THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES H / TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS And Their Work BY ELLA REEVE; WARE AiatUor of Three "Little Lovers of Nature" 'O noble work of toil and care, O task most beautiful and tare, O simple but most arduous plan- To build up an immortal man." ^ CHICAGO A. FLANAGAN PuBi^iSHER > ^ > A •> 3 i i i i i i i Copyright 1899, BY A. Flanagan. ,' » 1,1. I P/V 51/ Introduction. These sketches of well knowu authors are written in simple language so that children may read and un- derstand them, lyittle folks will be more interested in what they read when they are familiar enough with authors to make them seem like "real folks." It is impossible in a limited space to give complete information concerning the lives of these authors, or the motives which have inspired them in their work, but it is hoped that these familiar chats may give a taste for further reading and study. This little book can be used for reading lessons, ui 2 as the foundation for "morning talks" or for language lessons. When used as language lessons, if a special lesson should be given on the birthday of each author, it would help to impress his personality on the minds of the pupils. 448307 THE GARDEN OF LIFE. By a. E. GUFFEY. 'The Garden of Life — it beareth well, It will repay our care; But the blossoms must always and ever be Like the seed we're planting there. For beautiful thoughts make beautiful lives. And every word and deed Lies in the thought that prompted it, As the flower lies in the seed." —''Christian at Work:' "Think truly, and thy thoughts Shall the world's famine feed; Speak truly, and each word of thine Shall be a faithful seed; Live truly, and thy life shall be A great and noble creed." — Bonar. CONTENTS Agassiz, Louis 62 Alcott, Louisa 163 Andersen, Hans Christian . 41 Bjornsen, Bjornstjerne 159 Burnett, Frances Hodgson 182 Burns, Robert 17 Dickens, Charles 126 Eggleston, Edward 132 Field, Eugene 199 Grimm Brothers 37 Hale, Everett Edward 153 ^^^arris, Joel Chandler 190 Howells, WiUiam Dean 141 Hawthorne, Nathaniel 52 Irving, Washington 26 Kingsley, Charles 126 Kipling, Rudyard 220 Longfellow, Henry W 71 Mendelssohn, Felix 13 Mozart, Wolfgang 9 Riley, James Whitcomb 211 Stevenson, Robert Louis 203 Stowe, Harriet Beecher 117 Twain, Mark 173 Whittier, John G 87 Willard, Frances • . 147 WOLFGANG MOZART. TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS AND THEIR WORK. TWO LITTLE GERMAN BOYS. WOLFGANG MOZART. Born January 27, 1756; Died 1791 • Over a hundred years ago a sickly little boy, named Wolfgang Mozart, lived in the town of Salzburg, in Germany. His father was a musi- cian, and felt very proud when he discovered that his boy had a wonderful talent for music. When he was only four years old he began to play the piano, and everyone was astonished to hear him composing the music as he played. He was a merry, active little fellow. Music seemed to be his greatest joy in life. His father gave him a small violin when he was very young and he soon mastered it. One evening there was a musical party at his father's home and the players wanted to make up a violin quartette. The man who was expected to play the second violin was absent, and little Wolfgang begged (V 10 TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. them to let him play the part, but his father laughed at him and told him to be quiet. The child cried so hard the musicians finally told him that he might try to play it for them. Perched on a high stool, with his music before him, he played the whole part through without a mis- take. His father was as much surprised as the rest of the company. Mozart's father became so proud of his son he thought all the great princes ought to hear him, so he started off on a long journey, taking the boy to kings' palaces and to the homes of rich and great men. Of course, they were all delighted with his wonderful playing, but, instead of giving the boy and his father money, which they very much needed, they gave him many useless presents — fine gold watches that would not go, swords, snuff-boxes and all sorts of jewelry. As it was not considered right to sell presents given by royal persons, little Mozart and his father had to go hungry many times. After traveling all over Northern Europe and visiting England, they returned to Salzburg cov- ered with glory, but with very little money in their pockets. TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. 