The small group of passengers gathered on the deck of the clipper, Surprise , to watch the approaching harbor while the cries of the gulls circling overhead mixed with the orders being barked at the crew.  One middle-aged man turned to the youth standing next to him.  “That’s Boston Harbor.  Won’t be too much longer before I’ll be home with my family and you’ll be on the road to Harvard College.”

“I can’t wait.  I’ll bet you can’t either,” the boy, who was tall and slim with curly black hair and the long, slender legs of a colt, replied with a grin.  He gazed at the activity going on at the fast approaching harbor.  “It’s been fifteen years since I was last in Boston.”

“You never mentioned you’d been here before,” the other man remarked in surprise.

“I guess I didn’t,” the younger man said with a shrug.  “I was born here and I lived here until I was between two and three.  My mother’s father still lives here.  He’s going to meet me when we dock.  I’m looking forward to seeing him again as much as I am attending Harvard.”

The dock was crowded with people, mostly sailors and longshoremen.  The tall, dark-haired young man looked around trying to spot anyone who might be his grandfather.  Suddenly he heard, “Adam Cartwright?” spoken in a deep, gruff voice and spun around to face a portly man with a neatly trimmed white beard.

“Grandfather,” he queried uncertainly.

“Aye, Adam, I’m your grandfather.  It’s good to see you again, lad.”  Adam held out his hand but Captain Stoddard took it and pulled him into a hug.  Then he stepped back and asked briskly, “Are those two valises all your luggage?”  Adam nodded, picking up the valises, so the Captain added, “Right now we need to get you on your way to Cambridge.”

Adam followed Captain Stoddard, who effortlessly threaded his way through the beehive of activity on the dock, to the cab waiting to drive them across the Charles River to Cambridge.  As they rode along, Adam noticed his grandfather couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off him.  Captain Stoddard suddenly realized he was making Adam uncomfortable and said apologetically, “I’m sorry for staring, but I’d forgotten how much you resemble your mother.  I’m pleased that you’ve your father’s height however.”

“My mother was small?” Adam asked arching one eyebrow quizzically.

“She was a tiny little thing,” Captain Stoddard answered wistfully, “just like her mother.  I remember she didn’t stand any higher than your father’s shoulder.  She never let her lack of inches stop her from speaking her mind though,” the Captain said with a fond smile.  He shook himself out of his reverie and said seriously, “I am glad you were still able to come after your family’s tragedy.”

“Pa insisted,” Adam replied in a flat voice.  “Marie wanted me to attend college and he wanted to make sure her wish came true.  It was really hard on Joe though.  I think he’s afraid that I am going away forever just like his mother.  I tried to explain and so did Pa, but he’s just too young to understand.  Hoss didn’t cry in front of me, but I know he’s not happy about me going either.”

“I know from your letters that the three of you are very close,” the Captain said slowly.

“Yeah.  I’m going to really miss them, but I promised that I’d write often and they said they’d write me.”  He smiled a little.  “Hoss hates to write so I don’t know how many letters I’ll get from him, and Joe’s just learning to write so he’ll have to have help from Pa.”

“Your father is an excellent correspondent so I can assure you that you’ll be receiving plenty of letters from him,” the Captain said encouragingly.  “You didn’t mention it, but have you decided what you intend to study?”

“Yes, I have,” Adam replied.  “I’ve been accepted at the Lawrence Scientific School.  It’s the newest professional school at the college.  I considered the Medical School and Paul Martin, our doctor, recommended it; but I don’t think I have the temperament to be a physician.”

“Did you consider the Law School?” the Captain queried, feigning disinterest.

“Not seriously.  My two passions are mathematics and understanding how things work so I am confident that I made the right choice.”

“It’s your decision,” the Captain agreed although privately he was disappointed that Adam had no interest in pursuing a career in law, which was often a steppingstone into a career in government.  “Now, you know where you’ll be staying, correct?”

“Yes, sir.  The college wrote me,” and he pulled out an envelope stamped with Harvard’s seal—a shield with the Latin motto, Veritas, written on three books, “that I would live at Massachusetts Hall.  My tutor told me what he knew about Harvard.  He said it was designed to be like Oxford and Cambridge in England.  Two students share a suite of bedroom and study, and the suites open onto long hallways.  Students eat their meals at the Commons.”

The Captain nodded and then said, “Your father had already sent me money and had me open a bank account for you in Cambridge long before you sailed, so that is taken care of.”  He smiled tentatively and then said, “I know you’ll be busy settling in, but I hope you can visit me this weekend.”

Adam shyly returned his grandfather’s smile.  “I would love to, Grandfather.”  He paused and then said hesitantly, “I’d like to talk with you about my mother if I may.  It still hurts Pa to speak about her, so I don’t ask, but I’d really like to know more about her.”

“You can talk with me, Adam,” the Captain replied, blinking back the moisture in his eyes.  “Talking about her makes her come alive for me.”
 

Adam arrived at Harvard College with his two large valises in hand.  He took in the red brick buildings that formed a quadrangle.  But which was Massachusetts Hall?  He saw another young man walking by so he said loudly, “Excuse me.”

The other young man stopped and asked, “Yes?” in a brusque tone.

“Could you tell me which building is Massachusetts Hall?” Adam asked diffidently.

The other student took in the valises in each of Adam’s hands, his too-long hair curling over his collar, and his unfamiliar accent.  “Freshman, huh?” he said in a condescending tone.  “You’re rather late.”

“I know,” Adam replied evenly.  “My ship didn’t arrive in Boston until this morning.”

The other raised his eyebrows at that but pointed and said, “That’s Massachusetts Hall.  If I were you, I’d hurry.”

Adam set off with long strides in the direction indicated.  He had to endure a lecture on his late arrival but eventually he was told his room number.  He hurried up the stairs and walked down the long corridor carefully reading the numbers on the doors.  Finally, he saw the door he was looking for.  It was closed so he set down one valise and knocked lightly.

“Come in,” said a slightly nasal voice.  He opened the door, picked up his other valise, and stepped inside.

The small room had two desks and chairs and each desk had a lamp.  Sitting at one of the desks was an extremely thin young man Adam’s age with mousy brown hair parted down the middle, large amber eyes under heavy brows, and a beak of a nose.  His face reminded Adam of a raptor’s.

“Hello,” Adam said warily.  “I’m your roommate, Adam Cartwright.”

“Aaron Wharton,” the other young man said standing up and holding out his head.  “I was beginning to think you wouldn’t show up.”

Adam shook his hand firmly saying, “I had a long way to travel.”

“Where are you from?” Aaron asked curiously.

“My family owns a ranch in western Utah.  I traveled over the Sierra Nevada mountains to San Francisco and from there I traveled by clipper ship to Boston.”

Aaron whistled.  “I guess you did travel a long way.  Up until now I’ve never met anyone who lived further west than the Berkshires.”

Adam smiled tentatively and then said, “How about you?  Where are you from?”

“My family owns a farm near Shelburne Falls,” Aaron replied.  “That’s in western Massachusetts.  We’ve farmed there since 1699.  I’m the first in my family to attend college.”  He grimaced a little adding, “My father doesn’t see what use a farmer has for a college education, but he finally said if it meant that much to me, he wouldn’t stand in my way.”

“He sounds like my father,” Adam said with a wry grin.  “My stepmother helped me convince him to let me attend college.”  He stopped then and arching one thick black eyebrow asked quizzically, “What are you studying?”

“I convinced my father I could learn practical things if I enrolled in the Lawrence Scientific School.”

“I’m enrolled there, too,” Adam said dimpling.  “I can hardly wait for classes to begin.”

“Right now you’d better get unpacked,” Aaron said with an answering grin.  “The bedroom is through here.”

Adam went through the connecting door and saw a small room with two identical beds (except that one had a bare mattress), two washstands and shaving mirrors, and two battered and scarred wardrobes and chests of drawers.  He quickly unpacked his other frock coat and trousers and hung them in the wardrobe with the pair of canvas work pants he’s bought at Levi Strauss & Co in San Francisco.  (Since he could pack only a minimum of clothing, his father had given him extra money and told him to visit a tailor in Boston.)  Then he carefully placed the linen dress shirts Marie had sewn for him along with two work shirts—one of red flannel and the other of blue calico—and his socks, handkerchiefs, ties, kid gloves, and second waistcoat in the chest of drawers along with his drawers, undershirts, and nightshirts.  Next he took out towels, sheets, blankets, and a rather squashed pillow from the larger valise.  He placed one set of sheets in the chest of drawers with the towels, and then he began to make his bed with the other set while Aaron perched on his narrow bed and watched.

As Adam finished his bed, Aaron spoke up.  “I have one piece of advice.”

“What’s that?” Adam asked.

“It may be the fashion to wear one’s hair that long out West, but I recommend you visit a barber as soon as possible.  In the meantime, I can at least trim it for you.”  Adam looked skeptical but Aaron said with a smile, “I cut my younger brother’s hair, and I would only trim the back, honest.”

Adam took another look at his reflection, noting how long and how curly his hair was, and said with a self-deprecating grin, “I think I’ll take you up on your offer.”

“Take off your coat then and sit down,” Aaron replied with a matching grin.  “We have just enough time before supper.”  He rummaged in his chest of drawers and pulled out a pair of scissors.  “I knew they’d come in handy,” he added with a lopsided grin.

As he snipped at Adam’s hair he asked, “So what classes are you taking this term?”

“First, I have analytic geometry,” Adam replied.

“I’m taking that.  We can go together,” and they shared a smile, both relieved that they would be able to enter their first class with someone they knew and could sit with.

“Then I have English literature,” and Aaron shook his head at that.  “Greek?”

“I’m taking Hebrew,” Aaron replied.  “How about history?”

“Yes, I’m taking history,” Adam said.  “Do you know which building is which?”

Aaron nodded and said, “I’ll show you after supper.”  He grinned broadly then.  “Say, do you even know where “university minor” is?”

Adam frowned.  “I don’t even know what it is.”

“I didn’t either so I can save you from embarrassment.  It’s what they call the privies,” and Adam rolled his eyes.  “Finished.”  Aaron pulled out his pocket watch, saying, “We’ll have to hurry to make it to the Commons on time.  Hope you like cod because I’m told that’s what we’re having tonight along with baked beans.  I have a wager with myself that we’ll be served baked beans at every meal but breakfast.”

When they walked into the Commons, Adam felt overwhelmed for a moment.  He’d never seen so many boys his own age before in a single room.  They were as noisy as a herd of stampeding steers.  He and Aaron got their food and found a place to sit, introducing themselves to the others at the table.

“I can tell you’re not from around here, Cartwright,” said one of the other students at the table—a thickset young man with protuberant blue eyes and a weak chin named Winchester.  “I’ve never heard an accent like yours.”

“I’m from Western Utah,” Adam replied.  “My family owns a ranch near Lake Bigler.”

