After talking freely with the mother, Antoinette Brown, I did not wonder that Anthony had learned to honor the gentlemen who had come from France to this region in early days as among the greatest men in the world.  I did not find myself able to discredit her realistic and vivid description of the visits of Joseph Bonaparte to his wilderness domain in a six-horse chariot, followed by numerous retainers.  Neither did I find myself able to disbelieve in the accuracy of her picturesque description of Joseph Bonaparte’s Venetian gondola floating upon the waters of Northern New York, or her account of his dinner-service of “golden plate” spread out by the road-side on one memorable occasion when he paused in his kingly ride and dined in a picturesque place near the highway.  She told in a convincing manner many traditions relating to the enterprise which was to have made of the Black-River country a rich farming region not inferior to the Mohawk Flats.  The fact that nature had not seconded this undertaking had not diminished Mrs. Brown’s impressions of its magnitude and importance.  The great tracts which had been purchased and the great men who had purchased them were vividly impressed upon her imagination.  In reference to her personal history, except for a few allusions to life in New York City, she was reticent.

I remained nearly two months at the home of my friend, and became familiar with the places of interest surrounding it.  The little lake was a memorable spot, for there Anthony first told me the full story of his experiences in Philadelphia.  He did not conceal the fact that an attachment was growing up between himself and the daughter of his best friend there, Mr. Zebina Allen.  The way to make his permanent home in the Quaker City seemed to be opening before him.  That I should go with him for a few days to Philadelphia when he returned, to “see how the land lay,” as he expressed it in backwoods phrase, was one of his favorite ideas.  He made so much of this point that I finally consented to accompany him.

It was a rainy day early in September when we stepped off the cars and went to Anthony’s boarding-place in the good old city that held the one he loved and his fortunes.  I was introduced to various friends of his, and during the first twenty-four hours of my sojourn I was delighted with all matters that came under my observation.  I was especially pleased with Mr. Allen and his daughter Caroline.  But within two days I saw, or fancied that I saw, a curious scrutiny and reserve in the faces of some of those with whom we conversed.

I think Anthony was more surprised than I was when he received a note from one of the trustees intimating that important changes were likely to be made in reference to the educational methods to be employed in the school, and that, in view of these changes, it was barely possible that some new arrangements in regard to teachers might be desired by the patrons of the institution.  The trustee professed to have written this information in order that “Mr. Brown” might not be taken wholly by surprise in case any step affecting his position should be found advisable.