Hewascharminglykind；heenteredwiththesweetestinterestintothestoryofmyeconomiclife，whichhadbeenfullofchangesandchancesalready。ButwhenIsaidveryseriouslythatnowIwastiredofthesefortuities，andwouldliketobesettledinsomething，heasked，withdancingeyes，"Why，howoldareyou？"
　　"Iamtwenty—three，"Ianswered，andthenthelaughingfittookhimagain。
　　"Well，"hesaid，"youbeginyoung，outthere!"
　　InmyheartIdidnotthinkthattwenty—threewassoveryyoung，butperhapsitwas；andifanyoneweretosaythatIhadbeenportrayinghereayouthwhoseaimswerecertainlybeyondhisachievements，whowasmorbidlysensitive，andifnotconceitedwasintolerablyconscious，whohadmetwithincrediblekindness，andhadsufferednomorethanwasgoodforhim，thoughhemightnothavemeritedhispainanymorethanhisjoy，IdonotknowthatIshouldgainsayhim，forIamnotatallsurethatI
　　wasnotjustthatkindofyouthwhenIpaidmyfirstvisittoNewEngland。
　　LITERARYFRIENDSANDACQUAINTANCES——FirstImpressionsofLiteraryNewYorkbyWilliamDeanHowellsFIRSTIMPRESSIONSOFLITERARYNEWYORK
　　ItwasbyboatthatIarrivedfromBoston，onanAugustmorningof1860，whichwasprobablyofthesamequalityasanAugustmorningof1900。
　　Iusednottomindtheweathermuchinthosedays；itwashotoritwascold，itwaswetoritwasdry，butitwasnotmyaffair；andIsupposethatIswelteredaboutthestrangecity，withnosenseofanythingverypersonalinthetemperature，untilnightfall。WhatIrememberisbeinghighupinahotellongsincelaidlow，listeninginthesummerdark，afterthelongdaywasdone，totheNiagararoaroftheomnibuseswhosetidethensweptBroadwayfromcurbtocurb，forallthemilesofitslength。Atthathourtheothercitynoiseswerestilled，orlostinthisvastervolumeofsound，whichseemedtofillthewholenight。IthadasolemnitywhichthemoderncomertoNewYorkwillhardlyimagine，forthattideofomnibuseshaslongsinceebbedaway，andhaslefttheairtothestridentdiscordsoftheelevatedtrainsandtheirregularalarumofthegrip—cargongs，whichblendtonosuchharmoniousthunderasrosefromtheprocessionofthoseponderousandinnumerablevans。Therewasasortofinnerquietinthesound，andwhenIchoseIsleptofftoit，andwoketoitinthemorningrefreshedandstrengthenedtoexploretheliterarysituationinthemetropolis。
　　I。
　　NotthatIthinkIleftthistothesecondday。VeryprobablyIlostnotimeingoingtotheofficeoftheSaturdayPress，assoonasIhadmybreakfastafterarriving，andIhaveadimimpressionofanticipatingtheearliestoftheBohemians，whosegaytheoryoflifeobligedthemtoagoodmanyhardshipsinlyingdownearlyinthemorning，andrisinguplateintheday。Ifitwastheoffice—boywhoboremecompanyduringthefirsthourofmyvisit，by—and—bytheeditorsandcontributorsactuallybegantocomein。IwouldnotbeveryspecificaboutthemifIcould，forsincethatBohemiahasfadedfromthemapoftherepublicofletters，ithasgrownmoreandmoredifficulttotraceitscitizenshiptoanycertainwriter。TherearesomelivingwhoknewtheBohemiansandevenlovedthem，butthereareincreasinglyfewwhowereofthem，eveninthefondretrospectofyouthfulfolliesanderrors。Itwasinfactbutasicklycolony，transplantedfromthemotherasphaltofParis，andneverreallystrikingrootinthepavementsofNewYork；itwasacolonyofideas，oftheories，whichhadperhapsneverhadanydeeprootanywhere。
　　Whattheseideas，thesetheories，wereinartandinlife，itwouldnotbeveryeasytosay；butintheSaturdayPresstheycametoviolentexpression，nottosayexplosion，againstallexistingformsofrespectability。Ifrespectabilitywasyour’betenoire’，thenyouwereaBohemian；andifyouwereinthehabitofrenderingyourselfinprose，thenyounecessarilyshreddedyourproseintoveryfineparagraphsofasentenceeach，orofaveryfewwords，orevenofoneword。Ibelievethisfashionprevailedtillverylatelywithsomeofthedramaticcritics，whothoughtthatitgaveaqualityofepigramtothestyle；andIsupposeitwasborrowedfromthemorespasmodicmomentsofVictorHugobytheeditorofthePress。HebroughtitbackwithhimwhenhecamehomefromoneofthosesojournsinPariswhichpossessoneoftheFrenchaccentratherthantheFrenchlanguage；Ilongdesiredtowriteinthatfashionmyself，butIhadnotthecourage。
　　Thiseditorwasamanofsuchopenandavowedcynicismthathemayhavebeen，forallIknow，akindlyoptimistatheart；somesay，however，thathehadreallytalkedhimselfintobeingwhatheseemed。Ionlyknowthathistalk，thefirstdayIsawhim，wasofsuchasortthatifhewashalfasbad，hewouldhavebeentoobadtobe。Hewalkedupanddownhisroomsayingwhatluridthingshewoulddirectlydoifanyoneaccusedhimofrespectability，sothathemightdisabusethemindsofallwitnesses。
　　Therewerefourorfiveofhisassistantsandcontributorslisteningtothedreadfulthreats，whichdidnotdeceiveevensogreatinnocenceasmine，butIdonotknowwhethertheyfounditthesorryfarcethatIdid。
