Brooks had attained nearly or quite his full height on entering college, nor was he slender.  His large frame was too loosely knit to admit of his becoming an athlete.  He had no interest in outdoor sports.  I do not recall that he was warmly diligent in study or general reading.  His mind worked quickly and easily.  Without effort he stood well in the class, absorbing whatever other knowledge he touched without much searching.  His countenance and head in boyhood were noticeably fine, the forehead broad and full, the beardless face lighting up readily with an engaging smile, the eyes large and lustrous.  It was evident that a good and able man must come out from the boy Phillips Brooks, but no one, not even President Walker, who was credited with an almost uncanny penetration in divining the future of his boys, would have predicted the career of Brooks.  Though decorous and high-minded he was not marked as a religious man.  If he were so, he kept it to himself.  Though sometimes hilarious, he was never ungentle or inconsiderate, a wholesome, happy youth, having due thought for others and for his own walk and conversation, but without touch of formal piety.  When I was initiated into the Hasty Pudding Club, I recognised in a tall fiend whose trouser legs were very apparent beneath the too scanty black drapery which enveloped him, no other than Phillips Brooks.  He was one of the most vociferous of the imps who tossed me in the blanket, and later, when the elaborate manuscript I had prepared was brought forth, was conspicuously energetic in daubing with hot mush from a huge wooden spoon the sheets I had composed with much painstaking.  The grand event in the “Pudding” of our time was the performance of Fielding’s extravaganza of Tom Thumb.  I think it was the club’s first attempt at an operatic performance, and it was prepared with great care.  I suppose I am to-day the only survivor among those who took part, and it is a sombre pleasure to recall the old-time frolic.  The great promoter of the undertaking was Theodore Lyman, able and forceful afterward as soldier, scientist, and congressman, who died prematurely; but the music and details were arranged by Joseph C. Heywood, later a devout Catholic, ending his career in Rome as Chamberlain of Pope Leo XIII.  In the cast Heywood was King Arthur and Lyman, general of the army.  There were besides, a throng of warriors, lords, and ladies wonderful to behold.  The costumes were elaborate.  Old trunks and attics of our friends were ransacked for ancient finery and appointments that might be made to serve.  Provision was made for thrilling stage effects, chief among them a marvellous cow which at a critical moment swallowed Tom Thumb, and then with much eructation worked out painfully on the bass-viol, belched him forth as if discharged from a catapult.  The music was an adaptation of popular airs, operatic and otherwise, to the words of Fielding, and was fairly good, rendered as it was by fresh young voices and