The New England Magazine, Volume 1, No. 1, January 1886 | Page 7

Harvard College was
founded in 1638; William and Mary College, Virginia, in 1692; Yale
College, in 1701; College of New Jersey, in 1746; University of
Pennsylvania, in 1753; and Columbia College, in 1754.
[B] Appendix to President Sears' Centennial Discourse, page 63.
[C] Mr. Rogers was graduated in 1769. In 1772 he removed to
Philadelphia, and was ordained pastor of the first Baptist Church. He
became distinguished for his eloquence; was made a Doctor in Divinity;
and during the war rendered good service as a brigade chaplain in the
Continental army. He was an honored member of the Masonic
Fraternity, and an intimate friend of Washington. The late William
Sanford Rogers, of Boston, who died in 1872, bequeathed to the
University the sum of fifty thousand dollars to found the "Newport
Rogers' Professorship of Chemistry," in honor of his father, Robert
Rogers, who was graduated in 1775, and of his uncle, William Rogers,
a member of the first graduating class.

TO A FRIEND,
On his Departure for a Tour round the World.

BY EDGAR FAWCETT.
In losing thee, dear friend, I seem to fare Forth from the lintel of some
chamber bright, Whose lamps in rosy sorcery lend their light To
flowery alcove or luxurious chair; Whose burly and glowing logs, of
mellow flare, The happiest converse at their hearth invite, With many a
flash of tawny flame to smite The Dante in vellum or the bronze
Voltaire!
And yet, however stern the estrangement be, However time with
laggard lapse may fret, That haunt of our fond friendship I shall hold
As loved this hour as when elate I see Its draperies, dark with absence
and regret, Slide softly back on memory's rings of gold!

DANIEL WEBSTER AND COL. T. H. PERKINS.
A SUMMER-DAY OUTING IN 1817.
BY JOHN K. ROGERS.
On the morning of Thursday, the fourteenth day of August, 1817, Col.
Thomas H. Perkins, after an early breakfast, left his house on Pearl
Street in Boston, and entered his travelling carriage, having in mind a
pleasant day's excursion with his friend, Mr. Daniel Webster, for a
purpose which will hereafter appear.
Though now given up to trade, Pearl Street was then the site of some of
the finest dwellings in the city, and prominent among these was Col.
Perkins's mansion, afterwards munificently bestowed, with other gifts,
upon the Massachusetts Blind Asylum, which then became the Perkins
Institution for the Blind, and occupied the building for its charitable
purposes.
As his comfortable and substantial equipage passed down the gentle
slope towards Milk Street, it met with a general recognition, for Boston
was then a town of some thirty thousand people only, and Col. Perkins
one of its best known citizens.

Born in 1764, at five years of age he saw from his father's house in
King Street the Boston Massacre, and, after receiving a commercial
education, was for more than fifty years a leading merchant in his
native city. His military title was not one of courtesy only, but
conferred upon him as commander of the Corps of Independent Cadets,
a most respectable body of citizens, upon whom devolved the annual
duty of escorting the Governor and Legislature to hear the
time-honored Election Sermon, which marked the opening of the
General Court in the month of January.
Passing up Milk Street, then also a street of dwellings,--among them
the birthplace of Franklin,--the Old South Church, which at that time
had received only its first "desecration," was soon reached, and the
carriage turned into Washington Street, opposite the Province
House--with its two large oak trees in front, and the grotesque gilt
Indian on the roof with bended bow, just then pointing his arrow in
obedience to a gentle breeze from the south-west; then up the narrow
avenue of Bromfield Street, with the pretty view of the State House
over the combined foliage of Paddock's elms and the Granary Burial
Ground, and, turning into Tremont Street, our traveller was soon at
Park-Street Corner.
The noble church edifice which graces this sightly spot, though sadly
dealt with in its general symmetry, still lifts its lofty spire with
undiminished beauty, and justifies the stirring lines of Dr. Holmes:--
"The Giant standing by the elm-clad green; His white lance lifted o'er
the silent scene; Whirling in air his brazen goblet round, Swings from
its brim the swollen floods of sound."
As our friend turned into Park Street on this summer morning, the
giant's lance threw its shadow far into the Common among the cows
which were quietly cropping the dewy grass within the enclosure of the
old rail fence, while his brazen goblet clanged the hour of seven.
As the substantial citizen of to-day passes up this street, where shops
are rapidly displacing the mansions of the last century, he looks with
honest pride