and footpaths. It was not until several years later that Mr. Winsor decided to develop his large acreage into house lots. Moving the Weston Golf Club from Kendal Green to his farm was a great in-ducement to prospective buyers, and many of the young hope-   fuls from the banking firm of Kidder Peabody and Company, in which Mr. Winsor was a partner, built houses on the new develop-ment. They also attended the Unitarian Church of which he was     a pillar. My father referred to them as Mr. Winsor's slaves, and maintained that he could see Mr. Winsor checking his list every Sunday to make sure they were all present; and when Mr. Winsor died, he said, there was a perceptible shrinkage in attendance by the Kidder Peabody contingent.
   Uncle Andrew Fiske was also a pillar of the Unitarian Church until one day Mr. Winsor greeted him with, "I hope to see you       in my church next Sunday." The remark infuriated Uncle Andrew. "The idea of Robert Winsor calling it his church," he snorted,      and thereupon became an Episcopalian.  

   The summer after the celebration — 1914 — Uncle Charlie Fiske came home from Europe, frothing at the mouth. Ordin-    arily he was the gentlest and most docile of people, and such a display of temper seemed completely out of character.
   "I'd like to hit that Kaiser over the head with my cane," he announced, brandishing his walking stick in the air and looking      at an imaginary Kaiser. He was so convincing that I felt certain, given the chance, he and his cane could cure all the troubles of     the world. But he was never given the chance, and war broke out   in Europe. About three years passed before the United States entered the conflict, and in the meantime there was an important

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