There was a fine set of boys at Phillips Academy then, many of whom have nobly justified their early promise; while others, the centre of many loving hearts, have gone to early graves, like a leaf that falls in June. It is sometimes hard to keep back the tears, as I recall those bright faces, and the pleasant hours we have spent together, especially in the Sunday school.
Gus Daniels was a splendid boy: how we all loved him! Well do I remember when he came to the mansion-house, fresh from home, a shrinking, diffident boy, and was set down at the breakfast-table, with a large company of theological students, too frightened to ask for anything, and trying to make himself as small as possible. We helped the little fellow, endeavored to converse with and assure him, and at dinner found him again beside us. The next Sunday morning found him in my class in Sunday school; and, as those will who are like attempered, we gradually grew together: how I loved him! and perceiving what was in him, I began to stimulate and encourage him to worthy effort; he leaped under it like a generous horse to the pressure of his rider’s knee. Many a Phillips Academy boy and Harvard student will remember him, who died just as he was putting on his harness. But then there was no shadow of the sepulchre, nor taint of disease, upon him. There was an innate attractiveness which made it pleasant even to sit in the same room with him, though no word was spoken, and his lovable and taking ways won every heart.
The lilies were now in full bloom, and he, with others, had resolved upon a mighty and combined attempt to find the whereabouts of that mysterious boat. I was made aware, while quietly fishing, of the presence of a great number of boys on the the shore.
“Mr. K.!”
No reply.
“Mr. K.!”
“In Zanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure dome decree,
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran,