open to all acquaintances and the students. I was standing at the end of one of the long, old-fashioned rooms, and saw, among a crowd of half-grown youths and towering above them, the tall, spare form and honest face of Charles Sumner. Years after we recalled that evening; and from his wonderful memory he mentioned a little fact. “ A three-cornered note was brought to you,” said he, “and you said to the gentlemen round you, ‘it is from Miss M.; she cannot be here this evening.’ ” “Why were you not introduced to me?” said I. “Oh, I did not dare to be; I only looked at you from afar with awe.” I was, in fact, a year younger than himself; but in those simple days the chasm was wide between a raw collegian, as he then was, and a young lady in society. I recall him very distinctly in his seat on Sundays. It was in the old chapel in University Hall, before any alteration had been made. The President's pew was in the gallery, on the right of the pulpit. Perched there, I looked down, first on good Dr. Ware, Sr., in his professor's gown; and, while he discoursed “furthermore,” I looked beyond and below on the very young Sophomores, and saw Sumner's long proportions in the front seat of the Seniors. It was during his residence as a law-student that he was most frequently at our house. I do not think he ever sought ladies' society much, though I remember we always enjoyed his conversation, and that my mother foresaw a future for Charles Sumner. It was during his law-studies that Judge Story and my father recognized his uncommon abilities. On one of those memorable Sunday evenings, when the judge, seated by my mother, drew all present around them, he spoke of Sumner, and said: “ He has a wonderful memory; he keeps all his knowledge in order, and can put his hand on it in a moment. This is a great gift.” On July 28, 1833, the new First Parish church was in progress; and the steeple, after being finished inside, was to be raised entire and placed on the tower. I give an extract from my journal: “We sent Horace to ask Mr. Sumner, the law-student, to let us come over to the Law School and see the raising. In a few moments, mamma, Margaret, and myself were joined by Mr. Sumner, who escorted us not only to the Law School, but all over the building, even into his own room, as, being librarian, he lives there. This youth, though not in the least handsome, is so good-hearted, clever, and real, that it is impossible not to like him and believe in him. JudgeStory and Mrs. Story and several other ladies joined us, and we sat on the portico; for Judge Story, fearing some accident would occur, would not let any of us go over to the church to see how the raising was managed. The steeple went up so slowly that mamma and my sister could not wait for it; but I staid with Mrs. Story until it rose to its full height and was safely moored on the tower. Mr. Sumner walked home with me arm in arm.” This latter clause is underlined, as I suppose it was a very remarkable attention; at least he had now no “ awe” of the young lady. It was in the preceding April, 1833, that John Hooker Ashmun died,— the Royall Professor of Law,—and Sumner must have been present at Judge Story's eulogy on Mr. Ashmun. In my journal of that day I write: “ After the services closed and the men came forward to remove the body, a number of Mr. Ashmun's students, as if moved by an irresistible impulse, pressed ”
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