et, but,
supposing that he would not be remembered, had no thought of speaking,
whereupon Houston called out, "Young man, are you not going to speak to
me!" My father replied that he had not supposed that he would be
remembered. "Of course I remember meeting you at the Pemberton House in
Boston."

I remember some of the boarders, regular and transient, distinguished
and otherwise. There was a young grocery clerk who used to hold me in
his lap and talk to me. He became one of the best of California's
governors, Frederick F. Low, and was a close friend of Thomas Starr
King. A wit on a San Francisco paper once published at Thanksgiving time
"A Thanksgiving proclamation by our stuttering reporter--'Praise God
from whom all blessings f-f-low.'" In my memory he is associated with
Haymaker Square.

I well remember the famous circus clown of the period, Joe Pentland,
very serious and proper when not professionally funny. A minstrel who
made a great hit with "Jim Crow" once gave me a valuable lesson on table
manners. One Barrett, state treasurer, was a boarder. He had a standing
order: "Roast beef, rare and fat; gravy from the dish." Madame
Biscaccianti, of the Italian opera, graced our table. So did the
original Drew family.

The hotel adjoined the Howard Athenaeum, and I profited from peeping
privileges to the extent of many pins. I recall some wonderful trained
animals--Van Amberg's, I think. A lion descended from back-stage and
crawled with stealth upon a sleeping traveler in the foreground. It was
thrilling but harmless. There were also some Viennese dancers, who
introduced, I believe, the Cracovienne. I remember a "Sissy Madigan,"
who seemed a wonder of beauty and charm.

There was great excitement when the Athenaeum caught on fire. I can see
the trunks being dragged down the stairs to the damage of the banisters,
and great confusion and dismay among our boarders. A small boy was
hurried in his nightie across the street and kept till all danger had
passed. A very early memory is the marching through the streets of
soldiers bound for the Mexican War.

Off and on, I lived in Boston till 1849, when my father left for
California and the family returned to Leominster.

My first school in Boston was in the basement of Park Street Church.
Hermann Clarke, son of our minister, Rev. James Freeman Clarke, was a
fellow pupil. Afterward I went to the Mayhew Grammar School, connected
in my mind with a mild chastisement for imita