"It is very pleasant for me to bring back before me your brother as I remember him at the commencement of our college life. He was, as you know, a boy of twelve years, dressed in a boy's jacket with a ruffled shirt, collar coming down over his shoulders, such as boys wore in those days--playful as a kitten, and as innocent as the purest-minded girl. He was probably the best fitted (as the phrase is) for college, of any member of the class. He had, I believe, gone over all the studies of the Sophomore year. Without any apparent effort he maintained his preëminence through his entire college course, not only in the Languages, but also in Mathematics and Mental Philosophy. My recollection is that he had committed to memory all the Greek primitives before he left college, yet with all his preëminence as a scholar he never seemed to have the remotest consciousness that there was anything remarkable about himself. We had ambitious men in the class and some bitter rivalries, but no one ever thought of questioning his position. In short he was both the pet and pride of the class; his conscientiousness as a boy was that which characterized him as a man. I do not think he would have done a consciously wrong thing for his right hand. I remember being with him one Sabbath, when a letter was handed him from home, and his views of the sacredness of the Sabbath were such that he would not open it until the Sabbath was passed. I mention this, not to illustrate the earnestness of his conscience, but simply to show its authority over him. "As your brother was the youngest of the class, I was one of the oldest, but from the commencement of our class life our intimacy was constant. I could very readily tell why I was attracted to him, but his friendship for me I could never understand; sure I was that I never loved any other man as I did him; he visited me a number of times; as I was at his home in Salem not long before his lamented death, he seemed to me the same at the end as he was at the beginning, one of the most lovable and remarkable men I ever knew, and the world has seemed to be poorer ever since he left it." Mr. C. C. Chase, Principal of the High School in Lowell, of the class of 1839, says: