professorships first in Bowdoin and later in Harvard College. Longfellow is the poet who has spoken most sincerely and sympathetically to the hearts of the common people and to children. This is due to his genuine kindliness. He was a lover of children, and especially of little girls. The style of Longfellow's poetry is notable for its simplicity and grace. As Emerson came from a family of preachers, so Lowell came from a line of lawyers, his family having been distinguished in that profession in every generation since their coming to America. His mother was a fine musician, and it was from her that Lowell inherited his taste for poetry. JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL As a boy he had free access to his father's library, one of the oldest and best private libraries of that time. He had every opportunity of education which wealth and leisure afforded, but at college he says he "read nearly everything except the books prescribed by the faculty." After graduating from Harvard he studied law and opened an office in Boston. But he soon decided that this was not the business for him. He published some poems, edited a magazine, and in 1855 succeeded Longfellow as professor at Harvard, and, like him, spent some years in study abroad. He was one of the founders of the Atlantic Monthly and was its first editor. Lowell was considered one of the greatest scholars in America in his time. He was of a happier disposition than Bryant, and has been called the Poet of June, as Bryant has been called the Poet of Autumn. Near the town of Haverhill, Massachusetts, not far from Hawthorne's birthplace, is the old homestead where Whittier was born. He had very little opportunity for education beyond JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER 1807-1892 what the district school afforded, except what he was able to give himself. In contrast with Lowell's splendid li brary, that of Whittier's father contained, as he says, "not a dozen books." His two years' attendance at Haverhill Academy was paid for by his own work at making ladies' slippers at twenty-five cents a pair. He began writing verses almost as soon as he learned to write at all, but his father discouraged this as frivolous, saying it would "never give him bread.” He wrote many idylls of domestic life, such as "Snow-Bound," and poems of farm life, of which the "Barefoot Boy" is a good example. Whittier's ruling traits of character are patriotism, love of freedom, and piety. He was fond of his friends, of chil dren, of animals, of quiet and peace, and of nature. He is called the Quaker Poet. We now come to the merriest, most jovial of the group represented in our selections, the witty professor of anatomy in Harvard College. He, also, comes of old Puritan stock. His OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES grandfather was a surgeon in the War of the Revolution. His father was a Baptist minister for over forty years in Boston. His mother was descended from the Dutch settlers of New York. Doctor Holmes, after studying some years abroad, practiced medicine for a time; then for the remainder of his long, busy life occupied the chair (the "settee," as he humorously called it) of anatomy, first at Dartmouth, then at Harvard. While his work as an author would have been enough to keep an ordinary man busy, it was rather a diversion for our energetic Doctor. He was one of the founders of the Atlantic Monthly and one of the most frequent contributors to it. In appearance, Doctor Holmes was of small body, fastidious in dress, "quick and nervous in his movements," with a "winning expression" of countenance. There was always a smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye. He was the humorist among American poets and is called the Poet of Mirth. GREAT AMERICAN AUTHORS MY ARRIVAL IN PHILADELPHIA* BENJAMIN FRANKLIN I was in my working dress, my best clothes being to come round by sea. I was dirty from my journey; my pockets were stuffed out with shirts and stockings, and I knew no soul nor where to look for lodging. I was fatigued with traveling, row5 ing, and want of rest, I was very hungry; and my whole stock of cash consisted of a Dutch dollar, and about a shilling in copper. The latter I gave the people of the boat for my passage, who at first refused it, on account of my rowing; but I insisted on their taking it. A man being sometimes more generous when 10 he has but a little money than when he has plenty, perhaps through fear of being thought to have but little. Then I walked up the street, gazing about till near the markethouse I met a boy with bread. I had made many a meal on bread, and, inquiring where he got it, I went immediately to the 15 baker's he directed me to, in Second-street, and asked for biscuit, intending such as we had in Boston; but they, it seems, were not made in Philadelphia. Then I asked for a three-penny loaf, and was told they had none such. So not considering or knowing the difference of money, and the greater cheapness nor the names 20 of his bread, I bade him give me three-penny worth of any sort. He gave me, accordingly, three great puffy rolls. I was surprised at the quantity, but took it, and, having no room in my pockets, walked off with a roll under each arm, and eating the other *From Franklin's Autobiography. Thus I went up Market-street as far as Fourth-street, passing by the door of Mr. Read, my future wife's father; when she, standing in the door, saw me, and thought I made, as I certainly did, a most. awkward, ridiculous appearance. Then I turned 5 and went down Chestnut-street and part of Walnut-street, eating my roll all the way, and, coming round, found myself again at Market-street wharf, near the boat I came in, to which I went for a draught of the river water; and, being filled with one of my rolls, gave the other two to a woman and her child that came 10 down the river in the boat with us, and were waiting to go farther. Thus refreshed, I walked again up the street, which by this time had many clean-dressed people in it, who were all walking the same way. I joined them, and thereby was led into the 15 great meeting-house of the Quakers near the market. I sat down among them, and, after looking round awhile and hearing nothing said, being very drowsy through labor and want of rest the preceding night, I fell fast asleep, and continued so till the meeting broke up, when one was kind enough to rouse me. This was, 20 therefore, the first house I was in, or slept in, in Philadelphia. Walking down again toward the river, and, looking in the faces of people, I met a young Quakerman, whose countenance I liked, and, accosting him, requested he would tell me where a stranger could get lodging. We were then near the sign of the Three 25 Mariners. "Here," says he, "is one place that entertains strangers, but it is not a reputable house; if thee wilt walk with me, I'll show thee a better." He brought me to the Crooked Billet in Water-street. Here I got a dinner; and, while I was eating it, several sly questions were asked me, as it seemed to be sus30 pected from my youth and appearance, that I might be some runaway. After dinner, my sleepiness returned, and being shown to a bed, I lay down without undressing, and slept till six in the evening, was called to supper, went to bed again very early, and slept 35 soundly till next morning. Then I made myself as tidy as I could, and went to Andrew Bradford the printer's. I found in the shop the old man his father, whom I had seen at New York, and who, traveling on horseback, had got to Philadelphia before me. He introduced me to his son, who received me civilly, gave 5 me a breakfast, but told me he did not at present want a hand, being lately supplied with one; but there was another printer in town, lately set up, one Keimer, who, perhaps, might employ me; if not, I should be welcome to lodge at his house, and he would give me a little work to do now and ther. till fuller busi10 ness should offer. The old gentleman said he would go with me to the new printer; and when we found him, "Neighbor," says Bradford, "I have brought to see you a young man of your business; perhaps you may want such a one." He asked me a few questions, 15 put a composing stick in my hand to see how I worked, and then said he would employ me soon, though he had just then nothing for me to do; and, taking old Bradford, whom he had never seen before, to be one of the town's people that had a good will for him, entered into a conversation on his present 20 undertaking and prospects; while Bradford, not discovering that he was the other printer's father, on Keimer's saying he expected soon to get the greatest part of the business into his own hands, drew him on by artful questions, and starting little doubts, to explain all his views, what interest he relied on, and in what 25 manner he intended to proceed. I, who stood by and heard all, saw immediately that one of them was a crafty old sophister, and the other a mere novice. Bradford left me with Keimer, who was greatly surprised when I told him who the old man 30 was. Keimer's printing-house, I found, consisted of an old shattered press, and one small, worn-out font of English,1 which he was then using himself, composing an Elegy on Aquila Rose, before mentioned, an ingenious young man, of excellent character, much 'The name given to a certain size of type. |