byWilliamDeanHowellsWehadexpectedtostayinBostononlyuntilwecouldfindahouseinOldCambridge。Thiswasnotsosimpleamatterasitmightseem；fortheancienttownhadnotyetquickeneditsscholarlypacetothemodernstep。
　　Indeed，inthespringof1866theimpulseofexpansionwasnotyetvisiblyfeltanywhere；theenormousmaterialgrowththatfollowedthecivilwarhadnotyetbegun。InCambridgethehousestobeletwerefew，andsuchastherewerefelleitherbelowourprideorroseaboveourpurse。IwishImighttellhowatlastweboughtahouse；wehadnomoney，butwewererichinfriends，whoarestillalivetoshrinkfromthestoryoftheirconstantfaithinafinancialfuturewhichwesometimesdoubted，andwhobackedtheircredulitywiththeircredit。
　　Itissufficientforthepresentrecord，whichprofessestobestrictlyliterary，tonotifythefactthatonthefirstdayofMay，1866，wewentouttoCambridgeandbegantoliveinahousewhichweownedinfeeifnotindeed，andwhichwasnonethelessvaluableforbeingcoveredwithmortgages。Physically，itwasacarpenter’sbox，ofasortwhichisreadilyimaginedbytheAnglo—Americangeniusforugliness，butwhichitisnotsoeasytoimpartajustconceptionof。Atrimhedgeofarbor—
　　vita；triedtohideitfromtheworldinfront，andatallboardfencebehind；thelittlelotwaswellplanted（perhapstoowellplanted）withpears，grapes，andcurrants，andtherewasasmallopenspacewhichI
　　lostnotimeindiggingupforakitchen—garden。Ononesideofusweretheopenfields；ontheotherabrieflineofneighbor—houses；acrossthestreetbeforeuswasagroveofstatelyoaks，whichInevercouldpersuadeAldrichhadpaintedleavesontheminthefall。Wewerereallyinapoorsuburbofasuburb；butsuchisthefascinationofownership，eventheownershipofafullymortgagedproperty，thatwecalculatedthelatitudeandlongitudeofthewholeearthfromthespotwecalledours。
　　InourwalksaboutCambridgewesawotherplaceswherewemighthavebeenwillingtolive；only，wesaid，theyweretoofaroff：Weevenprizedthearchitectureofourlittlebox，thoughwehadbutsolatelylivedinaGothicpalaceontheGrandCanalinVenice，andwerenotuncriticalofbeautyinthepossessionsofothers。Positivebeautywecouldnothavehonestlysaidwethoughtourcottagehadasawhole，thoughwemighthaveheldoutforsomethingofthekindinthebracketsofturnedwoodunderitseaves。Butwewererichlycontentwithit；andwithlifeinCambridge，asitbegantoopenitselftous，wewereinfinitelymorethancontent。Thislife，sorefined，sointelligent，sogracefullysimple，I
　　donotsupposehasanywhereelsehaditsparallel。
　　I。
　　ItwasthemomentbeforetheoldAmericancustomshadbeenchangedbyEuropeaninfluencesamongpeopleofeasiercircumstances；andinCambridgesocietykeptwhatwasbestofitsvillagetraditions，andchosetokeeptheminthefullknowledgeofdifferentthings。Nearlyeveryonehadbeenabroad；andnearlyeveryonehadacquiredthetasteforoliveswithoutlosingarelishfornativesauces；throughtheintellectuallifetherewasanentiredemocracy，andIdonotbelievethatsincethecapitalisticerabegantherewaseveracommunityinwhichmoneycountedforless。Therewaslittleshowofwhatmoneycouldbuy；Irememberbutoneprivatecarriage（naturally，apublisher’s）；andtherewasnotonelivery，exceptaliveryinthelargersensekeptbythestablemanPike，whomadeuspaynowaquarterandnowahalfdollarforaseatinhiscarriages，accordingashelostorgatheredcourageforthecharge。Wethoughthimextortionate，andwemostlywalkedthroughsnowandmudofamazingdepthandthickness。