11 Mozart was then about twelve years old, and in one year at home he composed sonatas, canta- tas, masses and many other pieces of music so beautiful and good that they are still enjoyed by music-lovers all over the world. The next year the whole family set out on another musical journey. In Vienna the boy composed a German opera, which was performed at the house of a friend. While away from home on this journey, he nearly lost his life with the small-pox. When they returned to Salzburg, he was made Concert Master by the Archbishop, but his father could not settle down with his wonderful boy, so they undertook still another journey, this time going to Italy. This was, indeed, a holiday trip. The boy's playing was so admirable, and his character so sweet and gentle, that every concert was a tri- umph for him. At one of his concerts his playing showed such marvelous power that there was a great up- roar in the audience. Some one cried out that he ivore a magic ring and, if it should be taken off, he could not play. When the boy heard the cries and the uproar, he at once took off his ring and, of course, played as well as before. 12 TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. Mozart had many trials, especially on account of his poverty. While he was in the Archbishop's family as Keppel-Meister he was compelled to eat with the kitchen servants, but he always made the best of everything, and those servants must have had a happy life while that sunny-tempered genius lived with them. The music of Mozart was a reflection of his nature. The sweet strains cheer and comfort many souls. His life was a short one, but the sunshine of his brave, cheery spirit found ex- pression in his music, and it touches the hearts of every one. His opera of Figaro was given every night during one whole winter in Prague and became very popular. Babies were rocked to sleep by the cradle-songs, the hand-organs ground out the airs and men and boys on the streets whistled the melodies from this beautiful opera. Close application to his work broke down his health, and when he was only thirty-five years old, he died while composing one of his greatest works, " The Requiem." This was sung at his funeral and it is known to-day as ''Mozart's Requiem." It breathes the last thoughts of Mozart, his sadness over his broken hopes, and his love for his wife and his music. FELIX MENDELSSOHN. Boru February 3, IMi''; Died ls47. After the death of Mozart another boy musician in Germany began to be talked about. In a rich and beautiful home in Berlin, quite different from the poor, plain home of Mozart, there lived a dark-haired little Jewish boy named Felix Men- delssohn. He and his sister Fanny began to play the piano and compose music just as Mozart did. Felix loved his sister very much and she helped him by her praise of his compositions. He said that she knew his operas by heart before he wrote out a note. Felix was taken to see Goetlie, the great Ger- man writer, when he was only twelve years old. The great old man was much pleased with the boy and his music ; he tested his power by giving him manuscript-music composed by Beethoven and Mozart, to play. ^Mendelssohn played it all easily and with much expression. Goethe never forgot this first visit of the musical genius, and as long as he lived he called the boy his friend. The home life of Mendelssohn was full of in- spiration to him. His father gave many musical (13) 14 TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. parties, which brought together musicians who were accomplished interpreters of the music of the great masters. The boy and his sister Fanny first played his beautiful Overture called "A Midsummer Night's Dream," as a piano duet. It was meant to repre- sent Shakespere's "Fairy Play" in music; if you listen when you hear it played at a concert, I think you will be sure to hear the merry songs of Pease Blossom, Mustard Seed and all the other fairies, and the hum of the insects, and you can almost see all the queer little people who live in the woods, in their merry dances. Whenever Mendelssohn desired to describe to his sister anything that he had seen in his trav- els, he would sit down to the piano and play to her instead of talking. If it was a sea voyage, she could almost hear the roll of the billows, the flapping of the sails, and feel the brisk salt air of the ocean. After his visit to Scotland he de- scribed Fingal's Cave and the rocky Hebrides by composing a grand symphony called '' The Hebrides." His " Songs Without Words " are really like words, for in their sweet tones we can easily catch their true meaning. " Consolation," one of these " songs," has comforted many a sad FELIX MENDELSSOHN. 