　　TheyprobablyfeltthefascinationforhimwhichIcouldnotdisown，inspiteofmyinnerdisgust；andwerewatchfulatthesametimefortheeffectofhiswordswithonewhowasconfessedlyfreshfromBoston，andwasfullofdelightinthepeoplehehadseenthere。Itappeared，withhim，tobeproofoftheinferiorityofBostonthatifyoupasseddownWashingtonStreet，halfadozenmeninthecrowdwouldknowyouwereHolmes，orLowell，orLongfellow，orWendellPhillips；butinBroadwaynoonewouldknowwhoyouwere，orcaretothemeasureofhissmallestblasphemy。IhavesinceheardthismorethanonceurgedasasignaladvantageofNewYorkfortheaestheticinhabitant，butIamnotsure，yet，thatitisso。Theunrecognizedcelebrityprobablyhashismindquiteasmuchuponhimselfasifsomeonepointedhimout，andotherwiseIcannotthinkthatthesenseofneighborhoodissuchabadthingfortheartistinanysort。Itinvolvesthesenseofresponsibility，whichcannotbetooconstantortookeen。Ifitnarrows，itdeepens；andthismaybethesecretofBoston。
　　II。
　　ItwouldnotbeeasytosayjustwhytheBohemiangrouprepresentedNewYorkliteraturetomyimagination；forIcertainlyassociatedothernameswithitsbestwork，butperhapsitwasbecauseIhadwrittenfortheSaturdayPressmyself，andhadmyprideinit，andperhapsitwasbecausethatpaperreallyembodiedthenewliterarylifeofthecity。Itwasclever，andfullofthewitthattriesitsteethuponeverything。Itattackedallliteraryshamsbutitsown，anditmadeitselffeltandfeared。Theyoungwritersthroughoutthecountrywereambitioustobeseeninit，andtheygavetheirbesttoit；theygaveliterally，fortheSaturdayPressneverpaidinanythingbuthopesofpaying，vaguereventhanpromises。ItisnottoomuchtosaythatitwasverynearlyaswellforonetobeacceptedbythePressastobeacceptedbytheAtlantic，andforthetimetherewasnootherliterarycomparison。TobeinitwastobeinthecompanyofFitzJamesO’Brien，FitzhughLudlow，Mr。Aldrich，Mr。Stedman，andwhoeverelsewasliveliestinproseorloveliestinverseatthatdayinNewYork。Itwasapower，andalthoughitistruethat，asHenryGilessaidofit，"Mancannotlivebysnapping—turtlealone，"thePresswasverygoodsnapping—turtle。Or，itseemedsothen；
　　Ishouldbealmostafraidtotestitnow，forIdonotlikesnapping—
　　turtlesomuchasIoncedid，andIhavegrownnicerinmytaste，andwantmysnapping—turtleoftheverybest。WhatiscertainisthatIwenttotheofficeoftheSaturdayPressinNewYorkwithmuchthesamesortoffeelingIhadingoingtotheofficeoftheAtlanticMonthlyinBoston，butIcameawaywithaverydifferentfeeling。IhadfoundthereabitternessagainstBostonasgreatasthebitternessagainstrespectability，andasBostonwasthenrapidlybecomingmysecondcountry，IcouldnotjoininthescornthoughtofherandsaidofherbytheBohemians。Ifanciedaconspiracyamongthemtoshocktheliterarypilgrim，andtominifythepreciousemotionshehadexperiencedinvisitingothershrines；butIfoundnoharminthat，forIknewjusthowmuchtobeshocked，andIthoughtIknewbetterhowtovaluecertainthingsofthesoulthanthey。YetwhentheirchiefaskedmehowIgotonwithHawthorne，andIbegantosaythathewasveryshyandIwasrathershy，andthekingofBohemiatookhispipeouttobreakinuponmewith"Oh，acoupleofshysters!"andtherestlaughed，Iwasabashedalltheycouldhavewished，andwasnotrestoredtomyselftilloneofthemsaidthatthethoughtofBostonmadehimasuglyassin；thenIbegantohopeagainthatmenwhotookthemselvessoseriouslyasthatneednotbetakenveryseriouslybyme。
　　InfactIhadheardthingsalmostasdesperatelycynicalinothernewspaperofficesbeforethat，andIcouldnotseewhatwassodistinctivelyBohemianinthese’animeprave’，thesesoulssobalefulbytheirownshowing。ButapparentlyBohemiawasnotastatethatyoucouldwellimaginefromoneencounter，andsincemystayinNewYorkwastobeveryshort，Ilostnotimeinacquaintingmyselffurtherwithit。ThatverynightIwenttothebeer—cellar，onceveryfarupBroadway，whereI
　　wasgiventoknowthattheBohemiannightsweresmokedandquaffedaway。
　　Itwassaid，sofarWestasOhio，thatthequeenofBohemiasometimescametoPfaff’s：ayounggirlofasprightlygiftinletters，whosenameorpseudonymhadmadeitselfprettywellknownatthatday，andwhosefate，patheticatalltimes，out—tragediesalmostanyotherinthehistoryofletters。Shewasseizedwithhydrophobiafromthebiteofherdog，onarailroadtrain；andmadealongjourneyhomeintheparoxysmsofthatagonizingdisease，whichendedinherdeathaftershereachedNewYork。Butthiswasafterherreignhadended，andnosuchblackshadowwascastforwarduponPfaff’s，whosenameoftenfiguredintheverseandtheepigrammaticallyparagraphedproseofthe’SaturdayPress’。IfeltthatasacontributorandatleastabrevetBohemianIoughtnottogohomewithoutvisitingthefamousplace，andwitnessingifIcouldnotsharetherevelsofmycomrades。