　　Thereaderwillimaginehowacceptablethiscircumstancewastoayoungliterarymanbeginninglifewithafullymortgagedhouseandasalaryofuntriedelasticity。IfthereweredistinctionsmadeinCambridgetheywerenotagainstliterature，andwefoundourselvesinthemidstofacharmingsociety，indifferent，apparently，toallquestionsbutthoseofthehighereducationwhichcomessolargelybynature。Thatistosay，intheCambridgeofthatday（and，Idaresay，ofthis）amindcultivatedinsomesortwasessential，andafterthatcamecivilmanners，andthewillingnessandabilitytobeagreeableandinteresting；butthequestionofrichesorpovertydidnotenter。Eventhequestionoffamily，whichisofsogreatconcerninNewEngland，wasinabeyance。PerhapsitwastakenforgrantedthateveryoneinOldCambridgesocietymustbeofgoodfamily，orhecouldnotbethere；perhapshismereresidencetacitlyennobledhim；certainlyhisacceptancewasaninformalpatentofgentility。Tomymind，thestructureofsocietywasalmostideal，anduntilwehaveaperfectlysocializedconditionofthingsIdonotbelieveweshalleverhaveamoreperfectsociety。Theinstinctswhichgoverneditwerenotsuchascanarisefromthesordidcompetitionofinterests；
　　theyflowedfromadevotiontoletters，andfromaself—sacrificeinmaterialthingswhichIcangivenobetternotionofthanbysayingthattheoutlayoftherichestcollegemagnateseemedtobegraduatedtotheincomeofthepoorest。
　　Inthosedays，themenwhosenameshavegivensplendortoCambridgewerestilllivingthere。IshallforgetsomeoftheminthealphabeticalenumerationofLouisAgassiz，FrancisJ。Child，RichardHenryDana，Jun。，JohnFiske，Dr。AsaGray，thefamilyoftheJameses，fatherandsons，Lowell，Longfellow，CharlesEliotNorton，Dr。JohnG。Palfrey，JamesPierce，Dr。Peabody，ProfessorParsons，ProfessorSophocles。ThevarietyoftalentsandofachievementswasindeedsogreatthatMr。BretHarte，whenfreshfromhisPacificslope，justlysaid，afterlisteningtoapartialrehearsalofthem，"Why，youcouldn’tfirearevolverfromyourfrontporchanywherewithoutbringingdownatwo—volumer！"Everybodyhadwrittenabook，oranarticle，orapoem；orwasintheprocessorexpectationofdoingit，anddoubtlessthosewhosenamesescapemewillhavegreaterdifficultyineludingfame。Thesekindly，thesegiftedfolkeachcametoseeusandtomakeusathomeamongthem；andmyhomeisstillamongthem，onthissideandonthatsideofthelinebetweenthelivingandthedeadwhichinvisiblypassesthroughallthestreetsofthecitiesofmen。
　　II。
　　WehadthewholesummerfortheexplorationofCambridgebeforesocietyreturnedfromthemountainsandthesea—shore，anditwasnottillOctoberthatIsawLongfellow。Iheardagain，asIheardwhenIfirstcametoBoston，thathewasatNahant，andthoughNahantwasnolongersofaraway，now，asitwasthen，Ididnotthinkofseekinghimoutevenwhenwewentforadaytoexplorethatcoastduringthesummer。ItseemsstrangethatIcannotrecalljustwhenandwhereIsawhim，butearlyafterhisreturntoCambridgeIhadamessagefromhimaskingmetocometoameetingoftheDanteClubatCraigieHouse。
　　Longfellowwasthatwinter（1866—7）revisinghistranslationofthe’Paradiso’，andtheDanteClubwasthecircleofItalianatefriendsandscholarswhomheinvitedtofollowhimandcriticisehisworkfromtheoriginal，whilehereadhisversionaloud。ThosewhoweremostconstantlypresentwereLowellandProfessorNorton，butfromtimetotimeotherscamein，andweseldomsatdownatthenine—o’clocksupperthatfollowedthereadingofthecantoinlessnumberthantenortwelve。
　　Thecriticism，especiallyfromtheaccomplishedDanteistsIhavenamed，wasfrankandfrequent。IbelievetheyneitherofthemquiteagreedwithLongfellowastotheformofversionhehadchosen，but，waivingthat，thequestionwashowperfectlyhehaddonehisworkuponthegivenlines：