16 TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. soul, and in "The Spring Song" we can see the first flowers, hear the bird's note, and the rustle of the leaves, and feel the stir of the fresh, new life of the spring-time. Once, when speaking of her brother's success in setting to music verses from " Walpurgis- Night Dream," in " Faust," Fanny proudly said: "To me he told his idea ; one feels so near the world of spirits, carried away in the air, and half inclined to snatch up a broom-stick and follow the aerial procession. At the end, the first violin takes a flight with feather-like lightness and all has vanished." Fanny and Felix both had happy homes after they were married. Fanny's husband was Wil- helm Hensel, a noted artist. She had high hopes for the future in the success of her husband and brother, but, while sitting at the piano one day, practicing with her little choir of children, she suddenly died. This was such a terrible grief to Felix that he, too, died before the year was over. But Felix Mendelssohn, the little Jewish boy who lived his short life so long ago in German}'-, will always be remembered through his music, and he is still considered one of the great musicians of the world. ROBERT BURNS, "THE SCOTCH I^ADDIE." Born January 25, 1759, Died 1796. Some day when 3''OU are reading "The Cotter's vSaturday Night," or some other poem by Robert Burns, you will want to know something of his life. His verses are full of pictures of his life in Scotland and, as you read them, you can almost see "The Banks and Braes of Bonnie Doon." Robert was born in a little house about two miles from the town of Ayr, away up in the north of Scotland. His father was a kind man, and his children felt very sad if they were naughty enough to cause him to speak a cross word to them. Robert said, "If he had to give us a stripe with Taws, a leather strap, it gave us great pain, even if it just touched the skirt of our coat," and they wept and wailed whenever such a thing happened. Robert, in telling the story of his boyhood, said: "I was a good English scholar at eleven 3^ears of age, but it cost the school-master some thrashings." (17) 18 TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. When Burns was about fifteen years old he had to work on his father's farm, and one day when he was in the harvest field the inspiration came to him to write his first poem. There was a las- sie, a "bonnie sweet lassie," gleaning in the field with him, and he made some verses for her to sing, as she had a very sweet voice. Of course all the other boys and girls thought they were fine, and the lassie sang them as often as she could get them to listen. There was an old woman living in the Burns family who used to tell the children most won- derful stories of witches, ghosts, fairies, brownies, spunkies, and kelpies. The Scotch lads and lasses used to look for them whenever they played in the fields or woods. The old woman taught them that fairies and brownies lived in the woods, that witches and ghosts made their homes in grave-yards; kelpies were fairies that lived near water, and spunkies were little will-o'wisps and could really be seen flying over marshes flashing oUt like sparks of fire. She also told them that in all the high hills there were giants and dragons, so wherever the children went, they were sure to be near the homes of some of these queer folks. Of course, the boy, Robert, imagined many ROBERT BURNS. 20 TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. stories about them, and he says he used to keep a sharp lookout in dark places, while walking out at night, for, although he did not believe in ghosts, he could not shake off the memory of the old woman's tales. Burns loved company, and made a great man}^ friends, because he was so jolly, and could make suck fine verses. When he was going out into the world to try his fortune he wrote a poem about it, which, he says, described his feelings at the time. "My father was a farmer, Upon the Carrick border, And cheerfully he bred me In decency and order. He bade me act a manly part. Though I had ne'er a farthing, For without an honest, manly heart. No man was worth regarding. Then out into the world, My course I did determine; Though to be rich was not my wish, Yet to be great was charming; My talents they were not the worst, Nor yet my education, Resolv'd, was I, at least, to try. To mend my situation." TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. 21 Then he tells of his misfortunes which hap- pened, as he saj^s, by "Mischance, mistake, or by neglect, Or my good natured folly; But come what will, I've sworn it still, I'll ne'er be melancholy." BURNS' BIRTHPLACE. At this time, Burns had all the eagerness of a boy for travel and adventure, although he had reached manhood. He started off to Edinburgh with enough poems to make a book. The bool<: was published in Edinburgh and brought him 22 TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. many friends, and from its sale he received quite a large sum of money. His family felt proud of him when he returned home and told them of his fine reception in the great city, but he was ready to share all his money with the folks at home. He finally settled down on a farm, at Ellisland, with wife and children, and was made excise man of the district. His duties were to collect the revenue taxes, and as he rode on horse- back among the hills and vales, his mind was more often on poetry and the beauty of nature, than on the taxes. But with all his rich genius and good pros- pects for a happy life there were many in those days who called him "Poor Bobby Burns," and many do it yet. Yes, with all his wealth of mind, he was poor in will-power. He v.as not strong enough to keep from drinking' too much, and it was this weakness that ruined his life, and left his wife and children poor. It is hard for us to think of the sad times of his life when we see his picture with the beautiful dark eyes, the high forehead, shaded with black, curly hair, and look into the pleasant face, and we turn to his poems, glad that part of his life, at least, was rich with love and beauty. TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. 