AsIneitherdrankbeernorsmoked，mypartinthecarousalwaslimitedtoaGermanpancake，whichIfoundtheyhadverygoodatPfaff’s，andtolisteningtothewhirlingwordsofmycommensals，atthelongboardspreadfortheBohemiansinacavernousspaceunderthepavement。Therewerewritersforthe’SaturdayPress’andforVanityFair（ahopefullycomicpaperofthatday），andsomeoftheartistswhodrewfortheillustratedperiodicals。Nothingoftheirtalkremainswithme，buttheimpressionremainsthatitwasnotsogoodtalkasIhadheardinBoston。Atonemomentoftheorgy，whichwentbutslowlyforanorgy，wewerejoinedbysomebelatedBohemianswhomtheothersmadeagreatclamorover；Iwasgiventounderstandtheywerejustrecoveredfromafearfuldebauch；theirlockswerestilldampfromthewettowelsusedtorestorethem，andtheireyeswereveryfrenzied。
　　Iwaspresentedtothesetypes，whoneithersaidnordidanythingworthyoftheirawfulappearance，butdroppedintoseatsatthetable，andateofthesupperwithanappetitethatseemedpoor。Istayedhopingvainlyforworsethingstilleleveno’clock，andthenIroseandtookmyleaveofaliteraryconditionthathaddistinctlydisappointedme。IdonotsaythatitmaynothavebeenwickederandwittierthanIfoundit；
　　IonlyreportwhatIsawandheardinBohemiaonmyfirstvisittoNewYork，andIknowthatmyacquaintancewithitwasnotexhaustive。WhenI
　　camethenextyeartheSaturdayPresswasnomore，andtheeditorandhiscontributorshadnolongeracommoncentre。ThebestoftheyoungfellowswhomImetthereconfessed，inapleasantexchangeofletterswhichwehadafterwards，thathethoughttheposeavainandunprofitableone；andwhenthePresswasrevived，afterthewar，itwaswithoutanyoftheoldBohemiancharacteristicsexceptthatofnotpayingformaterial。
　　Itcouldnotlastlongupontheseterms，andagainitpassedaway，andstillwaitsitssecondpalingenesis。
　　Theeditorpassedawaytoo，notlongafter，andthethingthathehadinspiredaltogetherceasedtobe。Hewasamanofacertainsardonicpower，anduseditratherfiercelyandfreely，withajoyprobablymoreapparentthanrealinthepainitgave。InmylastknowledgeofhimhewasmuchmilderthanwhenIfirstknewhim，andIhavethefeelingthathetoocametoownbeforehediedthatmancannotlivebysnapping—turtlealone。Hewaskindtosomeneglectedtalents，andbefriendedthemwithavigorandazealwhichhewouldhavebeenthelasttoletyoucallgenerous。ThechiefofthesewasWaltWhitman，who，whentheSaturdayPresstookitup，hadashopelessacausewiththecriticsoneithersideoftheoceanasanymancouldhave。ItwasnottilllongafterwardsthathisEnglishadmirersbegantodiscoverhim，andtomakehiscountrymensomenoisyreproachesforignoringhim；theywerewhollyinthedarkconcerninghimwhentheSaturdayPress，whichfirststoodhisfriend，andtheyoungmenwhomthePressgatheredaboutit，madehimtheircult。
　　Nodoubthewasmorevaluedbecausehewassooffensiveinsomewaysthanhewouldhavebeenifhehadbeeninnowayoffensive，butitremainsafactthattheycelebratedhimquiteasmuchaswasgoodforthem。HewasoftenatPfaff’swiththem，andthenightofmyvisithewasthechieffactofmyexperience。IdidnotknowhewastheretillIwasonmywayout，forhedidnotsitatthetableunderthepavement，butattheheadofonefartherintotheroom。There，asIpassed，somefriendlyfellowstoppedmeandnamedmetohim，andIrememberhowheleanedbackinhischair，andreachedouthisgreathandtome，asifheweregoingtogiveitmeforgoodandall。Hehadafinehead，withacloudofJovianhairuponit，andabranchingbeardandmustache，andgentleeyesthatlookedmostkindlyintomine，andseemedtowishthelikingwhichIinstantlygavehim，thoughwehardlypassedaword，andouracquaintancewassummedupinthatglanceandthegraspofhismightyfistuponmyhand。IdoubtifhehadanynotionwhoorwhatIwasbeyondthefactthatIwasayoungpoetofsomesort，buthemaypossiblyhaverememberedseeingmynameprintedaftersomeveryHeinesqueversesinthePress。Ididnotmeethimagainfortwentyyears，andthenIhadonlyamomentwithhimwhenhewasreadingtheproofsofhispoemsinBoston。SomeyearslaterIsawhimforthelasttime，onedayafterhislectureonLincoln，inthatcity，whenhecamedownfromtheplatformtospeakwithsomehandshakingfriendswhogatheredabouthim。Thenandalwayshegavemethesenseofasweetandtruesoul，andIfeltinhimaspiritualdignitywhichIwillnottrytoreconcilewithhisprintingintheforefrontofhisbookapassagefromaprivateletterofEmerson’s，thoughIbelievehewouldnothaveseensuchathingasmostothermenwould，orthoughtillofitinanother。ThespiritualpuritywhichIfeltinhimnolessthanthedignityissomethingthatIwillnomoretrytoreconcilewithwhatdeniesitinhispage；butsuchthingswemaywellleavetotheadjustmentoffinerbalancesthanwehaveathand。Iwillmakesureonlyofthegreatestbenignityinthepresenceoftheman。Theapostleoftherough，theuncouth，wasthegentlestperson；hisbarbaricyawp，translatedintothetermsofsocialencounter，wasanaddressofsingularquiet，deliveredinavoiceofwinningandendearingfriendliness。
