While there were some very studious girls, about whose profound learning wonderful stories were whispered, who patronized the Agassiz omnibus, there were also fashionable and rather frivolous young ladies among our number—who danced at balls and parties in the evening and as a natural consequence came to school very tired in the morning. Human nature in mid-Victorian days was very much as it is now. One sad memory is indissolubly connected with the Agassiz omnibus. It relates to the hats I wore—and to those which, had fate permitted, I should have liked to wear. The views of my dear mother on the subject of headgear differed from those of her neighbors. In Boston the sumptuary laws of this period prescribed that your hat should be as nearly as possible the exact ditto of that worn by every other woman and girl in the town. During this particular spring white-straw bonnets, trimmed with green ribbon outside and pink ribbon inside, were the regulation wear. Now blue was my color, and my bonnet was garnished with a ribbon of bluish gray tint, more becoming to me than the universal pink. I was prepared to accept this variation from type, the bonnet being pretty in itself. But, alas! this was not the worst. Our mother also had an idea that round hats were more suitable for school-girls than bonnets. Accordingly, I was provided with a brown straw shade-hat, the brim of which seemed huge to my excited imagination. It was expected that I should wear this to school, reserving the bonnet for best. I adopted the desperate expedient of wearing my winter bonnet out of the proper season. Oh, how I scrutinized the girls, as they entered the omnibus, to see how many still wore their winter bonnets! Several obligingly did so, but their number became daily less. At last I was driven from the burrow—or trench—of that velvet bonnet and obliged to come out into the open. A few times I tremblingly wore the huge round hat—the only one in the stage. Once or twice I took refuge in the Cambridge street-cars—but here lurked the danger of Harvard students with their critical eyes. At last I boldly put on the Sunday blue bonnet. What if it did fade and wither from too frequent exposure? At least I should be saved from wearing the despised round hat! Even then, however, there were exceptions to this sumptuary law, practised in Cambridge itself, had I only known it. It was perhaps in this very year, 1858, that Charles Francis Adams, Jr., then a student at Harvard, drew upon himself a remonstrance from his fellows on account of his headgear, to which he made the following reply: _“An Adams can wear any sort of hat he wishes.”_ His fellow-student, my brother-in-law, related this story to me many years afterward, in a grieved spirit. I assured, him that Charles Francis Adams, Jr., was right. Certain families of the Hub possessed at that date a prescriptive right to dress as they pleased, every one knowing who they were.