　　Imyself，withwhateverright，greatorlittle，Imayhavetoanopinion，believethoroughlyinLongfellow’splan。WhenIreadhisversionmysenseachesfortherhymewhichherejected，butmyadmirationforhisfidelitytoDanteotherwiseisimmeasurable。Irememberwithequaladmirationthesubtleandsympatheticscholarshipofhiscritics，whoscrutinizedeveryshadeofmeaninginawordorphrasethatgavethempause，anddidnotletitpasstillallthereasonsandfactshadbeenconsidered。Sometimes，andevenoften，Longfellowyieldedtotheircensure，butforthemostpart，whenhewasofanothermind，heheldtohismind，andthepassagehadtogoashesaid。ImakealittlehastetosaythatinallthemeetingsoftheClub，duringawholewinterofWednesdayevenings，Imyself，thoughIfaithfullyfollowedinanItalianDantewiththerest，venturedupononesuggestiononly。Thiswaskindly，evenseriously，consideredbythepoet，andgentlyrejected。Hecouldnotdoanythingotherwisethangently，andIwasnotsufferedtofeelthatIhaddoneapresumptuousthing。Icanseehimnow，ashelookedupfromtheproof—sheetsontheroundtablebeforehim，andoveratme，growingconsciouslysmallerandsmaller，likesomethingthroughareversedopera—glass。Hehadashadeddrop—lightinfrontofhim，andinitsglowhisbeautifulandbenignlynobleheadhadadignitypeculiartohim。
　　AlltheportraitsofLongfellowarelikenessesmoreorlessbadandgood，fortherewassomethingassimpleinthephysiognomyasinthenatureoftheman。Hishead，afterheallowedhisbeardtogrowandworehishairlonginthemannerofelderlymen，wasleonine，butmildlyleonine，astheoldpaintersconceivedthelionofSt。Mark。OnceSophocles，theex—
　　monkofMountAthos，solongaGreekprofessoratHarvard，cameinforsupper，afterthereadingwasover，andhewasleoninetoo，butofafiercenessthatcontrastedfinelywithLongfellow’smildness。Irememberthepoet’saskinghimsomethingaboutthepunishmentofimpaling，inTurkey，andhisanswering，withanironicalgleamofhisfieryeyes，"Unhappily，itisobsolete。"Idaresayhewasnotsoleonine，either，ashelooked。
　　WhenLongfellowreadverse，itwaswithahollow，withamellowresonantmurmur，likethenoteofsomedeep—throatedhorn。Hisvoicewasverylullinginquality，andattheDanteClubitusedtohaveearlyeffectwithanoldscholarwhosatinacavernousarmchairatthecornerofthefire，andwhodrowsedaudiblyinthesofttoneandthegentleheat。ThepoethadafatterrierwhowishedalwaystobepresentatthemeetingsoftheClub，andhecommonlyfellasleepatthesamemomentwiththatdearoldscholar，sothatwhentheybegantomakethemselvesheardinconcert，onecouldnottellwhichitwasthatmosttookourthoughtsfromthetextoftheParadiso。Whentheduetopened，Longfellowwouldlookupwithanarchrecognitionofthefact，andthengogravelyontotheendofthecanto。Attheclosehewouldspeaktohisfriendandleadhimouttosupperasifhehadnotseenorheardanythingamiss。
　　III。
　　InthatelectcompanyIwassilent，partlybecauseIwasconsciousofmyyouthfulinadequacy，andpartlybecauseIpreferredtolisten。ButLongfellowalwaysbehavedasifIweresayingasuccessionofedifyinganddelightfulthings，andfromtimetotimeheaddressedhimselftome，sothatIshouldnotfeelleftout。Hedidnottalkmuchhimself，andI
　　recallnothingthathesaid。Buthealwaysspokebothwiselyandsimply，withouttheleasttouchofpose，andwithnointentionofeffect，butwithsomethingthatImustcallqualityforwantofabetterword；sothatatatablewhereHolmessparkled，andLowellglowed，andAgassizbeamed，hecastthelightofagentlegaiety，whichseemedtodimallthesevividerluminaries。WhilehespokeyoudidnotmissFields’sstoryorTomAppleton’swit，oreventhegraciousamityofMr。Norton，withhisunequalledintuitions。