　　Astohisworkitself，IsupposethatIdonotthinkitsovaluableineffectasinintention。Hewasaliberatingforce，avery"imperialanarch"inliterature；butlibertyisneveranythingbutameans，andwhatWhitmanachievedwasameansandnotanend，inwhatmustbecalledhisverse。Ilikehisprose，ifthereisadifference，muchbetter；
　　thereheisofagenialandcomfortingquality，veryrichandcordial，suchasIfelthimtobewhenImethiminperson。Hisverseseemstomenotpoetry，butthematerialsofpoetry，likeone’semotions；yetIwouldnotmisprizeit，andIamgladtoownthatIhavehadmomentsofgreatpleasureinit。SomeFrenchcriticquotedintheSaturdayPress（I
　　cannotthinkofhisname）saidthebestthingofhimwhenhesaidthathemadeyouapartneroftheenterprise，forthatispreciselywhathedoes，andthatiswhatalienatesandwhatendearsinhim，asyoulikeordislikethepartnership。Itisstillsomethingneighborly，brotherly，fatherly，andsoIfelthimtobewhenthebenignoldmanlookedonmeandspoketome。
　　III。
　　ThatnightatPfaff’smusthavebeenthelastoftheBohemiansforme，anditwasthelastofNewYorkauthorshiptoo，forthetime。IdonotknowwhyIshouldnothaveimaginedtryingtoseeCurtis，whomIknewsomuchbyheart，andwhomIadored，butImaynothavehadthecourage，orImayhaveheardthathewasoutoftown；Bryant，Ibelieve，wasthenoutofthecountry；butatanyrateIdidnotattempthimeither。TheBohemianswerethebeginningandtheendofthestoryforme，andtotellthetruthIdidnotlikethestory……IrememberthatasIsatatthattable。underthepavement，inPfaff’sbeer—cellar，andlistenedtothewitthatdidnotseemveryfunny，IthoughtofthedinnerwithLowell，thebreakfastwithFields，thesupperattheAutocrat’s，andfeltthatI
　　hadfallenveryfar。Infactitcandonoharmatthisdistanceoftimetoconfessthatitseemedtomethen，andforagoodwhileafterwards，thatapersonwhohadseenthemenandhadthethingssaidbeforehimthatIhadinBoston，couldnotkeephimselftoocarefullyincotton；andthiswaswhatIdidallthefollowingwinter，thoughofcourseitwasasecretbetweenmeandme。IdaresayitwasnottheworstthingIcouldhavedone，insomerespects。
　　MysojourninNewYorkcouldnothavebeenverylong，andtherestofitwasmainlygiventoviewingthemonumentsofthecityfromthewindowsofomnibusesandtheplatformsofhorse—cars。Theworldwassosimplethenthattherewereperhapsonlyahalf—dozencitiesthathadhorse—carsinthem，andItravelledinthoseconveyancesatNewYorkwithanunfadedzest，evenaftermyjourneysbackandforthbetweenBostonandCambridge。
　　IhavenottheleastnotionwhereIwentorwhatIsaw，butIsupposethatitwasupanddowntheuglyeastandwestavenues，thenlyingopentotheeyeinallthehideousnessnowpartlyconcealedbytheelevatedroads，andthatIfoundthemverystatelyandhandsome。Indeed，NewYorkwasreallyhandsomerthenthanitisnow，whenithassomanymorepiecesofbeautifularchitecture，foratthatdaytheskyscraperswerenotyet，andtherewasafineregularityinthestreetsthatthesebrutebulkshaverobbedofallshapeliness。Dirtandsqualortherewereaplenty，buttherewasinfinitelymorecomfort。Thelongsuccessionofcrossstreetswasyetmostlysecurefrombusiness，afteryoupassedClintonPlace；commercewasjustbeginningtoshowitselfinUnionSquare，andMadisonSquarewasstillthehomeoftheMcFlimsies，whosekinandkinddweltunmolestedinthebrownstonestretchesofFifthAvenue。ItriedhardtoimaginethemfromtheacquaintanceMr。Butler’spoemhadgivenme，andfromtheknowledgethegentlesatireofThe’PotipharPapers’hadspreadbroadcastthroughacommunityshockedbytheexcessesofourbestsociety；itwasnothalfsobadthenasthebestnow，probably。ButIdonotthinkImadeverymuchofit，perhapsbecausemostofthepeoplewhooughttohavebeeninthosefinemansionswereawayattheseasideandthemountains。
　　ThemountainsIhadseenonmywaydownfromCanada，butthesea—sidenot，anditwouldneverdotogohomewithoutvisitingsomefamoussummerresort。ImusthavefixeduponLongBranchbecauseImusthaveheardofitasthenthemostfashionable；andoneafternoonItooktheboatforthatplace。BythismeansInotonlysawsea—bathingforthefirsttime，butIsawastormatsea：asquallstruckussosuddenlythatitblewawayallthecamp—stoolsoftheforwardpromenade；itwasveryexciting，andIlongmeanttouseinliteraturetheblackwallofcloudthatsettledonthewaterbeforeuslikeasortofportablemidnight；Inowthrowitawayuponthereader，asitwere；itneverwouldcomeinanywhere。IstayedallnightatLongBranch，andIhadabaththenextmorningbeforebreakfast：anextremelycoldone，withalife—linetokeepmeagainsttheundertow。InthisriteIhadthecompanyofayoungNew—
