other person. Let me see if I can help you even a little."

That was the introduction of Miss Kate Fisher Kimball to the work and care of the Chautauqua Literary and Scientific Circle, of which she was the Executive Secretary until her death in 1917. She was born in 1860, at Orange, New Jersey, her father, Dr. Horace F. Kimball, being a dentist with office in New York. Young as she was, she at once showed rare abilities in administration. Under her vigorous and wise efforts, the C. L. S. C. was soon reduced to a system, the members were classified, the course was made orderly, circulars of various sorts were prepared and sent out to answer as many kinds of questions, and the calls from all over the nation, almost all over the world were met. Kate Kimball had a wonderful memory, as well as a systematic mind. Dr. Vincent would tell her in one sentence the answer to be sent to a letter, and twenty sentences in succession for twenty letters. She made no note, but remembered each one; would write to each correspondent a letter framed as it should be, with a clear statement, of just the right length, never getting the wrong answer on her pen. And if six months afterward, or six years, there came a letter requiring the same answer, she did not need to ask for information, but could send the right reply without consulting the letter-file. Thousands of correspondents who may never have met her will remember that signature, "K. F. Kimball," for they have been strengthened and inspired by letters signed with it.

I have heard more than one person say, "I want to go to Chautauqua, if it is only to become acquainted with K. F. Kimball."