　　Thesupperwasveryplain：acoldturkey，whichthehostcarved，orahaunchofvenison，orsomebracesofgrouse，oraplatterofquails，withadeepbowlofsalad，andthesympatheticcompanionshipofthoseelectvintageswhichLongfellowloved，andwhichhechosewiththeinspirationofaffection。Weusuallybeganwithoysters，andwhensomeonewhowasexpecteddidnotcomepromptly，Longfellowinvitedustoraidhisplate，asajustpunishmentofhisdelay。OneeveningLowellremarked，withthecayennepoisedabovehisbluepoints，"It’sastonishinghowfondthesefellowsareofpepper。"
　　Theoldfriendofthecavernousarm—chairwasperhapsnotwideenoughawaketorepressan"Ah？"ofdeepinterestinthisfactofnaturalhistory，andLowellwasprovokedtogoon。"Yes，I’vedroppedaredpepperpodintoabarrelofthem，beforenow，andthentakenthemoutinasolidmass，clingingtoitlikeaswarmofbeestotheirqueen。"
　　"Isitpossible？"criedtheoldfriend；andthenLongfellowintervenedtosavehimfromworse，andturnedthetalk。
　　IreproachmyselfthatImadenorecordofthetalk，forIfindthatonlyafewfragmentsofithavecaughtinmymemory，andthatthesievewhichshouldhavekeptthegoldhasletitwashawaywiththegravel。
　　IrememberonceDoctorHolmes’stalkingofthephysicianasthetrueseer，whoseawfulgiftitwastobeholdwiththefatalsecondsightofsciencetheshroudgatheringtothethroatofmanyadoomedmanapparentlyinperfecthealth，andhappyinthepromiseofunnumbereddays。Thethoughtmayhavebeensuggestedbysomeofthetoysofsuperstitionwhichintellectualpeopleliketoplaywith。
　　InevercouldbequitesureatfirstthatLongfellow’sbrother—in—law，Appleton，wasseriouslyaspiritualist，evenwhenhedisputedthemoststrenuouslywiththeunbelievingAutocrat。Buthereallywasinearnestaboutit，thoughherelishedajokeattheexpenseofhisdoctrine，likesomeclericswhentheyareinthesafecompanyofotherclerics。HetoldmeonceofhavingrecountedtoAgassizthefactsofaveryremarkableseance，wherethesoulsofthedepartedoutdidthemselvesintheathleticsandacrobaticstheyseemsofondofoverthere，throwinglargestonesacrosstheroom，movingpianos，andliftingdinner—tablesandsettingthema—twirlunderthechandelier。"Andnow，"hedemanded，"whatdoyousaytothat？""Well，Mr。Appleton，"Agassizanswered，toAppleton’sinfinitedelight，"Isaythatitdidnothappen。"
　　OnenighttheybegantospeakattheDantesupperoftheunhappymanwhosecrimeisaredstainintheCambridgeannals，andoneandanotherrecalledtheirimpressionsofProfessorWebster。Itwaspossiblywitharetroactivesensethattheyhadallfeltsomethinguncannyinhim，but，aproposofthedeepsalad—bowlinthecentreofthetable，LongfellowrememberedasupperWebsterwasat，wherehelightedsomechemicalinsuchadishandheldhisheadoverit，withahandkerchiefnoosedabouthisthroatandliftedaboveitwithonehand，whilehisface，inthepalelight，tookonthelividghastlinessofthatofamanhangedbytheneck。
　　AnothernightthetalkwanderedtothevisitwhichanEnglishauthor（nowwithGod）paidAmericaattheheightofapopularitylongsincetoppledtotheground，withmanyanother。Hewasinverygoodhumorwithourwholecontinent，andatLongfellow’stablehefoundthechampagneevensurprisinglyfine。"But，"hesaidtohishost，whonowtoldthestory，"itcawn’tbegenuine，youknow！"
　　Manyyearsafterwardsthisauthorrevisitedourshores，andIdinedwithhimatLongfellow’s，wherehewasanxioustoconstitutehimselfaguestduringhissojourninourneighborhood。Longfellowwasequallyanxiousthatheshouldnotdoso，andhetookaharmlesspleasureinout—
　　manoeuvringhim。Heseizedachancetospeakwithmealone，andplottedtodeliverhimovertomewithoutapparentunkindness，whenthelatesthorse—carshouldbegoingintoBoston，andbeggedmetowalkhimtoHarvardSquareandputhimaboard。"Puthimaboard，anddon’tleavehimtillthecarstarts，andthenwatchthathedoesn’tgetoff。"