“You’re joking,” Winchester sneered.  “I’m surprised that you had even heard of Harvard out on the frontier, let alone were able to pass the entrance examinations,” and Adam clenched his jaw to keep from making a retort.  “We’re on our way to one of Boston’s finest brothels.  You’re welcome to come along with us and sample the delights civilization has to offer.”  He turned to his friends with a leer.  “I’ve heard Indian squaws are all that’s available on the frontier.”

“No thanks,” Adam said quietly and Aaron said the same

“It looks like the farm boy and the cowboy are a pair of prudes,” Winchester jeered.  The others got up from the table laughing.

“I’d rather be a prude than a rake,” Aaron said quietly.

“I suppose I was naïve to think I wouldn’t find that attitude here at college,” Adam added reflectively.

“Uh-yup, you were naïve,” said another voice behind them and they both turned around to see that one of the other students had returned.  “Thomas Collingsworth, if you didn’t catch my name before,” he said extending his hand.  He was short and slender with patrician features and very fine, silvery-blonde hair.  Adam and Aaron exchanged a look and then they each shook Thomas’s hand.  “Don’t be too hard on Winchester and the others,” Thomas added, sitting back down at the table.  “They were taught the same manners you were but they look on Harvard as a chance to escape the parental eye.  Also,” he added, “they aren’t scholars; they are only here because their fathers, grandfathers and great-grandfathers are alumni and I’m afraid they plan on spending their time drinking and whoring.”

“They’re friends of yours?” Adam asked arching an eyebrow.

“We all attended Governor Dummer Academy,” and seeing their blank looks he added, “It’s a preparatory school—prepares you for college.”

“I studied with a tutor,” Adam replied and Aaron added, “I had extra tutoring from our schoolmaster, who was a Harvard graduate.”

“I was considered an oddity at the academy because I actually enjoy learning.  I’m planning on studying the classics here and literature is my real love.  What about you two?”

“Mathematics is my passion,” Adam answered.  “I’m enrolled in the Scientific School.”

“As am I,” Aaron added.  “I’m more interested in biology and botany.  Hope to be able to use what I learn to improve our farm.”

“And I want to learn how to use mathematics to solve engineering problems.  I can think of lots of uses for that on our ranch.”  Adam stopped then and said, “Aaron and I have two classes together—history and analytic geometry.”

“I’m taking history,” Thomas said with a smile.  “Are either of you taking Latin or Greek?”

“I’m taking Greek,” Adam replied and Thomas said, “Well, maybe we can sit together.  I think we’re going to be studying The Odyssey.  Should be interesting reading it in the original language.”  He grinned at them both saying, “I should caution you that the history professor is appalling.  My older brothers warned me to be prepared to die of boredom.”  As they finished eating, Thomas shared some of the stories he had about life at Harvard from his father and older brothers.  Since he’d visited the college several times, he took Adam and Aaron on a tour of the Yard.  They finished the evening at a tavern in Cambridge drinking beer and playing billiards.

The next morning Adam and Aaron both woke at dawn to a dormitory that was as silent as a tomb.

“I think we’re the only ones awake,” Aaron said softly as he managed to light the lamp on his chest of drawers.

“I have a feeling these city boys aren’t used to getting up and feeding and watering stock every morning before breakfast,” Adam replied in an equally soft voice.

“Not to mention milking cows,” Aaron added with a grin.  “Well, at least “university minor” should be empty.”

The two young men quickly slipped on trousers, socks and Balmorals, but they decided since there was no one else up they would just go in their undershirts.  After they returned, they made their beds, shaved and finished dressing, but there was still no sound of anyone else stirring.

“I’m thinking this will be a good time to study, but what will we do now to while away the time?” Adam asked.

“I packed my chess set.  Do you play?” Aaron asked.

By the time they finished their game, which Aaron won, they could hear the other students beginning to wake up and make their way to the privies.  Aaron checked his watch and said, “Another half hour until breakfast.  I’m starting to feel a little nervous.”

“Yeah, me too,” Adam replied.  “Nervous and excited.  I’ve waited so long to begin attending college.  It’s hard to believe it’s really going to happen.”

Classes proved to be anticlimactic.  Adam found the lecture in English literature interesting and was eager to begin studying The Canterbury Tales .  However, Thomas’s brother had been correct in his estimate of their history professor and the geometry professor wasn’t much better.  Fortunately, Adam found the subjects more interesting than the lectures.  He was dismayed to learn that a good part of his time would be spent giving recitations.  It was one thing to talk about assignments with his tutor and another entirely to discuss them in front of the entire class.  Still, they all had to endure it.

“I’m hitting the books after dinner,” Aaron said as he and Adam and Thomas headed for the Commons after their history class ended.

“I’ve a couple of errands to run first,” Adam said, “so I guess I’ll be spending my evening studying.”

“Save a little time for a couple of beers,” Thomas said.  “And maybe we could play some cards.”
“
Sure,” Adam replied with a grin.  “Do you play poker?”

“No, but I’d be happy to learn.  Are you game, Aaron?”

“We’ll be playing for matchsticks.  That’s all I can afford,” Adam interjected hastily, not wanting to embarrass his friend.  “Even if I had the money, my pa would skin me alive if he knew I was gambling.”

“Sure, I’m game,” Aaron said and Adam saw the gratitude in his eyes.

“Say, Thomas, do you know where there’s a barbershop in Cambridge?  And a tailor?” Adam asked, changing the subject.

“You should visit a tailor in Boston, but I can tell you where my brothers got their hair cut here in Cambridge.”

“I’m going to visit my grandfather in Boston this weekend so I guess I could wait and visit the tailor then,” Adam replied.

“You have family here?” Thomas asked.

“My mother’s father, Abel Stoddard.  He owns a chandlery on Commercial Street and he lives on Unity Street.  He invited me to visit; we hadn’t seen each other since I was around two, but we’ve corresponded over the years.  I’m his only grandchild.  I think my being able to visit Grandfather was one of the reasons my father agreed I could come back east and attend Harvard.”
 

Saturday morning Adam and Aaron were awakened by deafening claps of thunder and the steady beating of raindrops on their windowpanes.  “Oh no,” Adam groaned, “I forgot all about an umbrella.”

“You can borrow mine and then buy one while you’re in Boston.”

“But what will you do?”

“I’ll stay in and study like a good boy,” Aaron replied with an impish smile.  “I’m not going to bother with an umbrella going to university minor.  I’m not made of sugar and I won’t melt.  Let’s just get our towels out before we go and then we can dry off when we get back,” and Adam grinned his assent.

A couple of hours later he was on his way to the ferry that would take him across the Charles to Boston.  Aaron’s umbrella kept him reasonably dry above the waist but the driving rain left his long legs soaked.  He knew he must present a bedraggled site as he walked the streets.  Even with the directions Thomas had given him, he still had to ask for assistance from passersby before he found Unity Street. Once he had found Unity, it wasn’t difficult to find his grandfather’s house.  Like most of the others on the street it was made of untreated cedar shingles, now gray with exposure to the salt air.  He used the knocker on the front door, and it was answered by a plump middle-aged woman with graying brown hair.

“May I help you?’ she asked politely.

“I’m Adam Cartwright—“ he began but the woman cut him off.

“You’re little Adam!  Why, the last time I saw you, you were only this high,” and she gestured to a level below his knees.  “Oh, you were the prettiest little boy with those enormous eyes and those pretty curls.” She suddenly became aware of Adam’s discomfort and bewilderment.  “Oh, I am going on, aren’t I?  I worked for the Captain when you and your father lived here before you went west.  I’m Polly Stone and I’m your grandfather’s housekeeper now.  Oh my goodness, I’m keeping you on the doorstep.  Come in, come in, and I’ll let your grandfather know you’re here.  Give me your umbrella.”

She suddenly seemed to notice how wet he was.  “You’ll catch your death in those wet clothes.  Your grandfather’s clothes won’t fit, but you could use his dressing gown.  Then I could put these by the fire to dry.  Come with me.”

Bemused, Adam followed her up the stairs and down a narrow hallway. She opened a door revealing a cozy room with flowered wallpaper and a large window with lace curtains.  A lovely four-poster bed of walnut covered by a brightly-colored quilt dominated the room.  On one side of the window was a large highboy while a small combination bookcase and writing desk was on the other side.  There was a large wardrobe opposite the highboy and an armchair by a bedside table on one side of the bed with another by the window, while in one corner was a lady’s vanity.

“This was the room you and your father shared when you were little, and the Captain thought you could stay here when you visit.”  She paused and then said hurriedly, “I’ll go get the dressing gown and then you can change out of those wet clothes.”  She suddenly noticed his valise.  “You’d better give me that because those clothes will most likely need to be dried as well.”  After a moment’s hesitation Adam handed her the valise and she bustled out the door.

Adam glanced around the room and walked over to the vanity and picked up the hairbrush and comb and the little bottle of cologne.  Could they be Mother’s?  He moved to the wardrobe and opened it, finding an old-fashioned gown of cream silk printed with sprays of pink roses and violets.

“Your mother’s wedding dress,” a gruff voice stated, and Adam turned to find his grandfather watching him.  “Your father and I couldn’t bear to give this one away.  This was her room when she was growing up and when she and your father married, it was their room.  Then Benjamin shared it with you.  Your trundle bed is still there.” His eyes raked over Adam’s wet trousers.  “Polly said she’s bringing you my dressing gown so you can get out of those wet clothes.  Don’t want you catching a cold.  Wasn’t sure if you’d come in this downpour.”

As if on cue, Polly appeared carrying a dressing gown of plum brocade and a pair of thick wool socks.  “Here you are.  Just bring me the wet things after you’ve changed,” and then she and the Captain left him alone.  He slipped off his Balmorals, socks, trousers and frock coat and then put on the dressing gown, which was several inches short of his ankles, and the warm socks.  As he fastened the dressing gown, he heard a discreet knock.

“If you’ve changed, I’ll give your things to Polly to dry and we can visit in here.  Don’t imagine you want to be sitting in the parlor in my dressing gown,” the Captain said through the door.

“No, I wouldn’t,” Adam replied opening the door and handing his grandfather his wet clothes and the Captain chuckled.

“I’ll be right back.  Like a cup of tea or coffee?”

“A cup of coffee would be wonderful,” Adam replied.

“I thought you’d think so.  I’ll bring it up.”

When he returned, he found Adam examining the books in the bookcase.  He looked totally absorbed so the Captain cleared his throat before saying, “Your mother loved to read.  I sent you two of her books—Pilgrim’s Progress and Robinson Crusoe.   Didn’t know if a boy would be interested in the others—thought they might be too girlish.”

“My tutor had me read Pride and Prejudice, but I’d like to read Persuasion and Emma, if that’s all right?”

“Of course.  Read any of her books you’d like.”

“It looks as though she enjoyed Jane Austen,” Adam commented.  “And here’s the collected poems of John Donne.  Marie liked Donne.  The first poem she ever had me read was Death, Be Not Proud.”

The Captain saw the sadness in his grandson’s eyes and said gently, “He must have been a good poet if they both enjoyed him.”  Then he said briskly, “Well, our coffee is getting cold, so we’d best drink it.”

