I am sorry to say that after this incident Anthony did not hold the same position in our esteem that he had previously enjoyed.  Some half-dozen of us who cherished the old Institute feeling were inclined to make a hero of him, but by degrees the sentiment of the new management prevailed, and it was understood that Anthony was to be classed with those who must meekly endure an irreparable misfortune.  But Anthony did not seem to yield to this view.  He was very proud, and braced himself firmly against it.  He withdrew more and more from his schoolmates and devoted his time to books.  In the matter of scholarship he gained the highest place, and held it to the close of our two-years’ course.  In the mean time, his peculiarities were often made the subject of remark among us.  His growing reserve and dignity, his reputation as a scholar, and his reticence and isolation were frequently discussed.  And there was the mystery of his color.  It was a disputed question among us whether the African taint could be detected in his appearance.  Ray, the comrade who had revealed it, claimed that it was plainly perceptible, while Yerrinton, the oldest student among us, declared that there was not a trace of it to be seen.  He argued that Anthony was several shades lighter than Daniel Webster, and he asserted enthusiastically that he had various traits in common with that great statesman.  But, then, Yerrinton was a disciple of Beriah Green, and his opinion was not regarded as unbiassed.  For myself, I could never detect any appearance of African blood in Anthony, although my knowledge of its existence influenced my feelings toward him.  To me he seemed to carry himself with a noble bearing,—­under a shadow, it is true, yet as if he were a king among us.  I remember thinking that his broad forehead, slightly-Roman nose, mobile lips, and full features wore a singularly mournful and benevolent expression, like the faces sometimes seen in Egyptian sculpture.

I did not discuss the matter of his peculiarities with Anthony freely until after our school-days at the seminary were ended and he had left Whitestown.  His first letter to me was a partial revelation of his thoughts upon the subject of his own character and feelings.  He had gone to Philadelphia to teach in a large school, while I remained with my relatives in Whitesboro.  He wrote me that he was troubled in regard to certain matters of which he had never spoken to any one, not even to me, and he thought it would be a good thing for him to present them for consideration, if I was willing to give him the benefit of my counsel.  In reply I urged that he should confide in me fully, assuring him of my desire to assist him to the utmost of my ability.