　　Theseinstructionsheaccompaniedwithaliftingoftheeyebrows，andapursingofthemouth，inananxietynotaltogetherburlesque。Heknewhimselfthepreyofanyonewhochosetobattenonhim，andhishospitalitywassubjecttofrightfulabuse。PerhapsMr。Nortonhassomewheretoldhow，whenheaskedifacertainpersonwhohadbeenoutstayinghistimewasnotadreadfulbore，Longfellowanswered，withangelicpatience，"Yes；butthenyouknowIhavebeenboredsooften！"
　　TherewasonefatalEnglishmanwhomIsharedwithhimduringthegreatpartofaseason：apoorsoul，notwithoutgifts，butalwaysreadyformore，especiallyiftheytooktheformofmeatanddrink。HehadbroughtlettersfromoneofthebestEnglishmenalive，whowithdrewthemtoolatetosavehisAmericanfriendsfromthesadconsequencesofwelcominghim。SoheestablishedhimselfimpregnablyinaBostonclub，andcameouteverydaytodinewithLongfellowinCambridge，beginningwithhisreturnfromNahantinOctoberandcontinuingfarintoDecember。Thatwastheyearofthegreathorse—distemper，whentheplaguedisabledthetransportationinBoston，andcutoffallintercoursebetweenthesuburbandthecityonthestreetrailways。"Ididthink，"Longfellowpatheticallylamented，"thatwhenthehorse—carsstoppedrunning，I
　　shouldhavealittlerespitefromL。，buthewalksout。"
　　InthemidstofhisownsufferinghewaswillingtoadvisewithmeconcerningsomepoemsL。hadofferedtotheAtlanticMonthly，andafterwehaddesperatelyreadthemtogetherhesaid，withinspiration，"Ithinkthesethingsaremoreadaptedtomusicthanthemagazine，"andthisseemedsogoodanotionthatwhenL。cametoknowtheirfatefromme，Ianswered，confidently，"Ithinktheyarerathermoreadaptedtomusic。"
　　Hecalmlyasked，"Why？"andasthiswasanexigencywhichLongfellowhadnotforecastforme，Iwascaughtinitwithouthopeofescape。IreallydonotknowwhatIsaid，butIknowthatIdidnottakethepoems，suchwasmyliteraryconscienceinthosedays；IamafraidIshouldbeweakernow。
　　IV。
　　ThesuppersoftheDanteClubwerearelaxationfromtheseverityoftheirtoilsoncriticism，andIwillnotpretendthattheirtable—talkwasofthatseriousnesswhichdullerwitsmighthavegiventhemselvesupto。Thepassingstranger，especiallyifalightorjovialperson，wasalwayswelcome，andIneverknewoftheenforcementoftheruleIheardof，thatifyoucameinwithoutquestionontheClubnights，youwereaguest；butifyourangorknocked，youcouldnotgetin。
　　Anysortofdiversionwashailed，andonceAppletonproposedthatLongfellowshouldshowushiswine—cellar。Hetookupthecandleburningonthetableforthecigars，andledthewayintothebasementofthebeautifuloldColonialmansion，doublymemorableasWashington’sheadquarterswhilehewasinCambridge，andasthehomeofLongfellowforsomanyyears。Thetapercastjusttherightgleamsonthedarkness，bringingintoreliefthemassivepiersofbrick，andthesolidwallsofstone，whichgavethecellartheeffectofacasemateinsomefortress，andleavingthecornersanddistancestoaromanticgloom。Thisbasementwasaworkofthedayswhenmenbuiltmoreheavilyifnotmoresubstantiallythannow，butIforget，ifIeverknew，whatdatethewine—
　　cellarwasof。Itwaswellstoredwithpreciousvintages，aptlycobwebbedanddusty；butIcouldnotfindthatithadanymorecharmthantheshelvesofalibrary：itistheinsideofbottlesandofbooksthatmakesitsappeal。Thewholeplacewitnessedabygonestateandluxury，whichotherwiselingeredinadimlegendortwo。Longfellowoncespokeofcertainoldlove—letterswhichdroppeddownonthebasementstairsfromsomeplaceoverhead；andtherewasthefableorthefactofasubterraneanpassageunderthestreetfromCraigieHousetotheoldBatchelderHouse，whichIrelatetotheseletterswithnoauthorityIcanallege。ButinCraigieHousedwelttheproudfairladywhowasburiedintheCambridgechurch—yardwithaslaveatherheadandaslaveatherfeet。