The Captain sat in the armchair by the window while Adam perched on the bed, and as they drank the Captain asked, “Settling in at the college?”

Adam nodded and added, “I like my roommate.  His family lives on a farm in western Massachusetts.  Farming and ranching are somewhat similar so it gives us something in Commons.”

“Besides the fact you’re not Boston Brahmins,” the Captain interjected with a sour smile.

“That’s right,” Adam replied with a wry grin of his own.  “However, we have made friends with one.  You know, it would be just as fair I’m beginning to think to divide the students up into those who came to learn and those who came to carouse.”

“That reminds me.  I hope you planned on coming to church with me tomorrow,” the Captain interjected.  “I attend the church where your parents were married, the Park Street Church.  It’s also where you were christened,” and Adam cocked an eyebrow at that.  There’d been no minister on the wagon train to christen Hoss, and they’d had to travel to Sacramento to find a priest to baptize Joe and there had been difficulties since Pa was neither Catholic nor willing to convert.  Adam had never even attended church regularly until he’d stayed with the Townsends in San Francisco while he was preparing for college.  However, Pa had always made sure they respected the Sabbath and every Sunday they would read from the Bible, pray and sing one of the four hymns Pa knew by heart: Amazing Grace, O For a Thousand Tongues to Sing, Love Divine, All Loves Excelling, or Jesus Lover of My Soul.  Suddenly the name Park Street Church teased at his memory.

  “That’s where William Lloyd Garrison gave his first anti-slavery speech, isn’t it?” he asked and Captain Stoddard saw the intensity in his gaze.

“That’s right,” the Captain agreed.  “I was away at sea then, but your grandmother and mother were there, and they wrote me about it.  He really stirred them up, let me tell you.  But it’s a good cause and I was proud that they supported abolition.” Adam was elated to learn that his mother had supported Garrison, for abolition was a cause he ardently espoused.  It was all well and good to talk about States’ rights, but the rights of individuals—individuals who were treated as nothing more than chattel—had to take precedence.  The two were both silent for a few moments drinking their coffee, and then the Captain said, “I was going to take you to the chandlery but that will have to wait.”

“I was planning on visiting a tailor; I had to pack light and so Pa gave me money and told me to have some clothes made here.  Now I’ll have to put that off as well,” said Adam.  “Does it rain like this often?  I didn’t even think to pack an umbrella and I’m borrowing Aaron’s.”

“I’m sure I have a spare you can have,” the Captain replied.  “You’ll need one because it rains quite a bit here.  Now, the rain might slacken so you could still run your errand.  That’s one thing about the weather; it’s very changeable.  Of course a storm on land doesn’t compare with one on the sea.”

“I know,” Adam replied, hi lips quirking up in a hint of a smile.  “As we were approaching Cape Horn, we were caught in a blizzard of snow worse than I’d ever seen in the mountains back home and there were waves the sailors said were sixty feet high.  One of them told me they call them “Cape Horn snorters.”

“I’ve heard of them,” the Captain said with a nod.  “I never sailed the southern seas, always the North Atlantic packets sailing between the United States and Europe.  We’d sail regardless of weather.  Ice was our greatest danger.”  He stopped and said casually, “I forgot to ask before, but how did you like your first sea voyage?  Were you sick?”

“It was wonderful,” Adam replied and his grandfather heard the delight in his voice and saw the light in his hazel eyes.  “I can certainly understand why you spent so many years at sea.  And no, I was never seasick.  Got a bit queasy when we went around the Horn I have to admit.”  He smiled shyly at his grandfather.  “When I was little, Pa used to tell me stories about when he sailed on The Wanderer with you.  He said you were the best captain he ever served under.”

“He was the best first officer I ever had, but don’t tell him I said so.  Wouldn’t want to give him a swelled head.  Did he ever tell you about the time ...” and grandfather and grandson spent the next hour swapping stories about voyages.

After dinner the rain slacked off a little and Captain Stoddard insisted on ordering a hansom cab to take Adam to the tailor’s.  He returned in time for supper and after they ate, he and the Captain played chess.

Sunday morning the sky was a brilliant blue so Adam and the Captain walked to church, the Captain pointing out historical sites such as the Old North Church and Paul Revere’s house.  (Since the Old North Church was so close to the Captain’s house, Adam asked why they weren’t going there.  “Because we’re Congregationalists, boy, not Episcopalians,” his grandfather replied brusquely.  Adam decided he wouldn’t mention that he’d attended a Methodist church in San Francisco.  He didn’t understand why people made such a fuss about different denominations; they were all Christians, weren’t they?) They arrived at the church just a few minutes before the service was to begin so they quietly slipped into one of the back pews.  Adam found the sermon interesting and he enjoyed hearing the choir sing.  After the service, a number of people approached them, but the first to hurry over was a plump, pretty woman with just a few silver strands in her ash-brown hair.  Before the Captain could even open his mouth, the woman got out in a choked voice, “Adam Cartwright.  I would know you anywhere; you look so like your mother, God rest her soul.”

“Adam, this is your mother’s good friend, Margaret Baldwin,” the Captain said.  “When you were a little baby, she helped Mrs. Calahan care for you.”

“I was your wet nurse,” Mrs. Baldwin added and Adam’s cheeks flushed scarlet while the Captain hid a grin behind his hand.  “I want you to meet my children,” she said and motioned forward two boys a few years younger than he was.  There wasn’t time for more than an introduction for several other people were crowding around wanting to meet the young man who had traveled back to Boston from the western frontier.  Aside from Mrs. Baldwin, Adam paid particular notice to several lovely girls, particularly one with a heart-shaped face framed by silky, golden-brown curls named Julia Quincy.  He hoped another Sunday he would have an opportunity to say more than hello to her.  The family in the pew in front of them, the Flemings, after being introduced, came back a few minutes later with the choir director.

“We told Mr. Reed that you have the loveliest baritone voice and he should recruit you for the choir,” Mrs. Fleming stated.

“We can always use more baritones and basses,” Mr. Reed said with a smile.  “We practice on Sunday mornings before the service so it shouldn’t interfere with your studies.  I hope you’ll consider it, Mr. Cartwright.”

Adam looked sideways at his grandfather who said in his customary gruff manner, “I think you should, lad.  I don’t have much of an ear, but even I can tell you have a fine voice.”  So Adam told Mr. Reed he would be at next Sunday’s practice.  Just then he spied Aaron walking away from the church.  “Excuse me,” he said hurriedly and broke away from the crowd surrounding them.

“Aaron,” he called and Aaron stopped and turned his way.  “Come meet my grandfather,” he said when he’d caught up with his friend, and placed his hand on Aaron’s arm and moved him back toward Captain Stoddard.  “Grandfather, this is my roommate, Aaron Wharton.  Aaron, my grandfather, Captain Abel Stoddard.”

“Pleased to meet you, my boy,” the Captain said extending his hand and Aaron took it with a shy smile.  “Next Sunday, why not stop by my house and walk to church with me?  Adam here is joining the choir and so he’ll be leaving earlier.”

“Unless you would also like to join the choir?” Mr. Reed asked hopefully.

“You wouldn’t want me,” Aaron grinned broadly.  “I can’t carry a tune in a bucket,” and Mr. Reed shrugged ruefully.

“Aaron, I hope you’ll have dinner with Adam and me,” the Captain interjected quickly.

“I would love to, thanks so much, Captain Stoddard,” Aaron replied agreeably.

After dinner, Aaron excused himself but Adam said he would return to the college later.  When his friend had gone, Adam turned to his grandfather and asked, “Could you give me directions to where my mother is buried?”

The Captain started to say he would take him, but he saw something vulnerable in his grandson’s normally veiled eyes and only provided him with directions.  Adam walked the streets, oblivious to the lovely Indian summer, and soon stood before his mother’s granite headstone in the shade of a weeping willow.  He couldn’t stop the tears from filling his eyes and running down his cheeks as he read the dates of her birth and death.

“Oh, Mother, no one told me you weren’t even twenty when you died.  Pa says it’s not my fault, that sometimes it just happens that way, but it’s hard not to think that if it hadn’t been for me, you’d still be alive.  Some people would say I have been very unlucky to lose you and Inger and Marie, but I know I’ve been blessed to have the three of you as mothers.  It’s just that I have so many memories of Marie and a few happy ones of Inger, but I have none of you.  Pa has talked to me a little—I know it was you that chose my name—but even after all these years, it still hurts him to speak of you.  I hope that by reading the books you loved and talking with Grandfather that I’ll finally have a chance to know you.  Pa did tell me that you’d be pleased at my attending Harvard, and I plan on making you proud of me.”

“Pa,” Hoss said around a mouth full of eggs and bacon as the three Cartwrights gathered around the breakfast table, “when will we get a letter from Adam?  He’s been gone a long time.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, son,” Ben corrected automatically.  “I hope we receive one soon.  It takes longer for mail to arrive from Massachusetts than from San Francisco.  He should have arrived at Harvard by now.  I imagine he’s been busy but I’m certain he’ll write us as soon as he can.”  He paused and then said thoughtfully, “Tell you what, why don’t we each write Adam a letter?  I’m sure he misses us and he’d like to hear from us just as much as we want to hear from him.”

“Joe don’t know how to write,” Hoss remarked.

“Doesn’t know,” Ben corrected.  “But he can tell me what he wants to say to Adam and I will write it for him.”  He turned to his youngest.  “Would you like me to help you write a letter to Adam?”

“Yeah,” Joe said with a big grin.

“All right.  Tonight after supper, we’ll write our letters to Adam.”

They all gathered around the kitchen table with paper and ink.  Ben held Joe on his lap and said quietly, “Tell me what you want to say to Adam.”

“Tell him to come home,” Joe said firmly.

“Joe, he won’t be coming home for some time,” Ben said gently.  “Why don’t you tell him about Susan the cat?”

“Okay,” Joe answered with a grin.  “Tell Adam we gots a cat to catch the mice, an’ her name is Susan, an’ she’s black with white feet like socks.  Her tongue tickles when she licks me.  I like her,” he added watching his pa’s hand make squiggly marks on the paper.

“I was gonna write ‘bout Susan,” Hoss complained.

“You still can,” Ben replied.  “Tell him how I paid fifty cents for her because we needed a cat so badly.  And you can tell him how Susan shares the mice she catches with us.”  Hoss grinned and began writing.  Ben turned back to Joe.  “Do you want to say anything else?”  Joe nodded and Ben saw his huge green eyes begin to swim with tears while his lower lip and chin began to quiver.

“I miss him.  I want him to come home now.”

“I know you do,” Ben replied softly kissing his cheek, “and Adam misses you, too.  Now let’s get you ready for bed and then Pa will tell you a bedtime story.  Okay?” and Joe nodded but he still looked so mournful it broke Ben’s heart.  If only there had been a way to allow Adam to fulfill his dream without hurting Joe and Hoss...and me.

“Pa,” Joe said as Ben tucked him into bed, “tell me a story about Adam.  About Adam when he was little like me.”

