One morning Wholesome and I found open the iron grating of Christ Church
graveyard, and passing through its wall of red and black glazed brick,
he turned sharply to the right, and coming to a corner bade me look down
where under a gray plain slab of worn stone rests the body of the
greatest man, as I have ever thought, whom we have been able to claim as
ours. Now a bit of the wall is gone, and through a railing the busy or
idle or curious, as they go by, may look in and see the spot without
entering.
Sometimes, too, we came home together, Wholesome and I, and then I found
he liked to wander and zigzag, not going very far along a street, and
showing fondness for lanes and byways. Often he would turn with me a
moment into the gateway of the University Grammar School on Fourth
street, south of Arch, and had, I thought, great pleasure in seeing the
rough play of the lads. Or often, as we came home at noon, he liked to
turn into Paradise alley, out of Market street, and did this, indeed, so
often that I came to wonder at it, and the more because in an open space
between this alley and Commerce street was the spot where almost every
day the grammar-school boys settled their disputes in the way more
common then than now. When first we chanced on one of these encounters I
was surprised to see Mr. Wholesome look about him as if to be sure that
no one else was near, and then begin to watch the combat with a strange
interest.
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