　　Yorker，whomIhadmetontheboatcomingdown，andwhowasofthelight，hopeful，adventurousbusinesstypewhichseemspeculiartothecity，andwhichhasalwaysattractedme。Hetoldmemuchabouthislife，andhowhelived，andwhatitcosthimtolive。Hehadalargeroomatafashionableboardinghouse，andhepaidfourteendollarsaweek。
　　InColumbusIhadsucharoomatsuchahouse，andpaidthreeandahalf，andIthoughtitagooddeal。Butthosewerethedaysbeforethewar，whenAmericawasthecheapestcountryintheworld，andtheWestwasincrediblyinexpensive。
　　Afteradayoflonelysplendoratthissceneoffashionandgaiety，IwentbacktoNewYork，andtooktheboatforAlbanyonmywayhome。
　　InotedthatIhadnolongerthevividinterestinnatureandhumannaturewhichIhadfeltinsettingoutuponmytravels，andIsaidtomyselfthatthiswasfromhavingamindsocrowdedwithexperiencesandimpressionsthatitcouldreceivenomore；andIreallysupposethatifthehappiestphrasehadoffereditselftomeatsomemoments，Ishouldscarcelyhavelookedaboutmeforalandscapeorafiguretofititto。
　　IwasverygladtogetbacktomydearlittlecityintheWest（IfounditseethinginanAugustsunthatwashotenoughtohavecalcinedthelimestoneStateHouse），andtoallthefriendsIwassofondof。
　　IV。
　　IdidwhatIcouldtoprovemyselfunworthyofthembyrefusingtheirinvitations，andgivingmyselfwhollytoliterature，duringtheearlypartofthewinterthatfollowed；andIdidnotrealizemyerrortilltheinvitationsceasedtocome，andIfoundmyselfinanunbrokenintellectualsolitude。TheworstofitwasthatanungratefulMusedidlittleinreturnforthesacrificesImadeher，andthethingsInowwrotewerenotlikedbytheeditorsIsentthemto。Theeditorialtasteisnotalwaysthetestofmerit，butitistheonlyonewehave，andIamnotsayingtheeditorswerewronginmycase。Therewerethensuchaveryfewplaceswhereyoucouldmarketyourwork：theAtlanticinBostonandHarper’sinNewYorkwerethemagazinesthatpaid，thoughtheIndependentnewspaperboughtliterarymaterial；theSaturdayPressprinteditwithoutbuying，andsodidtheoldKnickerbockerMagazine，thoughtherewaspecuniarygood—willinboththesecases。ItoiledmuchthatwinteroverastoryIhadlongbeenwriting，andatlastsentittotheAtlantic，whichhadpublishedfivepoemsformetheyearbefore。
　　Aftersomeweeks，oritmayhavebeenmonths，IgotitbackwithanotesayingthattheeditorshadthelessregretinreturningitbecausetheysawthatintheMaynumberoftheKnickerbockerthefirstchapterofthestoryhadappeared。ThenIrememberedthat，yearsbefore，Ihadsentthischaptertothatmagazine，asasketchtobeprintedbyitself，andafterwardshadcontinuedthestoryfromit。Ihadneverheardofitsacceptance，andsupposedofcoursethatitwasrejected；butonmysecondvisittoNewYorkIcalledattheKnickerbockeroffice，andaneweditor，ofthosethatthemagazinewasalwayshavinginthedaysofitsfailingfortunes，toldmethathehadfoundmysketchinrummagingaboutinabarrelofhispredecessorsmanuscripts，andhadlikedit，andprintedit。Hesaidthattherewerefifteendollarscomingtomeforthatsketch，andmighthesendthemoneytome？Isaidthathemight，thoughIdonotsee，tothisday，whyhedidnotgiveitmeonthespot；andhemadeaverysmallminuteinaverylargesheetofpaper（reallylikeDickSwiveller），andpromisedIshouldhaveitthatnight；butIsailedthenextdayforLiverpoolwithoutit。IsailedwithoutthemoneyforsomeversesthatVanityFairboughtofme，butIhardlyexpectedthat，fortheeditor，whowasthenArtemusWard，hadfranklytoldmeintakingmyaddressthatducatswerefewatthatmomentwithVanityFair。
　　IwasthenonmywaytobeconsulatVenice，whereIspentthenextfouryearsinavigilanceforConfederateprivateerswhichnoneofthemeversurprised。IhadaskedfortheconsulateatMunich，whereIhopedtosteepmyselfyetlongerinGermanpoetry，butwhenmyappointmentcame，IfounditwasforRome。IwasverygladtogetRomeeven；buttheincomeoftheofficewasinfees，andIthoughtIhadbettergoontoWashingtonandfindouthowmuchthefeesamountedto。PeopleinColumbuswhohadbeenabroadsaidthatonfivehundreddollarsyoucouldliveinRomelikeaprince，butIdoubtedthis；andwhenIlearnedattheStateDepartmentthatthefeesoftheRomanconsulatecametoonlythreehundred，IperceivedthatIcouldnotlivebetterthanabaron，probably，andIdespaired。ThekindlychiefoftheconsularbureausaidthatthePresident’ssecretaries，Mr。JohnNicolayandMr。JohnHay，wereinterestedinmyappointment，andheadvisedmygoingovertotheWhiteHouseandseeingthem。Ilostnotimeindoingthat，andIlearnedthatasyoungWesternmentheywereinterestedinmebecauseIwasayoungWesternmanwhohaddonesomethinginliterature，andtheywerewillingtohelpmeforthatreason，andfornootherthatIeverknew。TheyproposedmygoingtoVenice；thesalarywasthensevenhundredandfifty，buttheythoughttheycouldgetitputuptoathousand。Intheendtheygotitputuptofifteenhundred，andsoIwenttoVenice，whereifIdidnotlivelikeaprinceonthatincome，IlivedagooddealmorelikeaprincethanIcouldhavedoneatRomeonafifthofit。