“All right,” Ben agreed, understanding his youngest son’s need to feel close to his older brother.  He sat on the edge of the bed and Joe reached for his hand linking their fingers.  “When Adam was about your age, he and Hoss’s mama, Inger, and I were traveling west in a covered wagon from Illinois to St. Joseph, Missouri.”

“What about Hoss?” Joe interrupted.

“Hoss wasn’t born yet,” and Joe frowned in concentration, trying to imagine a world without Hoss.  “Most of the time,” Ben continued, “Adam rode in the wagon with Inger, but sometimes he got tired of sitting and wanted to get down and walk.  We told him he mustn’t wander off but one day he saw some raspberries growing along the side of the road.”

“Adam likes raspberries,” Joe stated emphatically.

“Yes, he does, and when he saw them he forgot all about not wandering off.  He went from bush to bush and ate so many raspberries that his stomach began to hurt and he looked around and realized he couldn’t see the wagon any more.”

“I bet he was scared,” Joe said, his own eyes big and round.

“Yes, he was,” Ben replied, “but he wasn’t any more scared than Inger and I were when we stopped to rest our oxen and realized Adam was nowhere in sight.”

“What did you do?” Joe demanded.

“We called and we called for him, but got no answer so we decided to turn around and go back and look for him.  We kept calling for him until we were both hoarse, but there was no sign of him.  We were so scared and so worried.  Inger was in tears, and so was I,” and for a moment he relived the utter terror he had experienced when he feared his young son would die of exposure or dehydration before he could be found.

“Really, Pa?” Joe asked.  “You was cryin’?”

“Yes, I was, Joe.  That’s how scared I was that something had happened to my little boy.”  He hid a small smile at the skepticism on Joe’s face on hearing his oldest brother referred to as his father’s little boy.  “But then we saw someone riding up on a horse.  As soon as he got close enough the rider shouted, ‘Did you folks lose a little boy?’”

“’Yes!’ I shouted back.  ‘Is he all right?’”

“’He’s pretty scared and he’s got a bellyache from eatin’ too many berries,’ the boy riding the horse told us, ‘but we took him to our farmhouse and my pa sent me to see if I could find his folks.  Come on, I’ll show you the way.’  When we got to the farm, Inger jumped down from the wagon and I leaped off my horse and we ran inside.  The farmer’s wife had seen us coming and opened the front door for us.  ‘He’s all right,’ she told us.  ‘I had him lie down in our bedroom and he’s cried himself to sleep.’  We hurried into the bedroom and there he was.  His eyes and his nose were red and swollen from crying and he was all curled up in a ball.  He woke up when we came in and started crying again holding out his arms, sobbing, ‘Papa.  Mama.’ Inger sat on the bed and took him in her arms and hugged him and kissed him.”

“Did you have a necessary talk with him?” Joe asked curiously.

“I would have except he had been so frightened that I really thought he’d learned his lesson.  Besides, with Inger hugging and kissing him, it was pretty hard for me to spank him.  I just waited my turn and then I hugged him and kissed him.  He had to stay in the wagon from then on though unless Inger or I walked with him.”

“I’m glad you found him,” Joe said in a sleepy voice, his eyelids drooping.

“So am I,” Ben said softly and leaned over and kissed Joe’s honey-blond curls that were so like Marie’s, thankful again that his oldest and youngest sons resembled their mothers so strongly.

When Ben returned, Hoss put his pen down and wriggled his fingers.  “Did you finish your letter?” Ben asked as he sat back down at the table.

“Yup,” Hoss answered.  “I told him about Susan and about Lucy’s new piglets and about Beauty gonna have a foal and Hop Sing’s new rooster.”

“That sounds like a wonderful letter,” Ben said smiling at him and adding, “I know Adam will enjoy it.”

Hoss beamed at his father’s praise and decided he’d best finish those pesky arithmetic problems his teacher had assigned him.  I shore wish Adam was here to help me with these problems, he thought sadly.
 

Late in the afternoon a few days later while Hop Sing was preparing supper, Hoss was doing his evening chores and Joe played with the Noah’s Ark he’d inherited from Adam and Hoss, Ben returned from a visit to Mormon Station for supplies, calling, “There’s a letter from Adam!”

“A letter from Adam!  Yahoo!” Hoss shouted running out of the barn.  “What’s he say?”

“I haven’t read it. I thought we’d wait and read it after supper,” Ben replied.
Hoss opened his mouth to argue, but caught himself.  “Shore hope we eat fast.”  He looked longingly at the letter in his pa’s hand.

By unspoken agreement, they did all eat as quickly as possible and Ben insisted Hop Sing join them as he read Adam’s letter aloud.  Ben sat on the Windsor settee he and Adam had made for the cabin and Joe crawled on his lap, while Hoss sat Indian-style on the floor facing his father and Hop Sing stood behind Ben.  Ben opened the letter carefully and began to read in his mellifluous bass.
 
 

— 1854

Dear Family,

I have been here at Harvard for almost a week now and I realized I needed to write and let you know how things are going with me.  My roommate is a young man named Aaron Wharton from western Massachusetts.  He has never been to Cambridge or Boston before, so I guess you could say we are both like fish out of water, but we are managing.  I know you would all like Aaron.  He is serious, but he has a great sense of the ridiculous.  I am not certain how Hop Sing would feel about him because he doesn’t have much of an appetite and he is skinny as a rail just like Ross.   (Only Hoss could see the cook’s lips twitch in a smile at those words.)

I thought that I would describe my typical day.  Aaron and I are both up with the sun.  First thing, we put on some clothes and visit  “university minor,’ which is what everyone calls the privies. (Ben had to smother a chuckle before continuing but Hoss guffawed loudly and even Joe giggled.) ... Then we go to the Commons for breakfast.  I must tell you that the food they serve in the Commons is nowhere near as good as Hop Sing’s.  (In this instance I guess Aaron is lucky that he doesn’t care much about food; he just eats whatever is put before him.)  Another freshman, Thomas Collingsworth, whose father, grandfather, and great-grandfather all attended Harvard, told us that in the past there have actually been riots about the quality of the food served at the Commons.  I don’t know what it was like back then, but I don’t think the food is that horrible.

After breakfast I attend recitations and lectures and then it is time for dinner at the Commons.  Most of the afternoon I study although I have managed to do a little exploring in Cambridge, sometimes with Aaron and sometimes on my own.  One of the first things I did was to visit a barber and a tailor.  I can’t afford the sartorial splendor of some students, but in some ways, I am glad of that.  Aaron’s family is not wealthy and I wouldn’t want to lord it over him.  We are becoming good friends.  We are both in the Lawrence Scientific School so we are taking some of the same classes.  He’s been telling me about growing up on a small farm with his parents and siblings and I’ve been telling him about life on a ranch.

Hoss interrupted.  “What’s siblings?”

“Brothers and sisters,” Ben replied and then he continued reading.
 

...This term I attend lectures and recitations in analytic geometry, Greek, English Literature, and history.  (Freshmen are expected to take an ancient language and I have had enough of Latin, and between Hebrew and Greek, I chose Greek.) Even though the instructor is a dreadful bore, I am still enjoying analytic geometry.  The history lectures are the worst.  The instructor speaks in an appalling monotone, which makes it difficult to remain awake and the more so because at intervals he will stop speaking and close his eyes as if in prayer.  Aaron and I have heard he is notorious for boring his students to death.

 I dread the recitations.  We have to stand before the instructor and the other students and talk about assigned passages of the text.  (In a language class, you translate the assigned passages.)  The instructor and the other students ask you questions.  I just hate having to stand up in front of everyone to talk.  My palms always sweat and I feel like I am going to be sick.  Aaron hates them, too.  In fact, I haven’t met anyone who likes recitations.  Thomas Collingsworth said that his father told him that in his day, all the instruction was done by recitation.  All I can say is, “Thank God for progress!”

Aaron and I have both joined the Speakers Club.  Many freshmen join and it is proving to be a good way to make friends.  (When we are upperclassmen we hope to be invited to join the Hasty Pudding.)  Some of the wealthy students are very snobbish, but not all.  Thomas comes from a very wealthy old family but he is friendly to everyone.  Like Aaron and me, he is interested in learning, which I was surprised to discover is not true of all the students.  He is studying the classics and the only class all three of us have together is history.  (He and I are both taking Greek though.)

I miss all of you very much, but mostly I am enjoying myself.  Grandfather invited me to visit him this weekend.  (I see I forgot to mention that he was there to meet me when the Surprise docked. We talked a little on the way to Cambridge, but we’ll have more opportunities to visit this weekend.)

Affectionately yours,
Adam

“I just don’t understand how Adam would rather be in Boston studyin’ than home with us,” Hoss said sadly and Joseph added belligerently, “Me neither.”

“Boys, your brother has a thirst for learning that none of us has,” Ben replied quietly.  He hugged Joe and reached over to squeeze Hoss’s shoulder.  “It’s the way Adam has always been since he was a little boy and if we love him, then we just have to accept it.”

“I want him to come home,” stated Joe in an angry tone that ended in a sob.

“We all do, Joseph, but we’re just going to have to be patient until he earns his degree,” Ben said quietly, kissing Joe on the cheek and ruffling his curls.  “Now that we have a letter from Adam, why don’t we each write him one in reply?  Okay?”

Aaron walked into the room to find Adam sitting at his desk bent over a book.  When Adam looked up, Aaron could see his eyes were suspiciously bright.  “Still no letter from home?” he asked quietly.

“No,” Adam replied, hiding his face behind his book.  He took a deep breath and said slowly, “I told you it’s not that surprising.  It takes forever for a letter to get from Western Utah to Massachusetts.  And sometimes they get lost.”  He glanced quickly at his friend and said softly, “I’m all right, Aaron.”

“I know you are,” Aaron protested, just a touch too firmly.  “I also know you’ve spent enough time on geometry.  How about we go drink some beer and play a couple of games of billiards?  Be a different way to study geometry.”

“Sure,” Adam replied with a smile, but Aaron saw it didn’t reach his eyes.

Adam was in better spirits when they returned a few hours later.  As soon as they entered Massachusetts Hall, a voice called out, “Cartwright!  Wait.”  Adam and Aaron halted and a classmate ran over to them.  “I have a gift for you, Cartwright.  An elderly gentleman dropped this off for you.  Said to tell you it was mailed to his address,” and he handed Adam a large bulky envelope addressed in his father’s handwriting.

“I guess patience really is a virtue,” Aaron said, grinning hugely.  “I’ll go on over to the Commons and I’ll see if I can smuggle some food back to you.  Happy reading,” and he slapped Adam on the back.

“Thanks, Aaron,” Adam replied, and Aaron saw the joy in his friend’s eyes before he turned and ran up the stairs to the privacy of their suite.

When Aaron returned, he found Adam sitting at his desk writing with a huge grin on his face.  “So I take it everything is all right back on the Ponderosa?”

