Alfred Graham, in the latter. When our cots were in place, there was scarce room enough for our table, with its three chairs, in the pigeon hole that was assigned to us. The room opened upon a big gallery in the third story of the building facing the South. Subsequently I lived in the North Barracks, the rooms in which are much larger and opened upon a hall running through the centre of the building. The two barracks have long been pulled down. When I was finally appointed assistant teacher of drawing, they gave me more comfortable quarters and ten dollars a month extra.

"I do not remember upon what principle our class of one hundred and seventeen members was divided into four sections. I recollect, however, that I was put into the first section, of which General Trimble and myself are now the only survivors. Our recitation room was next the guard room, on the first floor of the North Barracks. Here on a rostrum between the two windows sat Assistant Professor S. Stanhope Smith, and here, with the first volume of Hutton's Mathematics in hand, I began my West Point education. I may as well say that the first sifting, in June 1819, of my one hundred and seventeen comrades of the year before, reduced the number to fifty-nine, the next sifting to forty-eight, and that the number that got through the meshes of the sieve was but forty. Of the others some resigned, some were 'turned back' to go over the year's course a second time, and some were found to be deficient altogether. These last were called, in the parlance of the cadets, 'Uncle Sam's bad bargains.'

Speaking of his position in his class, he says:

"As for myself, I got only as high as eighteenth in the fourth class; and when I complained to the Superintendent that my French was not credited to me, which would have

made me sixteenth, I was told, in the Superintendent's courteous way, that, after all, two did not make so great a difference in so large a class; that if I had been one of the first five, for example, it would have been another thing. The next year, when I was, in fact, one of the five, I had the same cause of complaint, and I have sometimes thought that the Superintendent's remark may have had a good effect; for, certainly in my third year, I had no cause for complaint.

"The head of the class, the third year, was an object that more than one of us was striving for, and when, after supper, as we stood in rank, the Adjutant came with his papers to read the merits to us, there was more than one anxious heart as he cried out 'Those whose names are called, will step six paces to the front and close to the right,' and when my name was called, I felt just able to obey the command and no more. Some days after I was crossing the plain and was stopped by Major Thaesses, on duty, who said the Superintendent wanted to see me. He was walking to and fro, in front of his quarters, in his usual blue frock coat and white pantaloons, when I approached him. 'So, Cadet Latrobe,' he said with a pleasant smile, 'you have not been to make your usual complaint to me this year.'

"I did not go into camp this year. As an opulent teacher I was exempted, and occupied quarters in the South Barracks. I soon tired of my dignified idleness, and was oftener in among the tents than in my room. Major Worth, Commandant of Cadets, was then getting ready for the march to Boston, and offered me, if I would waive my privileges as teacher of drawing, to give me a place on his staff as Topographical Engineer No. 2. I was only too glad to accept his offer, and accordingly accompanied the Bat

talion, going to Albany in a steamboat, and then marching to Boston, Providence, New London, where we took steamer again to New York, and so back to the Point.

"The march to Boston was a gala time. I was appointed historiographer by the Commandant, and elected by my companions chairman of the committee that was to represent them on public occasions, when it became necessary to reply to invitations and the like. The first class having left, I, as the head of the second, was No. 1 in the institution, and had my full share of attention on the expedition. Topographical Engineer No. 1, Jonathan Prescott, was rarely in camp, so that I had a handsome marquee to myself. Ah! these were happy days, happy, happy days.

"I have no purpose to recall the events of the march. Some years ago my old friend, Alfred Mordecai, gave me a copy of my journal of the march-you will find it among my books. I look on its pages for living names. Not a half dozen of that merry crowd of youthful soldiers now remain on earth. Everywhere the greatest attention was paid to us. Boston was hospitality itself. We dined in Fanueil Hall, when as the head of the classes, I sat on the left hand of the Major. We dined at Cambridge, where I sat by the side of President Kirkland. Society took many of us into its gatherings. My mother had given me letters of introduction to Harrison Gray Otis, United States Senator, Richard Duly, Jonathan Mason, and one or two persons of consideration, and I was made much of by them all. But, we were all made much of.

"An incident of the march to Boston deserves notice here. I have told it again and again, and you are all familiar with it. The Corps had reached Springfield. The weather was intensely hot, and Major Worth, determin

ing to make a night march, sent for me about eight o'clock in the evening, and directed me to proceed at once and make arrangements some thirteen or fifteen miles ahead for breakfast the next morning, saying that he would commence his march at ten o'clock. I was to lose no time and to go alone. When I had followed the orderly to the Major's tent, I was in extreme dishabille, and was sent back with a sharp reprimand and ordered to appear in full dress to receive the commands of the Commandant. So when I set out on my march I was in the uniform I would have worn at dress parade.

"The night was close, muggy is the word, and not a breath of air was stirring. There were no clouds and the stars shone overhead; but they wanted their usual radiance as it seemed to me. There was no turnpike, and the Boston road was sandy and at times sank between banks that long travel and the rains had gradually ruined on either side. In a little while, the mosquitoes began to worry me, and I took the long black plume I wore out of its socket, turned the lozenge shaped trap plate in front of my cylindrical leather cap, and used it as a flapper. I then ungirt my sword and hung it around my neck by the belt; undid my heavy silk sash, and, making a long loop, wore it across my shoulders, unbuttoning my coat, the collar of which was strangling me, and loosening the heavy stock that formed a part of a soldier's uniform in those days. I was much more comfortable and trudged steadily along, wishing all the time that I had company, and feeling in my very marrow the intense silence of the hour, unbroken even by the fall of my foot upon the sandy road.

"I do not know how far I had traveled, when I saw a light in the window of a small house on the left of the road, and perhaps a hundred yards from it. Crossing the stile

and following a path that led to the door, I inquired my way and the distance from Springfield, and being directed to keep always to the left hand road, I returned to the stile and pursued my journey. I had not gone far when I was joined by a man who came from a cross road, as it seemed, and of whose approach I was not aware until he spoke to me. That I was startled, I freely admit. He recognized me as one of the 'boys from West Point,' and as he walked along he entered into conversation with me, telling me, among other things, of a fearful murder that had been committed, but a short time before, at a spot on the banks of the Chicopee that we were approaching. He might have chosen a more agreeable subject, I thought, and with no expectation of trouble, yet with an uncomfortable feeling, I rearranged my dress, and clasped the hilt of my sword around my waist, and replaced my plume behind the lozenge shaped plate of my cap. By this time we had reached the bank of the Chicopee, lined with trees, between whose branches I could see the water with the stars reflected there but a few feet below the level of the road; while, on the opposite side, a densely wooded hill arose suddenly, whose trees, closing with those on the edge over the road, made it as dark as a tunnel almost. My companion then went on to tell me that the murderer had lain in wait for his victim where an opening in the foliage on the hill side enabled him to see him approach slowly along the road, on horseback. When he had a clear view, the assassin fired and the other man fell at once. Whereupon the former, taking him by the shoulders, dragged him into the wood alongside the river, and there 'smashed' his head with a heavy stone, using as an executioner's block a broad flag, which my informant pointed out to me and on which he assured me I could still see the blood, if