During the World War I received from a stranger a request for an autograph letter of Uncle Sam’s for a private collection. I chose one from my treasured correspondence full of the warm charm of the man. It described a breakfast he had given for Sara Bernhardt and dwelt on his last gift to me, a certain web of glimmering yellow satin, reminding me that a blonde need not fear to wear yellow, as Paul Veronese and Rubens both painted fair-haired women in golden satins.
Shortly after I sent the letter off, I received two epistles from England, both bearing coronets. I quote from one of them.
27 Old Burlington St. W.
Dear Mrs. Elliott
I have just received from Mr. Louis C. May the very interesting autograph letter of Mr. Samuel Ward that you have so kindly given for the collection of His Majesty. It is a great addition and is greatly appreciated by Sir Dighton Probyn, who has been interesting himself in getting the collection together. Out of 1600 signatures there are only seven now outstanding, which will give you an idea of the success Sir Dighton has met with.
He has just written me that he is sending you a line of thanks for your courtesy. I take the opportunity of adding my own and remain,
Yours sincerely,
Fairfax.
June 13, 1917.
I was pleased that dear Uncle Sam’s letter was wanted for King George’s collection, impressed with the good manners that prompted the two gentlemen to take the trouble to acknowledge it, and cheered by this side light of the way the English “carried on” their peaceful avocations during that year of chaos, 1917.
CHAPTER VI
A Stay at the White House
The year 1867 brought changes. Hellas once more called my father to her aid. The insurrection of the Cretans against the Turk in 1866 was one of the most courageous struggles for freedom the world has seen. The American hero of the Greek Revolution kept in close touch with all that concerned Greek freedom. With Byron he had “dreamed that Greece might yet be free”; during his long life he never lost the vision, never failed to lend a hand to every effort for emancipation. The failure of the insurrection brought awful suffering upon the Cretan refugees, largely women and children. My father raised a considerable sum of money to invest in clothing and provisions, and in the winter of 1867 sailed for Greece, once again as Boston’s almoner to feed the hungry and clothe the naked. My mother, Julia, and Laura went with him, leaving Harry, a sophomore at Harvard, Florence, and myself at home.