“Sure is.  Pa bought a kitten for 50 cents to cut down on the mice,” Adam said and Aaron whistled.  “No, she’s worth the money, believe me.  Cats are scarce on the frontier and the mice get in the grain for the horses and they invade the kitchen as well.  Joe drew me a picture of Susan.  See,” and he held up a pencil drawing.

Aaron admired the drawing and then said, “So what other news did you get?”

“Pa said he sold 50 head of beef at Placerville at $15 a head.  They started a school in Mottsville and Hoss is attending.  He doesn’t like it at all; says he wishes I were back home so I could help him with his schoolwork.”

“I take it Hoss is not a scholar.”

“No, not at all.  He’s not stupid; in fact, he’s smarter than I am about some things.  They just don’t happen to be academic,” Adam said a little defensively.  “He’s got a way with animals that makes him invaluable on a ranch.”

“He’d be welcome on a farm, too,” Aaron said quietly and Adam relaxed and smiled at his roommate.

“He can put himself in another person’s shoes and see things from his point of view; he’s very empathetic.”  Adam then added with a huge grin, “He’s big and he’s strong.  He’s only 12 but he’s already 5’5” and he has a stocky, powerful build.  Last time we got in a fight was a few of weeks before I left to come here.  I ended up with a black eye, a split lip and various bruises and, as the pièce de résistance , he knocked me out cold with a roundhouse punch.  That kinda scared him because he didn’t know how strong he really is.  Heck, I didn’t know either or I wouldn’t have fought with him, that’s for sure.”

“Almost forgot,” Aaron interjected.  “I did manage to smuggle some food for your supper.  Crab cakes”

“Thanks, Aaron.  I’ll finish this letter to Hoss, and then I’ll eat,” Adam replied smiling warmly at his friend.

“Hoss, how many times do I have to tell you not to talk when you have food in your mouth,” Ben said sternly.  Hoss looked so crestfallen that he relented and said with a smile, “Why don’t you go see who it is?”

“Me, too!” Joe said jumping up and running to the door before his father could even open his mouth.

“Hey, Doc,” Hoss said smiling his gap-tooth grin at Dr. Paul Martin as he drove his buggy into the yard.  “Ain’t no one sick here.”

“Hello to you too, Hoss,” Dr. Martin said with a friendly smile as he stepped out of the buggy.  “Hello Joe,” and he tousled the little boy’s honey-blond curls.  “Ben,” he said as the oldest Cartwright stepped onto the front porch,  “I knew I’d be headed out this way so I offered to deliver your mail.”  He paused to heighten the suspense before adding, “It’s from Cambridge.”

“From Adam?” Joe asked excitedly.

“That’s right.  I have a letter for Master Eric Cartwright, one for Master Joseph Cartwright and one for Mr. Ben Cartwright,” Dr. Martin answered with a beaming smile.

“Can you stay for supper, Paul?” Ben asked.  “We’ll read Adam’s letters aloud.”

“Thanks.  I’d love to,” Paul replied.  “Be good to hear how Adam is getting along.”

“Hoss, put up Dr. Martin’s horse, please.  Then come finish your dinner.”

After they finished eating, they all gathered in the front room that Marie had called her parlor.  While the others looked at him expectantly Ben opened his letter and began to read.
 

 
— 1854

Dear Pa,

First, I got your letter and Hoss’s and Joe’s.  I enjoyed hearing about Susan and getting Joe’s picture of her; I hope she is able to cut a swath through the Ponderosa’s rodent population so you will get a good return for your fifty cents.  Sounds like you already have from what Hoss wrote.

“What’s he mean by cut a swath through the rodent population?” Hoss interrupted.

“He means he hopes Susan will kill lots of mice and rats,” Ben replied.  “Now hush and let me continue.”

“Susan ain’t big enough to tackle no rats,” Hoss added and then his voice trailed off as he saw his father glaring at him.
 

…Tell Hoss not to feed her too many scraps.  She’ll hunt better if she’s a little hungry.

It was good to hear you got such a great price for the cattle, Pa.  I know you’ll find it hard to believe, but I missed the drive.  It’s the wide-open spaces and the vast sky full of stars that I miss, not those ornery steers.  There are many advantages to living in a city, but they certainly are crowded and dirty and loud.  Sometimes it’s hard to think in the hubbub.  Aaron feels the same way, but even he says a cowboy like me probably would find his family’s farm too confining, and I have a feeling that he’s right.

I visit Grandfather every weekend.  He is rather frail now (although he’ll never admit it) but I suppose that is to be expected.  We spend much of our time talking about my mother.  I do understand that it is difficult for you to talk about her, Pa, but after listening to Grandfather, I really feel I am beginning to know her.

Ben had to break off then and blink back the tears that threatened.  “Pa,” Joe said fearfully.  “It’s all right, Joe,” Ben said in an unsteady voice.  “I’m just feeling sad about Adam’s mama and Adam never having a chance to know her.”

“Like I never knew mine,” Hoss said sadly and Ben gave his shoulder an affectionate squeeze.  Joe didn’t completely understand about his brothers having different mothers than his, so he sat quietly looking at Ben with anxious eyes.  After a few moments Ben collected himself and continued reading.
 

…On the weekends, I stay with Grandfather Saturday nights.  He has me sleep in Mother’s old room.  He said when I was a baby you and I slept there.  He even showed me the trundle bed where I used to sleep.  I feel very close to Mother there.  On Sundays, I go to church with Grandfather and I’ve joined the choir.  The first time I attended church I felt like the Prodigal Son, or maybe the Lost Sheep would be a better analogy.  I met some of Grandfather’s old friends and friends of Mother’s and of yours.  I am afraid I can’t remember the names of everyone who asked to be remembered to you, but I do remember Mrs. Baldwin.  (Grandfather told me that she had been my mother’s dearest friend and she informed me that she had been my wet nurse.  I rather wish she hadn’t mentioned that!)

Neither Ben nor Paul could hide a grin at those words but Joe asked, “What’s a wet nurse?” wrinkling his nose in puzzlement.

“Would you like to answer that, Paul?” Ben queried with a teasing gleam in his eyes.

Paul raised his eyebrows but then turned to Joe, who looked at him expectantly.  “Well, Joe, you know how baby animals drink their mother’s milk when they are very small?”

“Sure.  Everyone knows that,” Joe replied.

“Well, human babies are the same.  But sometimes, the mother dies and so another woman who is nursing her own baby will volunteer to nurse the other baby as well.  Your father has told me that Adam’s mother died when he was born so he needed to find a woman who would nurse him, and Mrs. Baldwin was that woman.”

“We fed Lucy’s extra piglets with a bottle,” Joe said frowning.

“And if your father couldn’t have found a wet nurse for Adam, that’s what he would have done.  But it is better for the baby to have human milk rather than cow’s milk.”

Joe looked unconvinced but Ben forestalled any questions by saying, “Let’s get back to Adam’s letter, all right?”
 

...I met her two sons; one is a couple of years younger than I am and the other looks to be about Hoss’s age.  Grandfather said she had a daughter who was my first playmate.  I asked if I could meet her but he told me she died of diphtheria when she was very young.  Told me I had it as well.  I can remember measles and the mumps, but I guess I was too young to remember diphtheria.

Some of your old friends have daughters about my age who are very pretty, and I am hoping to further an acquaintance with one of them.  Her name is Julia Quincy.  I haven’t worked up the courage yet to do more than speak to her after the church service, but I don’t have much time for courting anyway.  Usually after church I visit Mother’s grave.  It is so peaceful there and brings to mind Gray’s lines: “Beneath those rugged elms, that yew tree’s shade/Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap,/Each in his narrow cell forever laid ...”

Aaron and I are both learning to adjust to college life and we have so much work to do that we really haven’t had time to explore much of Cambridge or Boston.  Many of the other students are from very wealthy old families and they have little use for a pair of country boys like us.  There is a jingle I heard recently.  You may have already heard it, and it pretty much sums up many of my classmates:

        I come from the city of Boston,
        The home of the bean and the cod,
        Where the Cabots speak only to Lowells,
        And the Lowells speak only to God.

Of course, not everyone is so arrogant; Thomas Collingsworth, whom I mentioned in my last letter, has been very friendly to us.  The three of us are going to supper in Boston this Friday evening.  Since Thomas is a native Bostonian, we are letting him choose the restaurant.  I hope to hear from all of you soon.

Affectionately yours,
Adam

“Well, Hoss, how about yours?” Ben asked as he carefully folded the letter.

“No, read mine next, Pa!” Joe shouted.

“There is no need to shout, Joseph,” Ben said firmly.  “All right with you, Hoss?” he inquired and Hoss nodded.  He was torn because he wanted to keep Adam’s letter private, so it would be something just between the two of them, but he knew his family was curious about what Adam had written him.  After all, they were sharing their letters.
 
 

— 1854

Dear Joe,

Thanks for the picture of Susan, Little Buddy.  I showed it to Aaron and we both thought that it was wonderful.  He tells me that they have lots of cats living on their farm to get rid of mice, but none of their cats is as amazing as Susan.

Yes, Little Buddy, I do miss you an awful lot, but I am enjoying school and making new friends here and spending time with my grandfather.  Autumn is really beautiful in New England.  The trees turn scarlet, orange, gold, and purple and it’s great fun to walk through the piles of fallen leaves and listen to the crackling and crunching noise they make.  Sometimes I go to the harbor in Boston and watch the tall clipper ships and the seagulls soaring overhead and smell the sea air.  I’ve been to Bunker Hill and imagined what it must have been like to see the colonists and the redcoats fighting there.  I’ve also seen the Old North Church and Paul Revere’s home and the site of the Boston Massacre.  It’s just so exciting to actually see where so many of the events in our history took place. Maybe someday when you are grownup, you and I and Hoss can come to Boston and I can show you all those wonderful places.

Affectionately yours,
Adam

“It does sound like Adam is having a wonderful time,” Paul said with a smile.  “I have to admit I envy him the libraries and booksellers he can visit.”

“I still wish he’d come home.  It’s more fun here than in old Boston,” Joe said with a scowl.  “I guess it’s a good thing he can visit his grandfather,” he added dejectedly.  He turned to look at Ben quizzically.  “How come Adam has a grandfather and Hoss and I don’t?”

“You and Hoss have grandfathers,” Ben replied placing his arm around Joe’s shoulders.  “You, Hoss and Adam have a Grandfather Cartwright, my father, but he died when I was about Hoss’s age.  Your mother’s father and Hoss’s mother’s father are also dead.  Only Adam’s mother’s father is still living.  He’s an old man so I am glad he has this chance to spend time with Adam and they can get to know each other.”  He turned to Hoss then with a smile.  “Ready to read your letter, son?”

“Okay, Pa,” Hoss replied and carefully opened his letter and unfolded it.
 
 

— 1854

Dear Hoss,

That Lucy is really amazing!  I told Aaron about the size of her litter and he was astounded.  He said none of their sows had ever had more than eight piglets in a litter.  I knew I could count on you to take good care of Beauty, Little Brother.  You tell Pa I’d be pleased to give you her foal to raise.  With that quarter horse of Mr. Marquette’s as the sire, I think there’s a good chance the foal could be a good mount for you.  I can hardly believe you’ve grown an inch just in the time I’ve been gone.  Guess I won’t be able to call you “Little Brother” much longer.