23 SCRAPS FROM BURNS' POEMS. "Then gently scan your brother man, Still gentler sister woman; Though they may gang a kennin' wrong, To step aside is human." "Oh, wad some power the giftie gie us To see oursels as others see us! It wad frae mony a blunder free us And foolish notion!" "Then, let us pray that come it may, As come it will for a' that. That sense and worth o'er a' the earth May bear the gree, and a' that; For a' that and a' that, It's coming yet for a' that; That man to man the world o'er Shall brothers be for a' that." Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And never brought to min'? Should auld accquaintance be forgot. And days o' auld lang syne?" "For auld lang syne, my dear. For auld lang syne, We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet, For auld' lang syne!" 24 TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. "We twa hae run about the braes, And pu'd the gowans fine; But we've wandered mony a weary foot Sin' auld lang syne!" "Here's freedom to him that wad read, Here's freedom to him that wad write; There's nane ever feared that the truth should be heard But they whom the truth wad indite." The following verses by Lowell will be appre- ciated by those who love this poet: He spoke of Burns; men rude and rough Pressed round to hear the praise of one Whose breast was made of manly, simple stuff As homespun as their own. And when he read they forward leaned And heard v/ith eager hearts and ears His bird-like songs, whom glory never weaned From humble smiles and tears. Slowly there grew a tender awe Sunlike o'er faces brown and hard As if in him who read they felt and saw Some presence of the bard. v^ itl^ t.lf %^ kX* s^ ^JH ^JH *^ ^^ ^% *f* I thought these men will carry hence Promptings their former life above, And something of a finer reverence For beauty, truth and love. TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. 25 God scatters love on every side Freely among his children all, And always hearts are lying open wide Wherein some grains may fall. There is no wind but blows some seeds Of a more true and open life Which burst unlocked for into high-souled deeds With wayside beauty rife. Within the hearts of all men lie These promises of wider bliss Which blossom into hopes that cannot die In sunny hours like this. ****** It may be glorious to write Thoughts that shall glad the two or ihrce High souls like those far stars that come in sight Once in a century. But better far it is to speak One simple word which, now and then, Shall waken their free nature in the weak And friendless sons of men. WASHINGTON IRVING. Born April 3, ITS'); Died 1S50. This great American author wrote at times under other names. The "Sketch Book" was signed "Geoffrey Crayon," and his "History of New York" was supposed to have been written by an old man named " Diedrich Knickerbocker." Irving's style was so beautiful, his descriptions so well written and his humor and pathos so fine that his books soon became known as his own work, whatever name was signed to them. It is supposed that he inherited his love of the beautiful in nature and art from his mother, who was a beautiful girl, grand-daughter of an English curate. She was impulsive and ten- der-hearted, and had a fine mind, and Irving and his brothers and sisters were much influ- enced by her. His father was a Scotch Pres- byterian and his stern idea about religion es- specially repelled the boy Washington, and he was confirmed at an early age in the Episcopalian church, to which his mother belonged, to escape any possibility of being compelled to conform to the rigid views of his father. His father was a (26) WASHINGTON IRVING. 