reprove as necessity demands — this was her mission. In her own city, her social influence had been wide:- "When summer days were long, and she was bearing the burden and heat of the day as a young wife and mother, Mrs. Dorr's life was eminently quiet and secluded, her pen being almost her only link with the outside world. But with the autumn rest, have come to her wider fields and broader activities. In and around her beautiful home, enriched with treasures from many lands, there has grown up a far-reaching intellectual life of which she is the soul and centre. She is loved and honored in her own town, and there hundreds of women, of all ranks, turn to her for help and inspiration. The year of Mr. Dorr's death, she became the leader of a band of women who founded the Rutland Free Library, the success of which has been remarkable. Mrs. Dorr is still president of the association; and has given to the library, in memory of her husband, what is said to be the finest and most complete collection of books on Political Science to be found in New England, outside of Cambridge University. Personal life From "The Maples", her Rutland home, Dorr became involved in her community, leading the work of broadening women's interests. For 33 years, she was president of "The Fortnightly", the literary society of her church. To "The Maples" in its more than half-century of life came many authors; among them Emerson, searching the vicinity for the lost grave of his grandfather who died in the American Revolutionary War. At the Atlantic breakfast given in honor of Dr. Holmes' 70th birthday, Dorr was warned that Emerson, shadowed as he then was by loss of memory, might not know her. But the minute he saw her he exclaimed, "Oh, Mrs. Dorr, I shall never forget the view of Killington from your piazza!" Here, too, came authors' second-selves, their books, inscribed by their own hands; and authors' letters, both congratulatory and purely friendly, Longfellow's, Whittier's, Emerson's—covering many years —Dr. Holmes', the one she knew best of the Cambridge group, Stedman's, R. H. Stoddard's, his wife's, Howells'—But to name them all would be to recite a long list of the makers of American literature. Nor of American literature alone. One of the pleasantest consequences of her last public appearance at the Howells' birthday dinner