Among the outings enjoyed by the young people were excursions to neighboring villages.  There were no railroads, but every young man owned his horse and buggy, and in pleasant weather a procession of twenty vehicles often might be seen, each containing a happy couple on their way to a supper and dance.  On one occasion, according to the little diary, the night was so dark they did not dare risk the ten-mile drive home, as much of the road lay beside the river, so they continued the festivities till daylight.  Once a party went to Saratoga Springs, and, to Miss Anthony’s grief, her favorite young man invited another girl, and she had a long, dreary drive trying to be agreeable to one while her thought was with another.  To add to the unpleasantness her escort took this opportunity to ask her to give up teaching and preside over a home for him.

One winter was spent with relatives at Danby, Vt., and here, with the assistance of a cousin, Moses Vail, who was a teacher, she made a thorough study of algebra.  Later, when visiting her irrepressible brother-in-law, Aaron McLean, she made some especially nice cream biscuits for supper, and he said, “I’d rather see a woman make such biscuits as these than solve the knottiest problem in algebra.”  “There is no reason why she should not be able to do both,” was the reply.  There are many references in the old letters to “Susan’s tip-top dinners.”

She taught one summer in Cambridge, and then, for two years, in the home of Lansing G. Taylor, at Fort Edward.  Mrs. Taylor was the daughter of Judge Halsey Wing.  The journals of that date either were abandoned or have been lost in the half century since then, and there is but one letter in existence written during this very pleasant period.  In it, July 11, 1844, she says: 

As the week draws toward its close my mind travels to the dear home roof.  It seems to fly far hence to that loved father and mingle with his spirit while he is wandering in the wilds of Virginia, and it raises to the throne of grace an ardent wish for his safe return.  Oh, that he may make no change of land except for the better!  Then do my thoughts rest with my dear mother, toiling unremittingly through the long day and at eve, seated in her arm-chair, wrapt in solemn stillness, and later reclining on her lonely pillow.  How often, when I am enjoying the sweet hour of twilight, do I think of the sadness that has so long o’ershadowed her brow, and ardently entreat the God of love and mercy to give her that peace which is found only in a resignation to his just and holy will.  How numerous are our favors!  We have a comfortable subsistence and health to relish it; but, more than this, we, as a family, are bound together by the strongest ties of affection that seem daily to grow stronger....

I arose this morning at half-past four.  Two ladies from Albany are visiting here, the beautiful Abigail Mott, a Friend and a thorough-going