Last weekend was the annual football contest between the freshman and sophomore classes.  The sophomores won, but we gave a good account of ourselves.  I have a feeling Pa, Grandfather, and Dr. Martin wouldn’t have approved of my participation since the game can be really brutal.

(Hoss glanced nervously at Ben and saw he was frowning, but plunged ahead.  He would have to let Adam know that he would be reading his letters aloud and to send anything really private on a separate sheet.)
 

...The object of the game is to move the ball across a goal line.  You can do it by kicking, running or throwing it.  The opposing team will try to tackle you so you can’t score a goal.  I never had possession of the ball so I only got a few bruises.  Aaron didn’t ever have the ball either but he got a black eye along with bruises.  One of the boys who was tackled got two broken ribs and others had broken collarbones, broken arms and teeth were knocked out.  One sophomore was knocked unconscious but he’s all right now.  If I had your build, maybe I would have done better.

“Probably would have ended up in a hospital,” Ben muttered angrily.

“It’s part of college life, Ben,” Paul said soothingly.  “That football match has been going on for years; the college keeps threatening to stop it, but they haven’t done it yet.”

Ben saw Hoss was looking at him nervously and said, “Go ahead, Hoss.”
 

...Wish I could be there to help you with your arithmetic, but I know Pa will help if you ask.  At least your teacher sounds nice and I hope you’ll make friends at the school.  I am so glad I was given Aaron as a roommate because we are really becoming good friends.  To some people here a cowboy like me is sort of a freak; I think they expect me to be totally uncivilized.  It makes me angry but sometimes it works to my advantage.  I can tell some of the girls I meet find me a little dangerous.  Unfortunately, I think their parents view me the same way and they don’t want their daughters to have anything to do with me.  Oh well, as I wrote Pa, I don’t have any time for courting now anyway.

Give Beauty an apple for me and take good care of her.  Let me know if she has a filly or a colt.

Affectionately yours,
Adam

“It sounds as though Adam is finding libraries and booksellers are not the only advantages Boston has over Mormon Station,” Paul commented as Ben glared at him.  Paul chuckled and then said cheerfully, “Don’t glower, old friend.  Adam is not one to allow his heart to rule his head.  You know that.”

“Don’t know why he wants to write about girls,” Joe complained.  “What did he mean they think he’s dangerous?  Adam ain’t dangerous,” he snorted.

“I think he means he’s different from the young men they know and women are always intrigued by someone who’s different,” Paul answered with a teasing smile at Ben.

“He’s not gonna marry a girl there, is he, Pa?” Hoss asked apprehensively.

“I certainly hope not,” Ben stated emphatically.  “He is only eighteen years old; that’s much too young to be thinking of marriage.  Besides, he wrote us he doesn’t even have time to court now, so I don’t think we need to worry about him getting married.”
 

One rainy afternoon in late September, Adam and Aaron were in their study while the rain beat against the windowpanes and occasionally a flash of lightening would light up the sky followed almost immediately by an enormous clap of thunder.  Aaron slammed his geometry textbook shut and threw his pencil down in disgust.  Adam looked over raising one eyebrow.  “Euclid should have been hanged before he could invent geometry,” Aaron answered the unspoken question, scowling at the textbook.

“What’s the problem?  I finished our assignment so maybe I can help,” Adam said getting up from his desk to stand behind Aaron so he could see what he was working on.  He frowned as he looked intently at Aaron’s work and then his face lightened.  “Look, this is where you went wrong,” he said pointing.  “You just miscalculated.  If you correct that error, then you’ll have the correct solution.”

Aaron looked carefully where Adam was pointing, frowning at the problem.  Then he broke into a broad grin.  “I see.  Thanks, Adam.”  He looked sideways at his friend before saying, “You really like geometry, don’t you?”

Adam nodded.  “I’ve always liked mathematics.  No one else in my family does though.”

“Sounds like the rest of your family is normal,” Aaron said with a grin and Adam playfully punched him in the arm before going back to his own desk.  Aaron was finishing his geometry when he heard Adam whistle and looked up inquiringly.

“You won’t believe this, Aaron,” Adam said shaking his head.  “If I used this kind of language my pa would have washed my mouth out with lye soap.”

“What’s it say?” Aaron asked curiously.

“Here, see for yourself,” Adam said handing Aaron the book.

“I thought you were studying English Literature,” Aaron said in a puzzled tone.

“I am.  The Canterbury Tales was written in Middle English.  Here, this is the part I was talking about,” and he got up and put his finger on the passage.

“Oh my word!” Aaron said, his eyes opened wide and a faint blush on his cheeks.  “I always thought of people in medieval times as being more refined.  The code of chivalry—you know.”

“The Knight’s Tale is like that, but not this one.  This one makes you realize people haven’t really changed that much over the centuries.  It may be ribald, but it’s funny.”  He smirked a little but then quickly sobered up.  “I hope I’m not called on for a recitation on The Miller’s Tale,” he said swallowing nervously.

The next day as the students filed in and took their seats, Adam noticed nearly everyone looked nervous and he understood that they all dreaded being called on to discuss this assignment.  The professor entered and Adam dropped his eyes and nervously rubbed the back of his head and smoothed down his hair.  The professor looked around the room and made his selection.

“Mr. Cartwright, please favor us with your observations on The Miller’s Tale,” the professor said briskly.

Adam rose slowly to his feet and faced the professor.  “The Miller’s Tale is a fabliau; however, the four characters in it are unique individuals and not merely caricatures as is usually the case.  The plot is extremely convoluted, and part of the fabliau’s joke lies in the plot’s absurdity.  I think The Miller’s Tale is a parody of The Knight’s Tale .  Both tell of two young men who are rivals for the hand of a woman.  As we discussed in our last class, the woman in The Knight’s Tale is passive—willing to be the prize of whichever young man wins the fight.  The woman in The Miller’s Tale is not at a shy virgin but the young wife of an old man and she is not at all passive; she chooses which young man will be her lover.  The language of The Knight’s Tale is very refined while the language in The Miller’s Tale is,” and Adam stuttered slightly, “v-very earthy.”  He hurried on, eager to finish.  “I think that the juxtaposition of these two tales indicates that Chaucer wanted to show that underneath the refined and flowery language, the behavior of the two aristocrats is not really that different from the bawdy actions of the student and the parish clerk.”

“Interesting thesis, Mr. Cartwright.  Does anyone else have anything to contribute?” the professor stated as Adam let himself relax.

“I think Mr. Cartwright is taking the tale too seriously.  After all, Chaucer himself said it was a joke,” one of the snobbish students stated condescendingly

“I found the language vulgar and offensive.  I was particularly offended by Chaucer’s treating adultery as a joke and making a fool of the wronged husband,” added another piously.

Adam became so involved in defending his analysis that he forgot to be nervous and the class passed quickly.  This recitation had gone much better than the one in his Greek class.  In fact, he’d actually enjoyed it.
 

A few afternoons later Thomas came by Adam and Aaron’s suite asking if they’d care to go for a walk.  “Today is so glorious and I’m tired of study.  Some exercise would do us all good.”

“Sounds like a fine idea to me,” Aaron said enthusiastically, throwing down his pen and jumping up.  “I’ve finished my geometry and the rest of my lessons won’t take that long.  Come on, Adam,”

“I can’t,” Adam replied brusquely.  “I’ve got to finish this passage from The Odyssey.”

“I’ll help when we get back,” Thomas said winningly.

“I’ll manage,” Adam snapped.

“There’s no need to bite my head off,” Thomas said in an affronted tone and Adam realized he’d been rude.

“Sorry, Thomas,” he said sincerely and Thomas smiled slightly.  “I guess I could use some help,” he admitted reluctantly.

“After our walk.  You’ll think more clearly after you’ve gotten out of this stuffy room.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Adam replied with a wry grin as he closed his book, straightened his papers and put them neatly in a drawer before standing.

“You know, Adam, you need to work on accepting assistance gracefully,” Thomas said teasingly as they strolled through the Yard toward Old Cambridge.

“He may have grown up out west, but he’s still got that hard-headed Yankee stubbornness,” Aaron laughed.

“Uh-yup,” Thomas agreed.  “You can take a Yankee out of New England, but he’s still a Yankee.”

“Oh, shut up,” Adam laughed as they sauntered down Cambridge Street.
 
 
 

The trees lost their leaves and only their stark, bare branches were raised to the sky; the temperature dropped and there was a damp chill perpetually in the air while the sky seemed always to be gray and overcast.  Often the icy wind blowing off the Atlantic seemed to penetrate every layer of Adam’s clothing to his very bones.  He had never minded winter in the Sierras, but the cold damp of a New England winter he found difficult to take.

The last Saturday of October was unseasonably cold so he put on his overcoat, jammed his broad-brimmed felt hat on tightly and headed for the ferry.  He realized he must find Christmas gifts for the family and send them on their way if they were to reach the Ponderosa by Christmas.  First, he headed down Boylston Street.  He found a tobacconist shop where he bought some fine Virginia tobacco for his father.  He purchased a superbly crafted new bridle for Beauty’s foal as a gift for Hoss.  He couldn’t find anything suitable for Joe or Hop Sing so he headed over to Newbury Street where he found a toy store and wandered around happily trying to decide which toy his little brother would enjoy the most.  He finally settled on a set of toy soldiers, some of which wore the redcoat of British army during the Revolution while the remainder wore the either the blue of the Continental army or were dressed as militiamen.   The set even included a couple of artillery pieces and George Washington on a white stallion.  By the time he’d completed the purchase, it was noon and so he headed over to his grandfather’s for dinner and hoped inspiration would strike him.  On the way he passed The Old Corner Bookstore at the corner of School and Washington.  As he was browsing, he discovered the latest novel by Herman Melville.  His father had enjoyed Redburn and so Adam thought he would like this new work, Moby Dick, and bought a copy to send with the tobacco.  It occurred to him that his grandfather might also enjoy Melville so he bought another copy for him.  With great difficulty he resisted buying a copy of Hawthorne’s The Scarlet Letter for himself but couldn’t resist buying the latest of James Russell Lowell’s satirical Biglow Papers .

As he and Captain Stoddard devoured large bowls of clam chowder, he discussed his purchases and his difficulty finding a gift for Hop Sing.

“I don’t think I can be much help, lad,” the Captain said, taking a swig of cider.  “No idea what a Chinaman would like as a gift.”

“Excuse me,” Biddy, the Captain’s maid-of-all-work, said nervously as she cleared away their bowls.

“Yes, girl?” the Captain growled.

“I was j-just thinking,” Biddy stammered.  “This Chinaman is your cook, isn’t he?”

“That’s right,” Adam agreed smiling at the red-faced young woman.

“Well, I was thinking maybe you could find some spices here that would be hard to get at your ranch.  I’ll bet he’d like those.”

