Till through slow growths it waxed a perfect whole
Of clear conceptions, brightening heart and mind.

That clear conception remained a lifelong treasure in the poet's
heart.

Through a great ancestral corridor had Paul Hamilton Hayne descended,
with soul enjewelled with all the gems of character and thought that
had sparkled in the long gallery through which he had travelled into
the earth-light.

In the school of Mr. Coates, in Charleston, he was fitted to enter
Charleston College, a plain, narrow-fronted structure with six
severely classic columns supporting the façade. It stood on the
foundation of the "old brick barracks" held by the Colonial troops
through a six-weeks siege by twelve thousand British regulars under
Sir Henry Clinton.

Hayne satisfied the hunger and thirst of his excursive and ardent mind
by browsing in the Charleston Library on Broad and Church streets. It
may be that sometimes, on his way to that friendly resort, he passed
the old house on Church Street which once sheltered General
Washington; a substantial three-storied building with ornamental
woodwork which might cause its later use as a bakery to seem out of
harmony to any but _chefs_ with high ideals of their art.

The Library of old Charleston was composed chiefly of English classics
and the literature of France in the olden time when Europe furnished
us with something more than anarchy, clothes, and bargain-counter
titles. A sample of the Young America of that early day asked an old