　　Iftheappointmentwasnotpresentfortune，itwasthebeginningofthebestluckIhavehadintheworld，andIamgladtooweitalltothosefriendsofmyverse，whocouldhavebeennootherwisefriendsofme。
　　Theywerethenbeginningveryearlycareersofdistinctionwhichhavenotbeenwhollydivided。Mr。Nicolaycouldhavebeenabouttwenty—five，andMr。Haynineteenortwenty。Noonedreamedasyetoftheopportunityopeningtotheminbeingsoconstantlynearthemanwhoselifetheyhavewritten，andwithwhosefametheyhaveimperishablyinterwroughttheirnames。Irememberthesobereddignityoftheone，andthehumorousgaietyoftheother，andhowwehadsomeyoungmen’sjokingandlaughingtogether，intheanteroomwheretheyreceivedme，withthegreatsoulenteringuponitstravailbeyondthecloseddoor。TheyaskedmeifIhadeverseenthePresident，andIsaidthatIhadseenhimatColumbus，theyearbefore；butIcouldnotsayhowmuchIshouldliketoseehimagain，andthankhimforthefavorwhichIhadnoclaimtoathishands，exceptsuchastheslightcampaignbiographyIhadwrittencouldbethoughttohavegivenme。Thatdayoranother，asIleftmyfriends，Imethiminthecorridorwithout，andhelookedatthespaceIwaspartofwithhisineffablymelancholyeyes，withoutknowingthatIwastheindistinguishablepersoninwhose"integrityandabilitieshehadreposedsuchspecialconfidence"astohaveappointedhimconsulforVeniceandtheportsoftheLombardo—VenetianKingdom，thoughhemighthaverecognizedthetermsofmycommissionifIhadremindedhimofthem。
　　Ifalteredamomentinmylongingtoaddresshim，andthenIdecidedthateveryonewhoforeboretospeakneedlesslytohim，ortoshakehishand，didhimakindness；andIwishIcouldbeassureofthewisdomofallmypastbehaviorasIamofthatpieceofit。Hewalkeduptothewatercoolerthatstoodinthecorner，anddrewhimselfafullgobletfromit，whichhepoureddownhisthroatwithabackwardtiltofhishead，andthenwentwearilywithindoors。Thewholeaffair，sosimple，hasalwaysremainedoneofacertainpathosinmymemory，andIwouldratherhaveseenLincolninthatunconsciousmomentthanonsomestatelieroccasion。
　　V。
　　IwenthometoOhio；andsentonthebondIwastofileintheTreasuryDepartment；butitwasmislaidthere，andtopreventanotherchanceofthatkindIcarriedontheduplicatemyself。ItwasonmysecondvisitthatImetthegenerousyoungIrishmanWilliamD。O’Connor，atthehouseofmyfriendPiatt，andheardhisardenttalk。Hewasoneofthepromisingmenofthatday，andhehadwrittenananti—slaverynovelintheheroicmoodofVictorHugo，whichgreatlytookmyfancy；andI
　　believehewrotepoemstoo。HehadnotyetrisentobethechiefofWaltWhitman’schampionsoutsideoftheSaturdayPress，buthehadalreadyespousedthetheoryofBacon’sauthorshipofShakespeare，thennewlyexploitedbythepoorladyofBacon’sname，whodiedconstanttoitinaninsaneasylum。Heusedtospeakofthereputeddramatistas"thefatpeasantofStratford，"andhewasotherwisepicturesqueofspeechinameasurethatconsoled，ifitdidnotconvince。Thegreatwarwasthenfulluponus，andwheninthesilencesofourliterarytalkitsawfulbreathwasheard，anditsshadowfelluponthehearthwherewegatheredroundthefirstfiresofautumn，O’Connorwouldlifthisbeautifulheadwithafineeffectofprophecy，andsay，"Friends，Ifeelasenseofvictoryintheair。"Hewasnotwrong；onlythevictorywasfortheotheraide。
　　WhobesideO’ConnorsharedinthesesaddenedsymposiumsIcannottellnow；butprobablyotheryoungjournalistsandoffice—holders，intendinglitterateurs，sincemoreorlessextinct。ImakecertainonlyoftheyoungBostonpublisherwhoissuedaveryhandsomeeditionof’LeavesofGrass’，andthenfailedpromptlyifnotconsequently。ButIhadalreadymet，inmyfirstsojournatthecapital，ayoungjournalistwhohadgivenhostagestopoetry，andwhomIwasverygladtoseeandproudtoknow。
　　Mr。StedmanandIweretalkingoverthatmeetingtheotherday，andIcanbesurerthanImighthavebeenwithouthismemory，thatIfoundhimatafriend’shouse，wherehewasnursinghimselfforsomeslightsickness，andthatIsatbyhisbedwhileoursoulslaunchedtogetherintothejoyfulrealmsofhopeandpraise。InhimIfoundthequalityofBoston，thehonorandpassionofliterature，andnotamereposeoftheliterarylife；andtheworldknowswithoutmytellinghowtruehehasbeentohisidealofit。HisearthlymissionthenwastowritelettersfromWashingtonfortheNewYorkWorld，whichstartedinlifeasagoodyoungeveningpaper，withadecidedreligioustone，sothattheSaturdayPresscouldcallittheNight—bloomingSerious。IthinkMr。Stedmanwroteforitseditorialpageattimes，andhisrelationtoitasaWashingtoncorrespondenthadanauthoritywhichiswantingtothefunctioninthesedaysofperfectedtelegraphing。HehadnotyetachievedthatseatintheStockExchangewhosepossessionhasjustifiedhisrecoursetobusiness，andhashelpedhimtomeansomethingmoresingleinliteraturethanmanymoresinglydevotedtoit。Iusedsometimestospeakaboutthatwithanothereageryoungauthorincertainmiddleyearswhenwewerechafingineditorialharness，andwealwaysdecidedthatStedmanhadthebestofitinbeingabletoearnhislivinginasortsoalientoliteraturethathecouldcometoitunjaded，andwithagustunspoiledbykindredsavors。