“He would,” Adam replied, dimpling.  “That’s a wonderful idea, Biddy.  If it’s all right with you, Grandfather, I’ll go shopping again right after dinner.  Then I’ll need to get all the gifts ready to mail.”

“I’ll take care of mailing them for you,” the Captain said with a smile.  “I’m certain they’ll reach your family in time for Christmas.”
 

Over the past months a routine had developed where Aaron would stop by Captain Stoddard’s home and walk with him to church and then have dinner at the Stoddard home with the Captain and Adam.  Polly and Biddy considered it a challenge to put some meat on the bones of two young men they considered much too skinny and the Captain enjoyed the company of both young men.  (He also noticed that Adam was less reserved in his friend’s company.)

The first Sunday in November, as the Captain, Adam and Aaron gathered around the dining table for Sunday dinner, the Captain announced, “Adam’s birthday is coming up on the fourteenth.  I’d like to have a birthday supper for him.  You’re invited of course, Aaron, and I thought, Adam, maybe you’d like to invite a few others—your friend, Thomas, for example.”

“You don’t have to, Grandfather,” Adam replied quietly and Aaron looked at him in surprise.

“I want to celebrate the birth of my only grandchild,” the Captain said in an equally quiet voice.  “Moreover, I know it’s what your mother would want.  Believe me, Adam.  She rejoiced at your birth,” and he paused, gazing unwaveringly into Adam’s veiled eyes, “even knowing what it had cost her.”

Aaron remained silent, keeping his eyes focused on his plate, but he didn’t have any difficulty deducing the cause of the tension between the two men.  The Captain saw the dawning joy in his grandson’s often-unfathomable golden-brown eyes and said gruffly,  “So you invite your friends for supper at seven.  Just send me word so Polly and Biddy will know how many to cook for.”

Adam’s birthday supper was a great success.  Along with Aaron and Thomas he invited two other freshmen enrolled in the Scientific School: Fred Thompkins and Rob Fisher.  Polly and Biddy outdid themselves preparing a huge meal, which the five young men consumed like a horde of ravening locusts, much to the women’s delight.  They toasted Adam with a vintage Burgundy the Captain had kept for a special occasion.  When the meal was over, they all adjourned to the parlor where the Captain had Adam sit in his armchair.

“I have a gift for Adam, and if what his father writes me is true, it’s a gift we can all enjoy with him.”  He reached behind the settee and pulled out a guitar. “Thought you could play some songs and we could all sing.”

Adam nodded, truly touched by his grandfather’s present.  “Thank you, Grandfather, it’s a wonderful gift,” he said smiling warmly and the Captain was pleased he had selected something that Adam truly appreciated.  “Just let me tune it and then we can sing.”  They all waited patiently and when he was ready Adam asked, “What shall we sing first?   Do you all know Oh Susanna?”

Rob had a beautiful sweet tenor voice so he and Adam led the singing with Adam sometimes singing harmony. Oh Susanna was followed by Pop Goes the Weasel, Green Grow the Lilacs and Wait for the Wagon .  Then with a teasing smile Adam said, “I have one I’d like to play for my grandfather.  If you don’t know it, you’ll pick it up,” and he began singing What Shall We Do with a Drunken Sailor?  The others soon joined in. After all twelve verses, Adam and his friends thanked the Captain for his hospitality and regretfully said their good-byes.  “Your grandfather is a capital fellow,” Fred remarked as they walked toward the ferry.  “Mine is a regular tartar.”

“Uh-yup, and it was splendid of him to invite us to visit again,” added Rob.  “The food is certainly better than it is at the Commons, and there’s more of it.”

Adam replied with a grin, “That’s because Polly and Biddy think Aaron and I need fattening up.”

“Which you certainly don’t, Rob,” Thomas said poking him in the ribs, for Rob was definitely a bit stout.

“Do ya think there’ll be a letter from Adam?” Little Joe asked for what Ben was sure was at least the 1,000th time.  He was definitely regretting his decision to take both boys with him on his trip to Mormon Station for supplies and the mail.

“Joseph, I have told you repeatedly that we won’t know until we get to Mormon Station.  Don’t ask me again, young man!” Ben barked, his irritation obvious. He saw his youngest son’s big green eyes, so like his mother’s, begin to fill with tears and even his middle son looked downhearted.  “I’m sorry, Joe,” he said in a gentler tone.  “I know you’re anxious to get a letter from Adam—we all are—but you will just have to wait until we get to the trading post.  Understand?” and he gave the little boy’s neck an affectionate squeeze.

Joe nodded and smiled just a little and Hoss said wistfully, “Shore hope Adam got our gift in time for his birthday.”

“I do, too, Hoss.  I know he’ll be very happy to get it,” Ben replied with a warm smile.

“Adam and me used to sing on the way.  Wanna sing, Joe?” Hoss asked his baby brother, who nodded his head vigorously.  Ben joined in, trying to keep them in tune, but it was hopeless.  Adam was definitely the musician in the family and Ben missed hearing his rich baritone voice in the evenings, leading the singing and accompanying them on the guitar.

Finally, they reached Mormon Station and Hoss jumped off the wagon almost before Ben had stopped the team and made for the trading post.  While Ben and Joe were approaching the building, Hoss came barreling out yelling, “There’s a letter from Adam!” and waving it in the air.  “Can we read it now, Pa?  Please,” and those pellucid blue eyes looked so pleading that Ben bit off his refusal.

“All right.  Is there just one?”

“Yeah, it’s addressed to the Cartwrights of the Ponderosa Ranch,” Hoss replied handing the letter to his father while Joe was literally jumping for joy.

“Joseph, stop that jumping or we’ll wait until we get home to read Adam’s letter,” Ben said severely and Joe immediately stopped.  He and Hoss waited impatiently as their father tore open the letter.
 
 

— 1854

Dear Family,

I hope you’ll forgive me for writing one letter to all of you, but I just didn’t have time to write individual letters and I figured you’d rather have one than wait until I had time to write three.
First, I want to thank you so much for my gift.  I’ve put the daguerreotype of the three of you on my chest of drawers so it’s the first thing I see when I wake up and the last thing I see when I go to bed.  I had a marvelous birthday.  Grandfather hosted a birthday supper for me and let me invite some of my friends.  We had a wonderful time and after the dinner, Grandfather gave me his birthday present—a guitar.  I played and we all sang songs; it reminded me of all of you and the evenings we spent singing.  That really made me miss all of you, but I don’t think anyone else knew I was sad.   Grandfather wanted it to be a happy occasion for me; he told me it was what Mother would have wanted.  I wouldn’t have disappointed him for anything.  The fellows all liked him very much.  Maybe after I graduate, I can convince him to come back home with me for a visit.  I know you would like him, Hoss and Joe, and he always asks me about you.  I took the daguerreotype with me to his house this weekend so he could see all of you.  He said he could see Joe was a little devil  (What a perceptive man, right, Pa?)  He was surprised by how tall Hoss is, and he said you’d gotten old, Pa, and wanted to know if I was responsible for your gray hair.  I said no; Hoss and I never caused you any problems.  All your gray hairs were caused by Joe.

Ben and Hoss laughed at this but Joe looked confused.  “What’s Adam mean, Pa?”

“Never you mind, Joe.  Your brother is only teasing.”

“But what’s he mean I made you have gray hair?”

“He means that you are mischievous and don’t always do as you’re told.”  Seeing Joe frown he added, “Remember Adam is only teasing, Joe.   He knows he caused plenty of my gray hairs.  Hoss even caused a few although not as many as you and Adam, I’ll admit.  Let’s get back to Adam’s letter, okay?”
 

As much as I enjoy geometry, I would have to say my English literature class is my favorite.  We finished The Canterbury Tales and now we’re studying The Faerie Queene.  Next we’ll study Hamlet and King Lear.  I’m also finding studying The Odyssey in the original Greek challenging.  Thomas has been a real help when I’ve struggled with some passages and I’ve been able to help Aaron with geometry.  I think I would enjoy history if it weren’t for the instructor.

I guess that’s all my news for now.

Affectionately yours.
Adam

“I’ll jest never understand how Adam can enjoy all that studyin’,” Hoss said shaking his head in wonder.

“Pa, ain’t Adam too big to be readin’ fairy stories?” Joe asked in genuine puzzlement.

“I think The Faerie Queene is written for grown ups,” Ben replied. “I haven’t read it but I think it’s really about Queen Elizabeth of England and her court.”

“Well, why didn’t he jest write about them?” Hoss asked wrinkling his nose in puzzlement.  “Why’d he put fairies in the story?”

“I’m afraid I really don’t know,” Ben said with a chuckle.  “Why don’t you write Adam and ask him?”

“I guess I will,” Hoss said.  “I still say it beats me how he could rather read about queens and fairies instead of bein’ here workin’ on the ranch.”

Just then Joe broke in with an engaging grin.  “Can we get some candy, Pa?  Please?” and Ben nodded his assent.

“There’s a package from Boston as well, Ben,” Will Cass said while Hoss and Joe decided what kind of candy they could get for the penny Ben had given each of them.  “It got here a week before the letter.  I didn’t mention it to Hoss because I thought it might be Christmas presents from Adam.”

“I appreciate it, Will.  Think we could load it with the supplies so the boys won’t notice it?”

“I think it’ll fit in an empty crate that used to have canned peaches,” Will said with a wink.  “Now, let’s see your list of supplies.”

“So, Aaron, are you planning on traveling home for Christmas?” Captain Stoddard asked one December afternoon as the three men were roasting chestnuts in the parlor after a huge meal topped off by apple brown betty with heavy cream.

“I’d like to, but I know it’s not practical since I might get caught in a snowstorm,” Aaron replied dejectedly, popping a chestnut in his mouth.

“Well, I’d like to invite you to spend Christmas here with Adam and me.  Thought we’d get one of those newfangled German Christmas trees since Adam and his father have written me that they always have one at their ranch.”

“That would be wonderful, Grandfather,” Adam replied enthusiastically.

“I’ve heard of Christmas trees but we never had one,” Aaron commented reaching for his mug of coffee.

“They’re lots of fun to decorate,” Adam stated enthusiastically.  “We can tie apples on the lower branches and string popcorn, walnuts, and cranberries to wrap around the entire tree.  Marie,” and he paused for a moment suddenly overwhelmed with sadness and had to blink back scalding tears, “Marie and Hop Sing would bake gingerbread men cookies and tie them on the branches.  Maybe Polly and Biddy would bake some for us.  Hoss and Joe and I would cut snowflakes out of white paper and hang them on the littlest branches.  Finally you tie on lighted candles.  We only left the candles lit for a few minutes because Pa thought they were too dangerous, but they are a lovely sight.”

“Putting lighted candles on a tree seems like a sure way to start a fire, but I guess we could have a bucket of water close by,” Captain Stoddard harrumped and the two young men tried to hide their grins.  “Polly and Biddy will cook us a fine Christmas feast—roast turkey with oyster dressing and giblet gravy, mince pies and plum pudding.”

