however, none the worse for his
companionship so far as I can remember.

Of the boys who were at school with me at Andover one has acquired great
distinction among the scholars of the land. One day I observed a new
boy in a seat not very far from my own. He was a little fellow, as
I recollect him, with black hair and very bright black eyes, when at
length I got a chance to look at them. Of all the new-comers during my
whole year he was the only one whom the first glance fixed in my memory,
but there he is now, at this moment, just as he caught my eye on the
morning of his entrance. His head was between his hands (I wonder if he
does not sometimes study in that same posture nowadays!) and his eyes
were fastened to his book as if he had been reading a will that made him
heir to a million. I feel sure that Professor Horatio Balch Hackett
will not find fault with me for writing his name under this inoffensive
portrait. Thousands of faces and forms that I have known more or less
familiarly have faded from my remembrance, but this presentment of
the youthful student, sitting there entranced over the page of his
text-book,--the child-father of the distinguished scholar that was to
be,--is not a picture framed and hung up in my mind's gallery, but a
fresco on its walls, there to remain so long as they hold together.

My especial intimate was a fine, rosy-faced boy, not quite so free of
speech as myself, perhaps, but with qualities that promised a noble
manhood, and ripened into it in due season. His name was Phinehas
Barnes, and, if he is inquired after in Portland or anywhere in the
State of Maine, something will be heard to his advantage from any honest
and intelligent citizen of that Commonwealth who answers the question.
This was one of two or three friendships that lasted. There were other
friends and classmates, one of them a natural humorist of the liveliest
sort, who would have been quarantined in any Puritan port, his laugh was
so potently contagious.

Of the noted men of Andover the one whom I remember best was Professor
Moses Stuart. His house was nearly opposite the one in which I resided
and I often met him and listened to him in the chapel of the Seminary.
I have seen few more striking figures in my life than his, as I
remember it. Tall, lean, with strong, bold features, a keen,
scholarly, accipitrine nose, thin, expressive lips, great solemnity and
impressiveness of voice and manner, he was my early model of a