28 TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. man of noble character, and, no doubt, bad tenderness in his nature, but he thought it his duty to repress it. Irving's father and mother, after they had been married two years, left Scotland and landed in New York in 1763. Here they were quite happy and successful until the Revolutionary War broke up the father's business, and they both were made to suffer for their opinions by the British who occupied New York. Mrs. Irving would often feed American prisoners from her own table, visit those who were sick, and find cloth- ing and other necessaries for them. When little Washington was born in 1783, in an old house on William street, between Fulton and John streets, the American army occupied the city, and his mother said: "Washington's work is ended, the child shall be named after him." New York was the first seat of the govern- ment, so Washington was there later as the President. A Scotch girl living in the Irving family followed the hero into a store one day, dragging the little boy after her; " Please, your honor," she cried, "here's a bairn was named after you." The great man put his hand on the little boy's head and blessed him, never dreaming TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. 29 that in the years to come this boy would write the "Life of Washington," which is to-day con- sidered one of the best histories of his life and times that has ever been written. When Washington Irving was a little boy he was living in the city, and he used to wander around the wharves to watch the vessels sailing away and wishing that he could "sail to the ends of the earth." New York was very different in those old days from the great rushing city it is to-day — it had but twenty-three thousand in- habitants, all living around the Battery. Beyond the city hall park there were only country houses, orchards and corn-fields. The Dutch and English residents did not mingle very freely, but Irving seems to have been on good terms with both. They had but one or two newspapers, one theatre, and the old water-pumps still stood in the middle of the streets. But there was even at this early day a stir and bustle that promised greater things for the future, and the boy seemed to have caught the restless spirit. His mother would look at the handsome boy half mournfully and say, "O Washington, if you were only good." He had a great love of music, and soon tasted the stolen delight of the theatre. Whenever he could save a little money he would 30 TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. steal away from home early in the evening to the old theatre in John Street. He would go home in time for family prayers at nine o'clock, then go to his room, climb out of the win- dow, slide down the roof to a back alley, and go back to the theatre to see the end of the play. It was hard to get good teachers for the boy and he did not study very faithfully, but his love of reading, especially of books of travel, his love of nature and his quick, bright powers of observa- tion, were an unconscious education fitting him for his life-work, as no course of Greek or Latin study could have done. He used to pass the summer holidays in Westchester County explor- ing the "Sleepy Hollow" country, which he has made familiar to all the world by his stories. "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow," has drawn many a pilgrim to this region to see the enchanted val- ley. Irving's description of it makes the reader feel the quiet and the peacefulness of the real Sleepy Hollow. "The Headless Horseman" and poor "Ichabod Crane," the school master who "tarried" in the valley to teach the children, are as familiar to him as to the author. The valley is near the village of Tarrytown, which name Irving says was given it by the country wives, because their husbands tarried so TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. 31 long about the village tavern on market days. He says — "Not far from this village, perhaps about two miles, there is a little valley, or rather lap of land among high hills, which is one of the quietest places in the whole world. A small brook glides through it with just murmur enough to lull one to repose; and the occasional whistle of a quail, or tapping of a wood-pecker, is almost the only sound that ever breaks in upon the uniform tranquility. * * * * I recollect that when a stripling, my first ex- ploit in squirrel-shooting was in a grove of tall walnut-trees that shades one side of the valley. I had wandered into it at noon-time when all nature is peculiarly quiet and was startled by the roar of my own gun as it broke the sabbath stillness around, and was prolonged and rever- berated by the angry echoes." The boy who used to pass so many summer days in this valley of Sleepy Hollow with his gun, grewup without any business. He commenced to study in a lawyer's office but he read more books of travel than of law. Later his health failing, he decided to go across the ocean. While traveling in England the news came to him that his fortune was gone. Although this seemed a trial and misfortune at the time, it proved to be a blessing in the end, for it decided 32 TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. him as to his life-work. He knew Sir Walter Scott, the great story-writer of England, and was introduced by him to the publisher Murray, who was persuaded, much against his will, to publish a book for Irving called "The Sketch Book," a collection of stories