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Excerpt from In Old Bellaire
Bellaire is, or was when I knew it, a most charmingly quaint old town, half old English and half very old German, with the most delightfully aristocratic and exclusive society. Not that the town seemed quaint to me then, or the society remarkable: I had never known any other. But I have lived in many places since, and I have known many kinds of people, and I have come to think that none of them can compare with Bellaire or Bellairians in the sixties.
The college people held undisputed sway in west end, where Old Tomlinson, as we loved to call her, sat gray with her hundred years beneath the shade of her spreading maples and lindens, while the army people dominated the eastern end, in the fine old barracks built of yellow brick, brought over for the purpose by the English before the Revolution.
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