In my strife with the world, I can never forget The scenes of my childhood, and those who were there When I was a child. I remember them yet; Their features, their persons, to memory so dear, Are present forever, and cling round my heart-- On the plains of the West, in the forest's deep wild, On the blue, briny sea, in commerce's mart, 'Mid the throngs of gay cities with palaces piled. The bottle of milk, and the basket of food, Prepared by my mother, at dawning of day, For my dinner at school; and path through the wood: How well I remember that wood and that way, The brook which ran through it, the bridge o'er the brook, The dewberry-briers which grew by its side, My slate, and my satchel, and blue spelling-book, And little white pony father gave me to ride! The spring by the hill, where our bottles were placed To bathe in its waters, so clear and so cool, Till dinner-time came! Oh! then how we raced To get them, and dine in the shade by the pool! The spring, and the pool, and the shade are still there, But the dear old school-house has rotted and gone, And all who were happy about it are--where? Go--go to the church-yard, and ask the grave-stone! A few there are left, old, tottering, and gray, Apart and forgotten, as those who are dead; Yet sometimes they meet on life's thorny way, And talk, and live over the days that have fled. Oh! how I remember those faces so bright, Which beamed in their boyhood with honesty's ray! And oft, when alone, in the stillness of night, We're all at the school-house again, and at play! Of all those who were there with me, the best loved was H.S. Smith, now of Mobile; and he, with perhaps one or two more, are all that are now living. Our ages are the same, within a week or two, I am sure; and we are of the same height and same weight; and our attachment was mutual: it has never been marred through threescore years and ten, and to-day we are, as brothers should be, without a secret hidden in the heart, the one from the other. As a friend, as a husband, as a father, as a man, I know none to rival H.S. Smith. He never aspired to political distinction: content to pursue, through life, the honorable and responsible business of a merchant, he has distinguished himself for energy, capacity, probity, and success; and in his advanced years enjoys the confidence and esteem of all honest men. Our years have been, since 1826, spent apart--communication, however, has never ceased between us, and the early friendship, so remarked by all who knew us, continues, and will until one is alone in life.