"Sheep-ear" collars were in fashion in those days, just the reverse of those now or lately fashionable—I mean those with turned-down points and rising high at the back of the neck, making one look like he had on a mustard-plaster. The "sheep-ear" collars had points with acutest angles, which came up to the corners of a man's mouth. When starched and stiffened they looked as if great danger would be incurred by a sudden turn of the head. Now just picture to yourself a sober-looking man coming into a parlor in the morning with these "sheep-ears" pointing to the back of the neck instead of to the front, and you will realize how very peculiar the tutor looked one morning when he came down. This I was eye-witness of, and if I laughed I hope no one will accuse me of want of due respect. It could not be helped, certainly by one who has been known to enjoy a hearty spell at times.
The tutor was by no means a pharisee in spirit, for he was one of the "meek of the earth." But his inveterate habit made him liable to be pronounced as pharisaic. When officiating at public prayers in the chapel he would sometimes forget that after prayer came recitation or lecture and then breakfast, and his prayer would seem to be interminable. Knowing his absence of mind, one morning while thus engaged some good-intentioned or irreverent fellow prompted him by a hearty amen! This brought the prayer to a speedy conclusion, but the tutor was highly displeased—so much so that he sent for the most mischievous one of the auditors, whom he naturally charged with the offence, and said to him, "Mr. Blaze, I have sent for you, sir! to say to you that you shan't say amen to my prayers."
The tutor was very economical—some would say, penurious. Not so. He was generous and warm-hearted—as much so as an old bachelor could be. A true Christian, he felt it to be his duty to save every dime he could, that he might have the more to meet the demands of charity. This conviction caused him to discard pins as extravagant. In his room would be seen what Adam and Eve used when their first garments were donned, to furnish which conveniently he kept a thorn bush hung up behind his door. This he kept up until he was convinced that the damage thus caused to one's collar exceeded the cost of pins.
Candles being expensive, he thought the twilight sufficient to enable him to make up his morning toilet. This economy, combined with his other besetting habit, got him into a most ludicrous scrape. It happened thus: In writing out his voluminous notes he used many quill pens, which from time to time accumulated on his table. He took these—quite a number—one night, just before retiring, and washed them in his bowl, leaving the water in the bowl very much the color of the blue ink he was wont to use. The next morning in the dimness of twilight he failed to observe this discolored fluid when he went to perform his ablutions; when he finished he was blue—yes, very blue. Not taking time to look into his glass, he went to the chapel and took his place on the rostrum ready to officiate at the appointed hour, wholly unconscious of the very remarkable visage he wore, and thus unprepared for the scene which was to follow.
As the boys dropped in each one would stop, and look, and wonder, and then break out into most uproarious laughter, as perfectly uncontrollable as a storm in its fury. There was no use to attempt to be devout that morning. How the tutor got through with the reading and the prayer I can't say, but I fear he was not in a very devotional mood himself. How could he be when every one was laughing, while he could not see what was making them laugh. He was utterly disgusted with such rudeness and irreverence.
But he did get through. When some one informed him of his cadaverous appearance, he suddenly recollected the blue pens he had washed in his bowl. Then it was his turn to laugh, and laugh he did with a vim.
But lest I weary you, I will here conclude this reminiscence of the olden times by saying that with all the oddities of this old tutor I still cherish the highest respect for his character as a good and deeply pious man. "Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God." I doubt not that he will be of that number in the great day when the jewels are counted.
[Illustration: PROF. DAVID S. DOGGETT, A. M.]
These made the Faculty of 1839-1842. In the latter year Rev. David S. Doggett succeeded Professor Sims in the English course. He was an eloquent preacher, in the prime of life, a diligent student, and dignified in his deportment. The pulpit was his place of power, and he did not remain long away from it. He was afterwards a Bishop in the church, after having served the church as editor of the Methodist Review for a number of years.
So much for the professors and tutors. What of the students under them? Taking the men who received degrees during the five years 1840-1844, it is pleasant, though it may seem invidious, to mention a part where it is not possible to name all.