"went with Sis Joe, and some other ladies to
the singing-school. Had a fuss with Miss Flora,
went home with Miss Sue, had some fine singing
after supper." Where he supped he slept,
and next day, being Sunday, "went to church
with Miss Sue, heard a very poor sermon, had
a very pleasant time in general, and stole a
picture of my DUCK," &c. Probably she was
a neighbour at the house of which Miss Sue
was a daughter. There is record that the poor
boy saw her once again. From the same friend's
house he started the next morning to return to
school, where he recited mathematics, bought
cigars, "kissed my DUCK'S picture five or six
times, studied with——, and——sat up untill
twelve." He had left his sweetheart with the spirit
of industry freshened, but it was still a rare thing
for him to sit up till midnight. Next day,
"snowy bad morning, felt a little unwell, studied
hard untill eleven o'clock" (at night), "finished
eating the apples I brought from home." Alas
for the innocent boy-life that was to melt into
rough passion with the snows of winter, and to
perish with the autumn leaves!

"Wednesday, 16th of January. Snow nearly
all gone. Was put through by——and——
also——, was sold by——. Scratched some
on the fiddle." The last record of the next day
is, "Wrote to——, and told her all about my
sweetheart." These lines are written by the
boy among the money accounts on the last
leaves of his diary:

Farewell! but never from my heart
Shall time thine image blot.
The dreams of other days depart
Thou shalt not be forgot,
And never in the suppliant high
Poured forth to Him who rules the sky
Shall my own name be breathed on high
And thine remembered not.

So, my Duck,
I ask for thee a gem more rare
Than those in famed Golconda's mine.
'Tis not to sparkle in thy hair
Or on thy stainless breast to shine.
Ah, no, 'tis not for outward show,
This precious jewel I would crave;
It is to keep thy spirit pure,
And from all inward ill to save.

After two days of study, varied by the
purchase of a Harper's Magazine, "a social game of
cards with several boys," and some games of
chess and backgammon, came again a quiet
Sunday. "Heard a first-rate sermon from
Parson White, read Harper's Magazine part of
the day, attended College prayer meeting, sung
several tunes." Then followed days of work,
letter-writing, bandy-playing, a night of preparation
for the College anniversary, "did plenty of
cutting up in chapel that night, went to bed
some time between twelve o'clock and
daylight." There is snowfall, sloppy weather, the
turn-out of his last stick of wood. There is
hearing of home through Sis Emma, who
came to Lexington, reading "a very fine novel,"
going to see Sister Emma, a Sunday with "a
first-rate sermon. Went again at night and
heard Dicky Baker preach," after which he
came home and "finished reading a very good
novel." He "was treed" one day on
mathematics, and received a lot of Evening Posts.
But at the end of January he was still a simple-
hearted schoolboy, finishing the month thus:
"Sewed on a button and fixed my pants.
Reviewed about twenty-five pages of algebra, studied
untill twelve o'clock, then went to sleep."

In the second week of February he got a step
up in classes. He goes on working, buys books,
pays his subscription to a book society, and has
passed out of Cornelius Nepos into Cicero, with
whom he does not become friends at sight. On
the thirteenth of February, when he said or
"recited" his first lesson out of the De Senectute, he
records that "he was treed like storms." Next
day he "had a notion of laying up on account
of a bad cold" caught the night before. So he
"fixed up" a newspaper for brother Jimmie, and
"took a social game of seven-up with some
students." But on the day following he got up early
and worked hard till evening, when we find the
beginning of change in "some talk about the
Cow Committee with some brother Fresh, which
wound up the day." The Cow Committee seems,
by the diary, to have been an organisation for
semi-political night riots by a section of the
students. On Saturday the sixteenth of
February, the boy writes that he "did intend to
review" (learn lessons) "all day, but had other
fish to fry. However, I did review a little in
the evening." Next day, Sunday, still
unsettled, for the first time he records that he
"did not go to preaching at all. Attended
College prayer meeting in the evening."

On the day after that, the record of study
becomes impatient. He goes to a professor and
is "put through by the scamp;" the change of
tone and the influence of wilder associates appear
both in the same entry; for he goes on to say:
"Took a social game of whist in the evening,
found my furniture all piled up in my room, got
a little angry." Next day the boy "cut——'s
recitation. Played whist during the hour."
Something one may observe in the injurious
sapping of home influence by American public
school-life that points in the direction of an
exaggerated complaint once made in eighteen
hundred and fifty-eight by the New York Board
of Education, that the public schools of the
United States were "worse than valueless—
injurious to the morals and fatal to the religious
interests of the pupils, and that the alleged
deterioration in the morals of the community is
justly chargeable to the public schools." The
unsettlement of the youth who wrote this diary
is much more chargeable to the contents of the
newspapers that he "fixed up" for brother
Jimmie, and the effect of the news of the day
upon the wilder spirits in the college. At this
date (in the middle of February last year), South
Carolina, Georgia, Florida, Alabama, Mississippi,
and Louisiana had seceded, and Jefferson Davis
had been elected by these states President of
the Southern Confederacy. But there was no
actual war, and Virginia, yet abstaining from
secession, had, two days before the boy's entry