　　"Dustisinherbeautifuleyes，"
　　andwhetheritwastheythatsmiledorweptintheirtimeoverthoselove—letters，Iwillleavethereadertosay。ThefortunesofherToryfamilyfellwiththoseoftheirparty，andthelastVassalendedhisdaysaprisonerfromhiscreditorsinhisownhouse，withaweeklyenlargementonSundays，whenthelawcouldnotreachhim。ItisknownhowtheplacetookLongfellow’sfancywhenhefirstcametobeprofessorinHarvard，andhowhewasalodgerofthelastMistressCraigiethere，longbeforehebecameitsowner。Thehouseissquare，withLongfellow’sstudywherehereadandwroteontherightofthedoor，andastatelierlibrarybehindit；ontheleftisthedrawing—room，withthedining—roominitsrear；fromitssquarehallclimbsabeautifulstairwaywithtwistedbanisters，andatallclockintheirangle。
　　ThestudywheretheDanteClubmet，andwhereImostlysawLongfellow，wasaplain，pleasantroom，withbroadpanellinginwhitepaintedpine；
　　inthecentrebeforethefireplacestoodhisroundtable，ladenwithbooks，papers，andproofs；inthefarthestcornerbythewindowwasahighdeskwhichhesometimesstoodattowrite。InthisroomWashingtonheldhiscouncilsandtransactedhisbusinesswithallcomers；inthechamberoverheadheslept。IdonotthinkLongfellowassociatedtheplacemuchwithhim，andIneverheardhimspeakofWashingtoninrelationtoitexceptonce，whenhetoldmewithpeculiarrelishwhathecalledthetrueversionofapiousstoryconcerningtheaide—de—campwhoblunderedinuponhimwhilehekneltinprayer。Thefatherofhiscountryroseandrebukedtheyoungmanseverely，andthenresumedhisdevotions。"Herebukedhim，"saidLongfellow，liftinghisbrowsandmakingringsroundthepupilsofhiseyes，"bythrowinghisscabbardathishead。"
　　AllthefrontwindowsofCraigieHouselook，outovertheopenfieldsacrosstheCharles，whichisnowtheLongfellowMemorialGarden。Thepoetusedtobeamusedwiththepopularsuperstitionthathewasholdingthisvacantgroundwithaviewtoariseinthepriceoflots，whileallhewantedwastokeepafeatureofhisbelovedlandscapeunchanged。
　　Loftyelmsdroopedatthecornersofthehouse；onthelawnbillowedclumpsofthelilac，whichformedathickhedgealongthefence。Therewasaterracepartwaydownthislawn，andwhenawhite—paintedbalustradewassetsomefifteenyearsagouponitsbrink，itseemedalwaystohavebeenthere。Longverandasstretchedoneithersideofthemansion；andbehindwasanold—fashionedgardenwithbedsprimlyedgedwithboxafteradesignofthepoet’sown。Longfellowhadaghoststoryofthisquaintplaisance，whichheusedtotellwithanartfulreserveofthecatastrophe。Hewascominghomeonewinternight，andashecrossedthegardenhewasstartledbyawhitefigureswayingbeforehim。Butheknewthattheonlywaywastoadvanceuponit。Hepushedboldlyforward，andwassuddenlycaughtunderthethroat—bytheclothes—linewithalongnight—gownonit。
　　PerhapsitwasattheendofalongnightoftheDanteClubthatIheardhimtellthisstory。Theeveningsweresometimesmorningsbeforethereluctantbreak—upcame，buttheywereneverhalflongenoughforme。
　　IhavegivennoideaofthehighreasoningofvitalthingswhichImustoftenhaveheardatthattable，andthatIhaveforgottenitisnoproofthatIdidnothearit。Thememorywillnotberuledastowhatitshallbindandwhatitshallloose，andIshouldentreatmineinvainforrecordofthosemeetingsotherthanwhatIhavegiven。Perhapsitwouldbewell，intheinterestofsomepopularconceptionsofwhatthesocialintercourseofgreatwitsmustbe，formetoinventsomeennoblingandelevatingpassagesofconversationatLongfellow’s；perhapsIoughttodoitforthesakeofmyownreputeasaseriousandadequatewitness。ButIamratherhelplessinthematter；ImustsetdownwhatIremember，andsurelyifIcanremembernophrasefromHolmesthatareadercouldliveordieby，itissomethingtorecallhow，whenacertainpotentcheesewaspassing，heleanedovertogazeatit，andasked："Doesitkick？