containing "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow," The Pride of the Village," "Rip Van Winkle," and other stories, beside descrip- tions of English life as he had observed it in his travels, especially of the Christmas customs and merry-making. Murray gave him a thousand dollars, which helped him to make a new begin- ning in life, and so successful was the book that he afterward gave him more money for it and paid him seventy-five hundred dollars for his "Tales of a Traveller" before he had read the manuscript. He traveled much in Spain, living there at one time — while writing "The Alhambra" and "The Spanish Papers." It is said that he wrote his story of the Alhambra inside the walls of the beautiful palace, spending whole days there. He received political honors during his life, being at one time minister to Spain, at another time sec- retary of the American Legation in England. The last years of his life were spent near the enchanted region of his fancy. TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. 33 His home, called "Sunnyside," was built near Tarrytown. Here he lived with his nieces, for he never married. He was remarkably strong, and was busy with his mental work to the end IRVING'S home — SUNNYSIDE. of his life, writing his wonderful "Life of Wash- ington," when he was in his eightieth year. His books were read by many people, all over the world. One edition of fifteen volumes reached a sale of two hundred and fifty thousand. One 34 TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. story ill the "Sketch Book" will be remembered and loved more than any of the others. It is that of "Rip Van Winkle." No one can ever forget the little men who lived in the Kaatskill mountains, and the story of the young man who wandered off one day with his dog and his gun for a rest from the sharp tongue of his wife, Gretchen, and Ij^ing down on the mountain to sleep, somehow fell under the bewitching in- fluence of the little men of the mountain, and slept for twenty years; his amazement on waking to find an old rust}^ fire-lock by his side instead of his own well-oiled gun, his dog, Wolf, gone, and a flowing white beard on his face; his exper- iences on going back to the village and finding everything changed, his own littie ones grown up, with children of their own. All this won- derful story seems really a true one when reading Irving's wonderful description. It is hard to be- lieve that Rip Van Winkle did not really live in the little village, on the banks of the Hudson river, or sleep for twenty years in the Kaatskill mountains, if one is so fortunate as to see it acted by the famous Joseph Jefferson. That there was an old man who used to tell this story of him- self in Irving's time, must be supposed, for the author says, in his funny way, at the close of the TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. 35 story, "He used to tell his story to every stranger that arrived at Mr. Doolittle's hotel. He was observed, at first, to var}'- on some points every time he told it, which was doubtless owing to his having so recently awaked. It at last settled down precisely to the tale I have related, and not a man, woman or child in the neighborhood but ■ what knew it by heart. Some always pretended to doubt the reality of it, and insisted that Rip had been out of his head and that was one point on which he always remained flighty. The old Dutch inhabitants, however, almost universally gave it full credit. Even to this day, they never hear a thunder-storm, of a summer afternoon about the Kaatskill, but what they say, Hen- drick Hudson and his crew are at their game of nine-pins; and it is a common wish of all hen- pecked husbands in the neighborhood when life hangs heavy on their hands that they might have a quieting draught out of Rip Van Winkle's flagon." This story gives a good example of Irving's humor, which often appears in his stories. Per- haps this humor, combined with sentiment and pathos, was his greatest gift. Critics have said that his work lacked imagination, but, if this is true, it still has an enduring charm that pleases 36 TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. and interests the reader as much to-day as when the words were written nearly a hundred years ago, and his pen has madean enchanted country of the Sleepy Hollow valley, and almost sacred ground of the hill overlooking the valley and the shining river Hudson. THE GRIMM BROTHERS. JAKOB LUDWIG GRIMM. Born January 4, 17y5; Died 1863. WILHELM KARL GRIMM. Born February 24, 1786; Died 1859. Next to Andersen's Fairy Tales, The Stories of Wilhelm and Jakob Grimm are loved in all households. Grimm's Tales are told in a plain, simple way, and yet they are full of interest. "The Town Musicians," "Hans and Gretel" and many others will always be dear to the chil- dren of every country. The most beautiful thing about the lives and work of