　　Butnomanshapeshisownlife，andIdaresaythatStedmanmayhavebeenallthetimeenvyingusourtripodsfromhishighplaceintheStockExchange。WhatiscertainisthathehascometostandforliteratureandtoembodyNewYorkinitasnooneelsedoes。Inacommunitywhichseemsnevertohavehadaconsciousrelationtoletters，hehaskeptthefaithwithdignityandfoughtthefightwithconstantcourage。Scholarandpoetatonce，hehasspokentohisgenerationwithauthoritywhichwecanforgetonlyinthecharmwhichmakesusforgeteverythingelse。
　　Buthisfamewasstillbeforehimwhenwemet，andIcouldbringtohimanadmirationforworkwhichhadnotyetmadeitselfknowntosomany；
　　butanyadmirerwaswelcome。Wetalkedofwhatwehaddone，andeachsaidhowmuchhelikedcertainthingoftheother’s；IevenseizedmyadvantageofhishelplessnesstoreadhimapoemofminewhichIhadinmypocket；headvisedmewheretoplaceit；andifthereaderwillnotthinkitanunfairdigression，Iwilltellherewhatbecameofthatpoem，forIthinkitsvariedfortuneswereamusing，andIhopemyownsufferingsandfinaltriumphwithitwillnotbewithoutencouragementtotheyoungliteraryendeavorer。Itwasapoemcalled，withnopropheticsenseoffitness，"Forlorn，"andItrieditfirstwiththe’AtlanticMonthly’，whichwouldnothaveit。ThenIoffereditinpersontoaformereditorof’Harper’sMonthly’，buthecouldnotseehisadvantageinit，andIcarrieditoverseastoVenicewithme。FromthatpointI
　　sentittoalltheEnglishmagazinesassteadilyasthepostcouldcarryitawayandbringitback。Onmywayhome，fouryearslater，ItookittoLondonwithme，whereafriendwhoknewLewes，thenjustbeginningwiththe’FortnightlyReview’，sentittohimforme。Itwaspromptlyreturned，withaletterwhollyreservedastoitsquality，butfullofapoeticgratitudeformywishtocontributetotheFortnightly。ThenI
　　heardthatacertainMr。Lucaswasabouttostartamagazine，andI
　　offeredthepoemtohim。ThekindestletterofacceptancefollowedmetoAmerica，andIcounteduponfameandfortuneasusual，whenthenewsofMr。Lucas’sdeathcame。Iwillnotpoorlyjokeaneffectfrommypoeminthefact；butthefactremains。BythistimeIwasawriterintheofficeofthe’Nation’newspaper，andafterIleftthisplacetobeMr。
　　Fields’sassistantontheAtlantic，IsentmypoemtotheNation，whereitwasprintedatlast。Insuchscantmeasureasmyverseshavepleasedithasfoundratherunusualfavor，andIneednotsaythatitsmisfortunesendearedittoitsauthor。
　　ButallthisisratherfarawayfrommyfirstmeetingwithStedmaninWashington。OfcourseIlikedhim，andIthoughthimveryhandsomeandfine，withafullbeardcutinthefashionhehasalwayswornit，andwithpoet’seyeslightinganaquilineprofile。Afterwards，whenIsawhimafoot，Ifoundhimofaworldlysplendorindress，andenviedhim，asmuchasIcouldenvyhimanything，theNewYorktailorwhosearthadclothedhim：IhadaNewYorktailortoo，butwithadifference。Hehadaworldlydashalongwithhissupermundanegifts，whichtookmealmostasmuch，andallthemorebecauseIcouldseethathevaluedhimselfnothinguponit。Hewasallforliterature，andforliterarymenasthesuperiorsofeveryone。Imusthaveopenedmyhearttohimagooddeal，forwhenItoldhimhowthenewspaperIhadwrittenforfromCanadaandNewEnglandhadceasedtoprintmyletters，hesaid，"Thinkofamanlikesittinginjudgmentonamanlikeyou!"Ithoughtofit，andwasavengedifnotcomforted；andatanyrateIlikedStedman’sstandingupsostifflyforthehonorofacraftthatisrathertoolimpinsomeofitsvotaries。
　　IsupposeitwashewhointroducedmetotheStoddards，whomImetinNewYorkjustbeforeIsailed，andwhowerethenintheglowoftheirearlyfameaspoets。Theyknewaboutmypoorbeginnings，andtheywerevery，verygoodtome。StoddardwentwithmetoFranklinSquare，andgavethesanctionofhispresencetotheineffectualofferofmypoemthere。
　　ButwhatIrelishedmostwasthelongtalksIhadwiththembothaboutauthorshipinallitsphases，andtheexchangeofdelightinthispoemandthat，thisnovelandthat，withgay，wilfulrunsawaytomakesomewhollyirrelevantjoke，orfirepunsintotheairatnomarkwhatever。