“Stop, Grandfather.  Have mercy.  It’s hard enough enduring the food at the Commons,” said Adam with a wry grin.
 

The next Sunday Adam walked hurriedly from the Stoddard home to the Park Street Church, wool scarf wrapped around his neck and overcoat collar turned up against the northeaster Boston was experiencing. As he was slipping into his choir robe, two of the young female choir members approached him shyly.

“Um, Emma and I were just wondering if you were planning on caroling on Christmas Eve,” Julia Quincy said in a shy, rather breathless voice, and Adam felt his breathing quicken at the sight of her soft brown eyes.  He was only peripherally aware of Emma Hastings’ small, plump figure standing beside her.  “Most of the other choir members do every year,” Julia continued.  “We meet at the Boston Common with other church choirs and anyone else who wishes to participate right at sundown.  After the caroling, we all meet at Reverend Stockton’s house for hot chocolate and gingerbread, and we play Snapdragon and Truth.”

“Truth?”

“It’s a game.  The person who is It has to answer any question truthfully.  It’s great fun,” Julia answered.

“All right.  I’d like to go caroling,” Adam replied.  “And my friend Aaron can come as well?”

“Of course,” Emma Hastings interjected.  “We’ll look forward to seeing you both.”

“We’re going to practice this afternoon, and you and your friend are welcome to come,” Julia added with a shy smile.

“I’d like to come, but I’ll have to check with Aaron," said Adam with a shy smile of his own.

When Adam told Aaron about the caroling on their walk home from church, he was skeptical.  “Adam, you know I croak like a bullfrog,” he protested.

“Nonsense, my boy,” the Captain spoke up before Adam could even open his mouth.  “You can’t have a worse voice than mine, but I used to enjoy caroling when I was your age.  Who knows, you might get a chance to steal a kiss from a pretty girl under the kissing ball afterward,” and he laughed loudly at their red faces.

Then the Captain said, “I received a letter from your parents, Aaron, thanking me for inviting you to spend Christmas with me and Adam.  Said I should be receiving a package from them between now and Christmas,” and he chuckled as he saw the boy’s eyes light up.  “A package all the way from Utah Territory arrived back on Wednesday,” he added winking at his grandson and was rewarded by the sight of Adam’s deep dimple.
 

“I think I’ll just pretend to sing,” Aaron said as they walked to the church carrying the lanterns they’d need for the return journey.  “You know, just move my lips but not make any sound.  What do you think?”

“You could just stand by me and sing softly,” Adam suggested.  “You don’t sound any worse than Hoss does.  Of course, that isn’t saying much,” he smirked.

“Very funny,” Aaron retorted, giving him a shove.  Then he looked up.  “It’s snowing Adam!”

“Yeah, we’d best hurry,” Adam replied looking at the sky.

Aaron was relieved to see that he wasn’t the only person there who was not part of the choir.  He stuck by Adam and sang very quietly. Adam was very glad he’d come because in addition to traditional Christmas carols such as Hark the Herald Angels Sing, Joy to the World, God Rest You Merry Gentlemen and Silent Night, there was one new carol he’d never heard:  It Came Upon a Midnight Clear, which had been written by an American a few years earlier.  When the practice ended, they all stepped outside to discover the snow was still falling and everything was covered by and inch or two of pure white snow, looking like frosting on a cake.  The young men (and even some of the older ones) couldn't resist scooping up the fresh snow and packing it into snowballs while the women began building a snowman.  Only the setting of the sun broke up the fun.  Adam and Aaron lit their lanterns and made their way back to Captain Stoddard’s house where they planned to spend the night.  They would then catch the first ferry across the Charles and be back at the college in plenty of time for their geometry class.

“Aaron, look!” Adam exclaimed the next morning, running into his friend’s bedroom, carrying his trousers over one arm, and flinging open the shutters.  “There must be over a foot of snow!”

“I guess we’d better hurry and shovel your grandfather’s walk for him,” Aaron said shivering as he stood barefoot by Adam at the window.

“Yeah, but I hope he stays home today.  He shouldn’t be out in that snow,’ Adam said worriedly as he pulled his trousers on over his long woolen drawers.  “I’ll get our shaving water,” he said over his shoulder as he slipped out the door.  He returned a few minutes later with a pitcher of hot water and the two young men proceeded to lather their faces and sharpen their razors before shaving.  As they shaved they could smell the aroma of fresh-brewed coffee and knew that Polly and Biddy must have arrived.

“Think we can get a cup of coffee before we start shoveling?” Aaron asked and Adam replied, “I don’t see why not.”  Biddy poured them each a cup, which they drank hurriedly before putting on their scarves, gloves and overcoats.  They shoveled quickly, their noses and ears growing red from the cold.

“Wish I had one of those caps with earflaps I used to wear as a boy,” Adam commented.

“Me, too,” Aaron replied.  “Or a wool stocking cap.  Hats don’t keep your ears warm, that’s for sure.”

As soon as she heard the boys on the mud porch, Biddy began dishing up plates of sausage, eggs and popovers.  “Thanks, Biddy,” they said as they came into the dining room rubbing their cold hands, their ears and noses cherry-red from the cold.  “We’ve got to eat fast because it’s going to take longer than we planned to get to the ferry,” Adam added.

The Captain came in then and overhearing the remark said, “With this much snow, the ferry may be running late.  You might do better to just walk over the West Boston Bridge.”

“Let’s take our popovers with us and eat them on the way,” Adam suggested and Aaron nodded his agreement, his mouth being occupied with chewing his breakfast.

Adam and Aaron gulped down their breakfast and a second cup of coffee before hurrying to put their overcoats and scarves back on and then tromped into the dining room and grabbed their popovers.

“We’ll see you on Christmas Eve, Grandfather,” Adam called as he and Aaron hurried out the front door.

“Wish I’d worn my boots instead of Balmorals,” Adam muttered as he and Aaron fought their way through wet, heavy snow and a driving wind.  “Even wearing two pairs of socks, my feet are cold.”

“You can say that again,” Aaron agreed.  “I’m afraid my toes are going to freeze before we get to the Yard.”

They were so cold when they arrived at the college that they went back to their room to warm up.  They missed their first two classes but made it to the third.  After dinner the underclassmen had snowball fights and built snowmen until their fingers and toes grew numb with cold.

The days until Christmas Eve passed quickly and Adam and Aaron packed their valises and set off for Captain Stoddard’s home.  Biddy was waiting and insisted on taking the bags upstairs so they could leave with the Captain to get their Christmas tree.  The Captain and Aaron deferred to Adam’s expertise and let him select the tree while Polly and Biddy began popping popcorn.  (At Adam’s request they’d already purchased a large amount of cranberries and walnuts.)
 

“You two rascals are putting more popcorn in your bellies than you are on the string,” Captain Stoddard scolded half in jest and half in earnest as the three gathered in the Stoddard parlor in their shirtsleeves, sans neckties, to decorate the Christmas tree.  Polly and Biddy sat in another corner busily tying red ribbons on apple stems so they could be tied on the branches.

“Don’t scold the lads, Captain,” Polly said sternly.  “Biddy can easily make more popcorn,” and Biddy nodded vigorously.

“No, Grandfather is right,” Adam replied with a sheepish grin.  “I always tease Hoss about eating more than he strings.”  His smile dimmed then replaced by a wave of homesickness.

“I’m certain they’re missing you as well,” Captain Stoddard said quietly.  “I suppose they are decorating their tree about now.”

“Yeah,” Adam said quietly.  He made an effort then to smile for his grandfather’s sake.  “I’ll have to write them all about our tree.”

“Why don’t you draw them a sketch of us working on the decorations,” Aaron suggested.  “The Captain and I can string on our own.”  He was feeling homesick as well but also didn’t want to disappoint Captain Stoddard.

“I think I will, and I’ll make a copy for your family” Adam said enthusiastically.  He went and got his sketchbook and perched on the stairs where he could view the entire parlor.  His pencil flew over the sheet showing the bare fir tree in front of the bay window, the two women in the corner each with a bowl of apples in her lap and bright red ribbons draped over her chair, and the sofa where the Captain and Aaron sat at either end with bowls of popcorn, cranberries and walnuts on the table in front of them and a growing string piled on the floor.

“After you finish, I’ll add you to the sketch,” Aaron said with a grin and Adam nodded.  He was lost in his drawing when he heard Aaron say, “We’re almost done here.  Let’s trade places.”  When Aaron finished, he held up the completed sketch and they all admired it.  Then he suggested sketching them as they wound the string around the tree and tied on the apples, and he moved into the parlor so that he could concentrate on Adam as he directed the others.

“All right, enough sketching,” the Captain commanded after they finished wrapping the string and had most of the apples tied on.  “You and Adam can sketch the finished tree for your families.  Right now we need to finish hanging the apples and add the gingerbread men.”

“Then we need to cut out snowflakes to put on the smallest branches and a star to place on the top,” Adam stated.  “This tree will be as fine as any I’ve ever seen.”

“And if we’re to finish before you two leave to go caroling, we’d best get back to work,” the Captain added.

He had to admit the tree was a beautiful sight when it was finished.  “I think it’s time to put the gifts under it,” he said with a broad smile.  “I expect you can be trusted to keep your hands off them until tomorrow morning.  Right?” and they nodded eagerly.

“Actually, we have some gifts to go under the tree as well,” Adam said with a smirk.  “Come on, Aaron,” and they headed upstairs to their bedrooms, while the Captain headed for the cellar where he’d stashed the gifts their families had sent.
 

“Now, you lads need to bundle up; don’t want you catching your deaths,” the Captain said as Adam and Aaron were at the front door ready to go caroling.

“Grandfather, we are each wearing two pairs of socks, two pairs of drawers and two undershirts.  We’ll be fine,” Adam replied, rolling his eyes while Aaron smirked.

“Just make sure you wrap your scarves around your necks and wear your hats,” the Captain replied gruffly.  He remembered Benjamin writing him that Adam was susceptible to chest colds.

“Yes, Grandmother,” Adam replied ducking as the Captain reached up to playfully box his ears.

“Off with you lads and have a wonderful time.  Give the girls a kiss from me, eh?” he called as they set off for Boston Common.
 

Adam enjoyed the caroling tremendously and even Aaron felt brave enough to actually sing, albeit softly.  When the caroling was over, they adjourned with the rest of the Park Street Church choir to the parsonage.  Adam was standing with Aaron drinking hot chocolate when he noticed Julia Quincy and two of her friends were staring at him and giggling.  He started to ask Aaron if there was anything wrong with his appearance when the three girls walked over to them.  Emma Hastings (who barely stood as high as Adam’s shoulder) walked right up to him, stood on tiptoe, and placing her hands on his shoulders and pushing him down, kissed him right on the mouth.  No sooner did she kiss him than auburn-haired Louisa Phelps walked over and kissed him.  Adam’s cheeks were beginning to burn but he waited to see if the lovely Julia was also going to kiss him.  She smiled shyly before she too placed a quick kiss on his lips.