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Some linger awhile in the air, as if pleased with the fairy frolic. Others, like hail, rush headlong to the earth with a wild, mad eagerness. All, whether swift or slow, sink in the embrace of the dark water.

Here delicate snow-stars whirl in an airy chase. There broad and burly flakes jostle one another heedlessly.

Here could be seen uncertain little flakes clinging to each other side by side, making their long journey as friends like to make, hand in hand, the journey of life. No heed does the water pay. It seizes and drowns them all.

The poet, lost for a moment in pity, suddenly sees that the snowflakes, "those fair, frail creatures of middle sky," are fairly rushing to earth.

Tears stood in the eyes of his companion, for the disappearing snow brought thoughts of human friends whom death had borne away.

Every white flake, whether airy and playful, timid and clinging, curious and bold, or eager and headlong, found the dark lake awaiting it.

So to the sensitive poet the inevitable end of life, despite clinging sympathies, airy pleasures, and eager ambitions, was pictured in the scene.

Only as the poet remembered that the same lake would furnish moisture for other snow-flakes could he have gathered hope from the snow-shower.

3. HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW.

As in ages long past the wandering minstrel with tuneful harp entered all homes, welcomed as an honored guest, so for half a century have the works of Longfellow entered the homes of this and other lands, touching the chords of pure and true feeling. In his youth he said, —

"We can make our lives sublime."

In later life he added,

"Age is opportunity no less

Than youth itself."

Are not these inspiring words? The history of such a man must be interesting to us.

He was born in Portland, the largest city in Maine, February 27, 1807. In the same year were born the poets J. G. Whittier and N. P. Willis, the latter also in Portland. Charles Sumner, born in 1801; R. W. Emerson, in 1803; Nathaniel Hawthorne, in 1804, and O. W. Holmes, born in 1809, all New Englanders, were his lifelong friends.

In Longfellow's birth-year President Jefferson was nearing the close of his second administration; the war of 1812 was already threatening the country, and the telegraph was unthought of. Abroad, all Europe was in turmoil through the movements of one man, Napoleon Bonaparte.

Portland, the birthplace of the poet, is situated between two hills, on a neck of land looking out upon Casco Bay and the islands, and stretching back eighty miles to the White Mountains, Mount Washington being just visible.

Fish-hawks built their nests in the lofty old pines on the hills, and plovers, curlews and sandbirds visited the beach. Portland was a busy town, too, with its tanneries, its distilleries, its rope factory, and its pottery. Memories of the last two have given rise to "The Ropewalk" and "Keramos," two fine poems.

But the chief business was the lumber trade. The exciting scenes at the old wharf where the Spanish sailors with their dark, flowing beards, the toiling negroes, the cargoes of sugar and molasses replaced by loads of Canadian lumber drawn by the patient oxen, all combined to form a picturesque

sight, which Longfellow has preserved in his poem, "My Lost Youth":

“I remember the black wharves and the ships
And the sea-tides tossing free,

And the beauty and mystery of the ships
And the magic of the sea."

Longfellow's father, Stephen Longfellow, a graduate of Harvard and a lawyer and legislator, traced his ancestry back to William Longfellow who came to Portland from England in 1651. Mrs. Long

fellow, the poet's mother, formerly Miss Zilpah Wadsworth, was a descendant of John Alden and Priscilla Mullins, "the Puritan Maiden," as was also the poet W. C. Bryant. Longfellow's poem, "The Courtship of Miles Standish," is therefore a tribute to his mother.

Longfellow attended various schools in Portland till he was fourteen years old, when he was sent to Bowdoin College at Brunswick, thirty miles distant. He graduated with honor five years later in the class with Hawthorne, and after a year's study of law, received the offer of the professorship of modern languages at Bowdoin. This offer was especially complimentary as the position was created for him, it having been hitherto thought sufficient to teach only Latin and Greek.

As the offer permitted him to go abroad to prepare himself, he spent four years in Spain, France, Italy, and Germany, mastering the languages of those countries. Returning, he held the position at Bowdoin five years, highly honored as an instructor and developing among the pupils a love for language study.

He was sometimes joked a little on account of the elegance of his dress, about which he was always particular.

While teaching in Bowdoin, he married Miss Mary Potter, a beautiful and highly accomplished woman, daughter of Judge Potter of Portland.

In 1835 he accepted the offer of a position at Harvard College, Cambridge, similar to his position at Bowdoin, first spending one year abroad. During this time he lost his young wife at Rotterdam. How deeply the loss touched him one sees in his "Footsteps of Angels" and in the first part of " Hyperion."

For seventeen years Longfellow was professor at Harvard, beloved and esteemed by all.

During this time he purchased an old colonial mansion, built in 1759 and known as the Craigie House. It was the headquarters of Washington during the Revolution, but had been subsequently beautified by Mr. Craigie who spent a fortune upon it. It is a large frame house of a buff color, with white trimmings and green blinds. It has a wide veranda on each side, and a hip roof with balustrade. The large, terraced lawn contains magnificent elms and handsome shrubs; a wall of white and purple lilacs, overrun in autumn by flaming woodbine, separates it from the street. In the rear is a wonderful garden.

Having married Miss Fanny Appleton in 1843, he now took up his abode in this long-coveted mansion which, from the ideal life he passed here, became truly a "House Beautiful." His wife was a lady of remarkable loveliness of mind and persona tall, stately brunette, with radiant complexion and deep eyes "that did not twinkle,"

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