" which might be called
historic, for in a dark dungeon underneath the house the notorious
regicides, Goff and Whalley, were hidden in the old, old times. And
the graveyard in New Haven, with its tall poplar trees, was an epitome
of the lives of men and women who had made their impress, not only on
that community, but on the world. Our school was situated on Hillhouse
avenue, and our walks were mostly confined to that quiet, shady street
and "Powder House lane," in order that we might avoid meeting the
"students," of whom our teacher seemed to have a great dread, a fear
from which her pupils were entirely free. But for all this care and
precaution we learned to know _by sight_ Benjamin Silliman, who lived
next door to us, and young Thomas Skinner, who was opposite, and it is
delightful to know that these two young men, who were full to the brim
with fun and harmless mischief, have become eminent and dignified men
of renown, one as a chemist and scientist, the other as a
distinguished divine and honored professor in a theological seminary.

The college commencement exercises were held in the Central Church, on
the "Green," and all the schools, male and female, were well
represented in the large audience. The ladies occupied the center of
the church, and, in order that the large bonnets in vogue at that time
might not intercept the view of the stage, several long lines were
stretched longitudinally over their heads, to which they were expected
to attach them, and, after all had hung up their bonnets, these lines
were drawn up out of the way until needed again. Many of the ladies
provided pretty caps and headdresses for the occasion, and the
delicate laces, with their tasteful trimmings, and the bright eyes and
happy faces, formed a pretty picture long to be remembered. Recalling
it, I see again the dimpled cheeks and soft, graceful appointments of
those merry girls, and, wafted backward over the bridge of many years,
I sit among them, the spring-time of youth comes back to me, and I
bless God for memory. What if we are old women now, worn and weary
with care and trial it may be; this blessed gift refreshes us on our
way to the eternal youth that awaits us just beyond, and we exult in
the belief that the flowers over there are fadeless, that old age is
not known, and friends no more say "good-bye."

[Illustration]

_CHAPTER XIV._

FATHER'S DEATH, ETC.

The fall of 1835 found us all, except our Cadet, at Fort