　　Stoddardhadthenafame，withthesweetnessofpersonalaffectioninit，fromthelyricsandtheodesthatwillperhapsbestkeephimknown，andMrs。Stoddardwasbeginningtomakeherdistinctandspecialqualityfeltinthemagazines，inverseandfiction。Inbothitseemstomethatshehasfailedoftherecognitionwhichherworkmerits。Hertalesandnovelshaveinthemaforetasteofrealism，whichwastoostrangeforthepalateoftheirday，andisnowtoofamiliar，perhaps。Itisapeculiarfate，andwouldformtheschemeofaprettystudyinthehistoryofliterature。Butinwhatevershedidsheleftthestampofatalentlikenoother，andofapersonalitydisdainfulofliteraryenvironment。InatimewhenmostofushadtowritelikeTennyson，orLongfellow，orBrowning，sheneverwouldwritelikeanyonebutherself。
　　IrememberverywellthelodgingoveracornerofFourthAvenueandsomedowntownstreetwhereIvisitedthesewinningandgiftedpeople，andtastedthepleasureoftheirracytalk，andthehospitalityoftheirgood—willtowardallliterature，whichcertainlydidnotleavemeout。
　　WesatbeforetheirgrateinthechillofthelastOctoberdays，andtheyseteachotherontoonewildflightofwitafteranother，andagainI
　　bathedmydelightedspiritintheatmosphereofarealmwhereforthetimeatleastno"————rumorofoppressionordefeat，Ofunsuccessfulorsuccessfulwar，"
　　couldpenetrate。IlikedtheStoddardsbecausetheywerefranklynotofthatBohemiawhichIdislikedsomuch，andthoughtitofnopromiseorvalidity；andbecauseIwasfondoftheirpoetryandfoundtheminit。
　　Ilikedtheabsolutelyliterarykeepingoftheirlives。Hehadthen，andforlongafter，aplaceintheCustomhouse，buthewasnomoreofthatthanLambwasofIndiaHouse。Hebelongedtothatbetterworldwherethereisnointerestbutletters，andwhichwasasmuchlikeheavenformeasanythingIcouldthinkof。
　　ThemeetingswiththeStoddardsrepeatedthemselveswhenIcamebacktosailfromNewYork，earlyinNovember。Mixedupwiththecordialpleasureoftheminmymemoryisasenseofthecoldandwetoutdoors，andthemiseryofbeinginthoseinfamousNewYorkstreets，thenasforlongafterwardsthesqualidestintheworld。ThelastnightIsawmyfriendstheytoldmeofthetragedywhichhadjusthappenedatthecampintheCityHallPark。FitzJamesO’Brien，thebrilliantyoungIrishmanwhohaddazzleduswithhisstoryof"TheDiamondLens，"andfrozenourbloodwithhisingenioustaleofaghost——"WhatwasIt"——aghostthatcouldbefeltandheard，butnotseen——hadenlistedforthewar，andrisentobeanofficerwiththeswiftprocessofthefirstdaysofit。
　　Inthatcamphehadjustthenshotandkilledamanforsomeinfractionofdiscipline，anditwasuncertainwhattheendwouldbe。Hewasacquitted，however，anditisknownhowheafterwardsdiedoflockjawfromawoundreceivedinbattle。
　　VI。
　　BeforethislastvisitinNewYorktherewasasecondvisittoBoston，whichIneednotdwellupon，becauseitwaschieflyarevivaloftheimpressionsofthefirst。AgainIsawtheFieldsesintheirhome；againtheAutocratinhis，andLowellnowbeneathhisownroof，besidethestudyfirewhereIwassooftentositwithhimincomingyears。Atdinner（whichwehadattwoo’clock）thetalkturneduponmyappointment，andhesaidofmetohiswife："ThinkofhishavinggotStillman’splace!
　　Weoughttoputpoisoninhiswine，"andhetoldmeofthewishthepainterhadtogotoVeniceandfollowupRuskin’sworkthereinabookofhisown。Buthewouldnotletmefeelveryguilty，andIwillnotpretendthatIhadanypersonalregretformygoodfortune。
　　TheplacewasgivenmeperhapsbecauseIhadnotnearlysomanyothergiftsashewholostit，andwhowasatonceartist，critic，journalist，traveller，andeminentlyeach。ImethimafterwardsinRome，whichthepowersbestoweduponhiminsteadofVenice，andheforgaveme，thoughI
　　donotknowwhetherheforgavethepowers。WewalkedfarandlongovertheCampagna，andIfeltthecharmofamostuncommonmindintalkwhichcameoutrichestandfullestinthepresenceofthewildnaturewhichhelovedandknewsomuchbetterthanmostothermen。IthinkthatthebookhewouldhavewrittenaboutVeniceisforevertoberegretted，andIdonotatallconsolemyselfforitslosswiththebookIhavewrittenmyself。
　　AtLowell’stablethatdaytheyspokeofwhatsortofwinterIshouldfindinVenice，andheinclinedtothebeliefthatIshouldwantafirethere。Onhisstudyhearthaverybriskoneburnedwhenwewentbacktoit，andkeptoutthechillofacoldeasterlystorm。Welookedthroughoneofthewindowsattherain，andhesaidhecouldrememberstandingandlookingoutofthatwindowatsuchastormwhenhewasachild；forhewasborninthathouse，andhislifehadkeptcomingbacktoit。Hediedinit，atlast。
　　Inaliftingoftherainhewalkedwithmedowntothevillage，ashealwayscalledthedenserpartofthetownaboutHarvardSquare，andsawmeaboardahorse—carforBoston。Beforewepartedhegavemetwocharges：toopenmymouthwhenIbegantospeakItalian，andtothinkwellofwomen。Hesaidthatourracespokeitsowntonguewithitsteethshut，andsofailedtomasterthelanguagesthatwantedfreerutterance。
　　Astowomen，hesaidtherewereunworthyones，butagoodwomanwasthebestthingintheworld，andamanwasalwaysthebetterforhonoringwomen。