fame is too substantial to need encomium in these humble pages.
Suffice it to say that between these two men, our hero, the poet, and
the great man of affairs, there has always remained the closest
friendship, and each carries in his bosom, wrapped in the myrrh of
fond memory, the deathless blossom of friendship, that sweetest flower
in the conservatory of the soul."

The day before John left for Lawrence he met Lieutenant Jacob Dolan.

"So ye're going to college--ay, Johnnie?"

"Yes, Mr. Dolan," replied the boy.

"Well, they're all givin' you somethin', Johnnie: Watts here has given
a bit of a posey in verse; and my friend, General Hendricks, I'm told,
has given you a hundred-dollar note; and General Philemon Ward has
given you Wendell Phillips' orations; and your sweetheart--God bless
her, whoever she is--will be givin' ye the makins' of a broken heart;
and your mother'll be givin' you her blessin'--and the saints'
prayers go with 'em; and me, havin' known your father before you and
the mother that bore you, and seein' her rub the roses off her cheeks
tryin' to keep your ornery little soul in your worthless little body,
I'll give you this sentiment to put in your pipe and smoke: John
Barclay, man--if they ever be's a law agin damn fools, the first raid
the officers should make is on the colleges. And now may ye be struck
blind before ye get your education and dumb if it makes a fool of ye."
And so slapping the boy on the back, Jake Dolan went down the street
winding in and out among the brick piles and lumber and mortar boxes,
whistling "Tread on the Tail of me Coat."