“A sad announcement will be anticipated by those who have been long in the habit of attending these occasions when they cast their eyes over the Board of Trustees and see that the seat of Captain David Thomas is vacant. Never since the foundation of the College was it so before. He was present at the birth of this institution; he saw it in all its promising and dispiriting visitations; and while it had no peculiar claims upon him, he watched over it with parental solicitude. At length he rejoiced in its commitment to the care of his own church; and under the management of my predecessor, he saw it assume an honorable rank among the kindred institutions of our Southern clime. His head, his heart and purse were all at its service. He was anticipating the events of this week with hopeful gratification when, within forty-eight hours of the time he expected to mingle his counsels with his colleagues, it pleased God to cut him down. Were our griefs always proportioned to our losses, his wife, his children, the orphan, the poor, the church, the trustees, the faculty, and the students would all have raised one wild shriek at the twang of the archer’s bow which laid him low. Were the joys of friendship proportioned to the good fortune of a friend, we should all rejoice and mingle our voices in loud hallelujahs that death had snatched him away; for that he has gone direct from earth to heaven none can doubt who knew him. I find it hard to restrain the starting tears; but this is my weakness. We all should rejoice, but this our nature will not permit; yet we must testify our respect for his memory.” Then Judge Longstreet read the resolutions of the Board of Trustees of Centenary College, which had been placed in his hands. This extraordinary man was a dear friend of our family, and every child in the house enjoyed his visits. He played on a glass flute for us, and it was a choice privilege when we were allowed to hear him read from his “Georgia Scenes” about the comical doings of Ned Brace and Cousin Patsy. His peculiarities bordered on eccentricity and his wit was inimitable and irresistible. Mrs. Longstreet was a lovely woman of whose presence one never wearied. She wore the daintiest of white caps, and seemed in the eyes of all like the angel she was. Of Byron, Walter Scott, and historical literature she could give pages from memory with great expression and in the sweetest voice imaginable. She was ideally sweet even in her most advanced years--a vision which once seen can never be forgotten. CHAPTER II. OLD TIMES. On a clear spring morning more than fifty years ago, Cousin Antoinette and I sat on the front porch of Cottage Hall ready for a ride and waiting for the stable boy to bring up our ponies. We were in the act of mounting when my father appeared and inquired where we were going.