THE CONGRESS OF WOMEN.

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of romance, of heroism, to make an epic as enchanting and inspiring as any of classic lore.

Susannah Hart, the aunt of Mrs. Henry Clay, raised and pulled the flax which she wove and spun into her wedding gown, with an art so clever that she could draw the width through her wedding ring. She belonged to the wealthiest of those early families of note, and was the wife of Gov. Isaac Shelby. She died at the age of seventy-two years at “ Travelers’ Rest,” the grand old homestead which has never passed out of the Shelby family. She was the mother of ten children, and her descendants are widely scattered. Mary Hopkins Cabell Breckinridge was a con­temporary whose work can never die. Hers were not deeds of daring nor of tragic from the lurking Indian. Her power was in her eloquent conversation, her strong opinions, her decided views of duty. Her sons are orators and statesmen; her daughters are ambitious and progressive. Margaret Breckinridge, a granddaughter, devoted heart and hands to hospital work during the war of the Blue and the Grey; and by her gentle, self-sacrificing ministering was named the “ Angel of the hospitals.” She said: “Shall men die by thousands for their country and no woman risk her life?” Still a younger generation is led by Miss Sophronisba Breckinridge, who after years of travel in Europe, studied law in her father’s office. Mrs. Catherine Hunt, the chatelaine of one of Lexington’s proud homes, reigned a queen in her domain. The train of servants, the management of her handsome estate and all the demands upon the mistress of such possessions, called for executive ability of rare degree. Hers was the thinking head and the guiding hand. The Baroness Burdett Coutts says: “Woman may be allowed to lead in acts of charity,” and right nobly has she set this example. This woman, Mrs. Hunt, used her preroga­tive here. Sixty-one years ago, when cholera wellnigh depopulated the Blue Grass capital, she went forth on pious mission bent. Coming upon three desolate little children, whose parents lay dead, she said to a friend: “What shall we do with them? Let us buy them a home.” She opened her purse and established the Orphans’ Home, Lexington’s oldest charitable institution, where many little feet have found a resting place. Mrs. Henrietta Hunt Morgan was her daughter, and the Hon. Francis Kay Hunt, of legal celebrity, was her worthy son. Mrs. Morgan presided over her household much after the manner of her bringing up. She was the mother of a remarkable family. Her sons were Gen. John Hunt Morgan, Col. Calvin Morgan, Capt. Charlton Hunt Morgan, and Lieut. Thomas Morgan.^ Her daughters were the wives of Gen. A. P. Hill and of Gen. Basil W. Duke. Behold the evolu­tion of the Kentucky girl, if I may so term the greater liberty of today! Mrs. Henrietta Morgan Duke, of Louisville, Ky., one of our commissioners, is a woman of incomparable qualities of heart and brain. She reflects the grand­mother and mother in strength of character and in executive ability. Times have changed, and she has risen to the demands. Her young daughter, Miss Carrie Duke, the violin virtuoso, represents the fourth generation of this family. The ancient code would have held her captive, but the liberty of the present sent her abroad to develop the divine genius that now sways multitudes. Another young descendant of Mrs. Hunt is Miss Lucy Lee Hill, a World’s Fair Commissioner, who bravely and briskly went about the work of collecting exhibits; faithfully she has presided at the state building. Yet another great-granddaughter is Miss Eleanor Howard Morgan, daughter of Capt. Charlton Morgan, who entered Bryn Mawr College, where her scientist brother, Dr. Thomas Morgan, holds the chair of biology. This young girl perfectly illustrates the fact that developing a woman’s brain does not necessarily rob her of feminine charm. No lily of the valley, breathing its delicate fragrance far below the gaze of man, is more modestly environed; yet her influence pervades all the atmosphere about her. She inherits, not the dash of her uncle, the cavalry chief, but the steady glow of woman’s star when lit by the brilliancy of intellectual fire. After forty years of Kentucky civilization and the advance of commerce and education, in 1822 Susan Lucy Bary Taylor, only fifteen years old, read from the platform of the La Fayette