Hampden Sydney College - Kaleidoscope Yearbook (Hampden Sydney, VA)

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Reminiscences of Hampden-Sidney in 1871-'74 There is something especially attractive in youth, but among their many drawing qualities, nothing appeals to me more than their unconsciousness of danger, their gener- osity in invitation and their utter blindness to what they do. This was strikingly shown when the young manager of this Annual invited an old man to ureminiscef' without placing any limit upon his pen. Where these random thoughts will end, I know not. l only know that the very name of Hampden-Sidney takes me back to the happiest days of my youth, and that vanished hands touch me on every side, and that the very air seems alive with voices that have long been still. As l look back over a life that has already reached the sere and yellow leaf stage, three periods stand out distinct-the war period, the College period, and the period when life with its burdens and responsibilities confronted me. The war period had its variety and its excitements, but it also had so much death, such a struggle for bare existence, so many sad faces and broken hearts, that even now I feel its gloom and shadow. While middle age has had its pleasures and compensations, and a measureable degree of success, it has also had its hard problems and its bitter disappointments. To the College period I turn for its unalloyed pleasures, its sweet companionships. and its years of profitable study. As Addison Smith would say, ul have passed the meridian of life, and am going to the confines of eternity, and as l look through the many years that have passed since my college days, l can see that amid those unattractive surroundings and creature discomforts, I received impressions that have counted for much in my life, ln the fall of '7l I caught my first glimpse of the old barn-like building. To a homesick boy there could have been nothing more uninviting-an oblong building of rough brick, with four halls, each independent of the other: bare class-rooms, and dormitory rooms rough and cheerless in every way-all standing in the center of a campus, almost destitute of trees, an expanse of fiery sun in the summer, and a continent of mud in the winter. From the opening of winter till late in the spring, overshoes were a necessity, for there were no pavements in the village, and he who adventured forth by night minus a lantern, on calico intent, was doomed to disaster as well as disappointment. In those days hazing was an unknown art, and the newcomer was persona gratu- the material out of which the famous literary societies were recruited. So that the old men put forth their best efforts to win him over to their particular society. I5

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Forgotten jewels Vvilh many a brilliant notion. Wvilh many a noble thought. With many a pure emotion. Our youthful lives aie fraught. Oh, where are those aspirations That lifted our souls in youth? Those eager, clear-eyed glimmerings? Those sparkling bubbles fiom Truth? Out of life-'s hbres rent they Are silently parted and tern. And into clouds of nepenthe On wings invisible borne. Gone from the hopes of to-morrow, Gone from the vista of years- They are lost in laughter and sorrow, They are lost through smiles and tears. And yet in Elysian meadows Methinks we will find them once more. For there invisible workers Are garnering the crystallized store: And each sparkling drop that bubl-led From the wonderful fountain of Truth. ls carefully gathered and garnered. Though lost with the loss of our youth. BEN Gooonmcz I4

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Several of us new boys were invited to a room where apples and cider were dis- pensed, and where I first met Old Crews-who was known as the Widow's Crusef' an old fellow who had served in the Confederate army, and had been wounded in the leg, and who bravely fought his way through College and the Seminary, overcoming diffr- culties that would have daunted men less in earnest, and who lived for several years, doing good work in the ministry. Of course there were many jokes told on him, some illustrating his courage, and some his scholarship, but none of which I shall tell, because, however much I may have laughed at him then, I can now see that it took courage and labor to do what he did, and it is my prayer that when I report above my life's work, I may have as good a record of courage, devotion and usefulness as old Crews had. Perhaps for the sake of system, it will be well to ureminiscen first about the students. then the Faculty, and finally the social life, but even this division, unless some check is put on, will soon develop into a garrulous story of the long ago. I. THE STUDENT BODY Since leaving College, I have lived in two college towns, and I have roamed from Dan to Beersheba, but I have not only never found such a set of young men as those who constituted the student body in l87l, but I doubt whether a finer set were ever gathered together. It is not a case of distance lending enchantment, but they fully deserved this reputation. I cannot recall hearing an oath for two sessions, and while there were one or two who would drink, they were rare exceptions, and they generally did so in secret. It was at this time that I first met my life-long friend, Charles Ghiselin, with whom I roomed for five years, two in College and three in the Seminary-a man of brilliant intellect and lovely character, and moreover a fellow of infinite jest! Frank Bedinger, whose love of lengthy speech was proverbial, a habit that I understand has stayed with him through life: Jim Tredway, now a Judge in Virginia, whose bearing always was that of a gentleman: Reike, of rotund proportions, so round that when he was thrown to the ground in football, he was at times unconscious of the fact, as his head was always the same distance above the ground: Peter Woods, now preaching in Baltimore, whose rich tenor voice often disturbed our consumption of the midnight oil: Old Cal Wilson, who was for so many years the pastor of a large country church-a man whose natural indolence stood out in such striking contrast with the brilliancy of his mind: Harry Thornton, the youngest man in the class, who bore off the First Honor, and who afterwards bravely met death in the frozen wilds of Alaska: J. Addison Smith, whose subsequent career in the ministry has shown that none of us was the son of a prophet, Pat Law, the present gifted editor of the Presbplcrian Standard. In the higher classes there were Buck Bishop and Alex. Hall, Billy Ward and Willie I6