my grandfather died, and in 1853 my
grandmother joined him.

During these Leominster days we greatly enjoyed a visit from my father's
sister, Charlotte, with her husband, John Downes, an astronomer
connected with Harvard University. They were charming people, bringing a
new atmosphere from their Cambridge home. Uncle John tried to convince
me that by dividing the heavens I might count the visible stars, but he
did not succeed. He wrote me a fine, friendly letter on his returning
home, in 1852, using a sheet of blue paper giving on the third page a
view of the college buildings and a procession of the alumni as they
left the church Sept. 6, 1836. In the letter he pronounced it a very
good view. It is presented elsewhere, in connection with the picture of
a friend who entered the university a few years later.

School life was pleasant and I suppose fairly profitable. Until I
entered high school I attended the ungraded district school. It was on
the edge of a wood, and a source of recess pleasure was making
umbrageous homes of pine boughs. On the last day of school the school
committee, the leading minister, the ablest lawyer, and the best-loved
doctor were present to review and address us. We took much pride in the
decoration. Wreaths of plaited leaves were twisted around the stovepipe;
the top of the stove was banked with pond-lilies gathered from a pond in
our woods. Medals were primitive. For a week I wore a pierced ninepence
in evidence of my proficiency in mental arithmetic; then it passed to
stronger hands.

According to present standards we indulged in precious little amusement.
Entertainments were few. Once in a while a circus came to town, and
there were organizations of musical attractions like The Hutchinson
Family and The Swiss Bell Ringers. Ossian E. Dodge was a name with which
to conjure, and a panorama was sometimes unrolled alternating with
dissolving views. Seen in retrospect, they all seem tame and unalluring.
The Lyceum was, the feature of strongest interest to the grownups.
Lectures gave them a chance to see men of note like Wendell Phillips,
Emerson, or William Lloyd Garrison. Even boys could enjoy poets of the
size of John G. Saxe.

Well do I remember the distrust felt for abolitionists. I had an uncle
who entertained Fred Douglass and was ready at any time to help a
fugitive slave to Canada. He was considered dangerous. He was a
shoemaker, and I remember how he would drop his work when no one w