We all love you dearly. And thus it was that she came upon a book of Stevenson's verse—her first adventure into poetry. Then her eyes flashed. " "Where?" "At Yale. Boys, at the time of which we write, were attired like men of their own day, or certain charity-children of ours; and the stripling in question was dressed in black plush breeches, and a gray drugget waistcoat, with immoderately long pockets, both of which were evidently the cast-off clothes of some one considerably his senior. “But I wish,” she said, “I had some idea what I was really up to. The stranger turned his head at the sound.
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