How little we sometimes know of the real spirit and the inner life of some noble man or woman.  Mrs. Hermann was a remarkable instance of this.  I thought I was well acquainted with Mrs. Esther Hermann, who, in her home, 59 West fifty-sixth Street New York, was always entertaining her many friends.  Often three evenings a week were given to doing something worth while for someone, or giving opportunity for us to hear some famous man or woman speak, who was interested in some great project.  And her refreshments, after the hour of listening was over, were of the most generous and delicious kind.  Hers was a lavish hospitality.  It was all so easily and quietly done, that no one realized that those delightful evenings were anything but play to her.  She became interested in me when I was almost a novice in the lecture field, gave me two benefits, invited those whom she thought would enjoy my talks, and might also be of service to me.  There was never the slightest stiffness; if one woman was there for the first time, and a stranger, Mrs. Hermann and her daughters saw that there were plenty of introductions and an escort engaged to take the lady to the supper room.  Mrs. Hermann in those early days, often took me to drive in the park—­a great treat.  We chatted merrily together, and I still fancied I knew her.  But her own family did not know of her great benefactions; her son only knew by looking over her check books, after her death, how much she had given away.  Far from blazoning it abroad, she insisted on secrecy.  She invited Mr. Henry Fairfield Osborn to call, who was keenly interested in securing money to start a Natural History Museum, he bringing a friend with him.  After they had owned that they found it impossible even to gain the first donation, she handed Mr. Osborn, after expressing her interest, a check for ten thousand dollars.  At first he thought he would not open it in her presence, but later did so.  He was amazed and said very gratefully:  “Madam, I will have this recognized at once by the Society.”  She said:  “I want no recognition.  If you insist, I shall take back the envelope.”  Her daughter describes her enthusiasm one very stormy, cold Sunday.  Stephen S. Wise, the famous rabbi, was advertised to preach in the morning at such a place.  “Mother was there in a front seat early, eager to get every word of wisdom that fell from his lips.”  Mr. Wise spoke at the Free Synagogue Convention at three o’clock P.M.  “Mother was there promptly again, in front, her dark eyes glowing with intense interest.”  At eight P.M. he spoke at another hall on the other side of the city, “Mother was there.”  At the close, Mr. Wise stepped down from the platform to shake hands with Mrs. Hermann, and said, “I am surprised at seeing you at these three meetings, and in such bad weather.”  She replied,

“Why should you be surprised; you were at all three, weren’t you?”

She had a long life of perfect health and never paid the least attention to the worst of weather if she had a duty to perform.