They had gone, but the blissful memory! I leaned on the window sill, and the moon with its bounteous mellow radiance filled my room.

But listen, hark! Only two doors beyond, the same voices, the same melodious tones, and alas, yes, the same words, every verse and the same chorus--same masculine fervour--but somebody else's daughter.
A breakfast comment: "It's a terrible nuisance this caterwauling in the middle of the night in front of the house!" For once I was silent.
Many distinguished men were invited to Dartmouth as orators at commencement or on special occasions, as Rufus Choate, Edward Everett, John G.Saxe, Wendell Phillips, Charles Dudley Warner, and Dr.Holmes, whom I knew in his Boston study, overlooking the water and the gulls.
By the way, he looked so young when arriving at Hanover for a few lectures to the Medical School that he was asked if he had come to join the Freshman class.
There were also Edwin P.Whipple, the essayist, and Walt Whitman, who was chosen one year for the commencement poet.

He appeared on the platform wearing a flannel shirt, square-cut neck, disclosing a hirsute covering that would have done credit to a grizzly bear; the rest of his attire all right.

Joaquin Miller was another genius and original.
Another visitor was James T.Fields of Boston, the popular publisher, poet, author, lecturer, friend, and inimitable raconteur, who was always one of my best friends.
When Mr.and Mrs.Fields were invited to Hanover, he and his beautiful wife were always guests at our home.

Their first visit to us was an epoch for me.