　　Doesitkick？"NostrainofhighpoeticthinkingremainstomefromLowell，buthemademelaughunforgettablywithhispassiveadventureonenightgoinghomelate，whenamansuddenlyleapedfromthetopofahighfenceuponthesidewalkathisfeet，andaftergivinghimtheworstfrightofhislife，disappearedpeaceablyintothedarkness。Tobesure，therewasonemostmemorablesupper，whenhereadthe"BigelowPaper"
　　hehadfinishedthatday，andenrichedthemeaningofhisversewiththebeautyofhisvoice。TherelingersyetinmysensehisverytoneingivingthelastlineofthepassagelamentingthewasteoftheheroicliveswhichinthosedarkhoursofJohnson’stimeseemedtohavebeen"Butcheredtomakeablindman’sholiday。"
　　Thehushthatfolloweduponhisceasingwasofthatfinestqualitywhichspokenpraisealwayslacks；andIsupposethatIcouldnotgiveajustnotionoftheseDanteClubeveningswithoutimpartingtheeffectofsuchsilences。ThisIcouldnothopefullyundertaketodo；butIamtemptedtosomeeffortofthekindbymyremembranceofLongfellow’soldfriendGeorgeWashingtonGreene，whooftencameupfromhishomeinRhodeIsland，tobeatthosesessions，andwhowasamostinterestingandamiablefactofthosedelicatesilences。AfullhalfofhisearlierlifehadbeenpassedinItaly，whereheandLongfellowmetandlovedeachotherintheiryouthwithanaffectionwhichthepoetwasconstanttoinhisage，aftermanyvicissitudes，withthebeautifulfidelityofhisnature。GreenewaslikeanoldItalianhouse—priestinmanner，gentle，suave，verysuave，smoothascreamycurds，cultivatedintheeleganciesofliterarytaste，andwithacertainmeekabeyance。IthinkIneverheardhimspeak，inallthoseevenings，exceptwhenLongfellowaddressedhim，thoughhemusthavehadtheDantescholarshipforanoccasionalcriticism。Itwasatmorerecentdinners，whereImethimwiththeLongfellowfamilyalone，thathebrokenowandthenintoaquotationfromsomeofthemodernItalianpoetsheknewbyheart（preferablyGiusti），andsyllabledtheirversewithanexquisiteRomanaccentandabewitchingFlorentinerhythm。NowandthenatthesetimeshebroughtoutafadedItaliananecdote，faintlysmellingofcivet，andthreadbareinitsancienttexture。HelikedtospeakofGoldoniandofNota，ofNiccoliniandManzoni，ofMontiandLeopardi；andifyoucametoAmerica，oftheRevolutionandhisgrandfather，theQuakerGeneralNathanielGreene，whoselifehewrote（andIread）inthreevolumes：HeworshippedLongfellow，andtheirfriendshipcontinuedwhiletheylived，buttowardsthelastofhisvisitsatCraigieHouseithadapathosforthewitnesswhichIshouldgrievetowrong。Greenewasthenaquiveringparalytic，andheclungtremulouslytoLongfellow’sarmingoingouttodinner，whereeventhemodernItalianpoetsweresilentuponhislips。Whenwerosefromtable，Longfellowliftedhimoutofhischair，andtookhimuponhisarmagainfortheirreturntothestudy。
　　HewasoflightermetalthanmostothermembersoftheDanteClub，andhewasnotoftheirimmediateintimacy，livingawayfromCambridge，ashedid，andIsharedhissilenceintheirpresencewithfullsympathy。
　　Iwasbyfartheyoungestoftheirnumber，andIcannotyetquitemakeoutwhyIwasofitatall。ButateverymomentIwasassensibleofmygoodfortuneasofmyilldesert。TheywerethemenwhomofallmenlivingImosthonored，anditseemedtobeimpossiblethatIatmyageshouldbesoperfectlyfulfillingthedreamofmylifeintheircompany。