the Grimm brothers was their love for each other. Just one year's difference in their ages, they kept together in their classes at school, and when their father died, while they were still small boys, through the kindness of an aunt they were prepared for the University. At the University of Marbourg they came under the influence of a learned man named Savigny. He stimulated their love for learning and of books. (,?7) 443307 38 TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. . One winter, when he was doing some special work in Paris, he sent for Jakob Grimm to help him. This was the first separation of the brothers, and almost the only one of their whole lives. The mother was pleased at the honor given her boy, but was very anxious over the journey. All the time he was on the road she could not sleep, but would get up from bed to notice the weather, fearing that he might freeze to death or meet with some accident. She did not live to enjoy the fame of her sons, but died while they were still struggling to make a living. Soon after her death Jakob was ap- pointed Librarian of the King of Westphalia. This gave him a fine salary and plenty of time to study, no one but the King being allowed the use of the library. He studied here for five years, much of the time having his brother Wil- helm with him. Later, the brothers both secured positions in the Electoral Library at Cassel. While they worked together in this library for over thirteen years they published a number of books, among others, those so dear to children, "The Kinder- und Haus-marchen," Children's Tales and Household Tales. TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. 39 They gathered the stories from the peasants of Hesse and Hanan, many of them being told to them by the wife of a cow-herd near Cassel. She had a remarkable memory for old folk-lore stories and she told them so thoughtfully and with so much expression the brothers could al- most write the stories direct from her dictation. For years these brothers continued to write together, for a long time occupying the same study, and after that, having adjoining rooms. Besides their Household Stories they wrote great works on History and a large German Grammar in four volumes — works on German Mythology, Stories called "Old German Forests," extracts from the Elder Edda, a collection of German Legends and a volume of Irish Fairy Stories. The brothers received appointments as pro- fessor and librarian at the University of Gottin- gen, and later as members of the Academy by the King of Prussia. This called them to Berlin and here they spent the last years of their life, always working together, dressing alike, eating at the same table and together owning a fine library. Jakob was custodian of the books they both loved so well, and he could put his hand on any one of them in the dark, so familiar was he with them all. Besides their passion for 40 TAI.KS ABOUT AUTHORS. books, they both loved flowers. Wilheiji's windows were always full of primroses in full bloom, and Jakob's of heliotrope and gilliflower. Wilhelm married, but this did not disturb the peaceful union of the brothers. His wife took faithful care of Jakob, too, and not until death came to Wilhelm was this beautiful friendship broken. When we read Grimm's Fairy Tales after this, let us think of the love of these two brothers for each other, of their long years of faithful work together, which has left the world richer on account of their loving comradeship — "A lowly roof may give us proof That lowly flowers are often fairest; And trees whose bark is hard and dark May yield us fruit and bloom the rarest." HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN, "THE DANISH BOY." Born, April 2, 1805; Died 1875. All children who love to read fair}^ stories, know, as old friends, the many "Wonder Stories" of Hans Andersen. The}- love the story of "The Ugly Duckling," "The Snow Queen" "The Constant Tin Soldier" and others just as beauti- ful. There is a book written b}^ him that some of the children have not heard of, that is perhaps, the most interesting of all. He says of it, "It is my 'Wonder Story.' " It is called "The Story of My Own Life." It is as beautiful and strange as a fairy tale — the story of this poor little Danish bo}', who though so poor and obscure found his way by his wonderful stories into the palaces of kings, and into the homes of poets and writers of many lands. His father was a poor, young shoe-maker in the town of Odense in Denmark. In his bo}^- hood he had longed to go to school and had always loved books, but his extreme povert}^ had kept him tied to his shoe-maker's bench. (41) 42 'TAI.ES ABOUT AUTHORS. He had made nearly all the furniture in his little home, and Hans' mother, who loved the boy and his father very much, but who didn't care for books, kept the place very clean and attractive, so that Hans always remembered it as a pleasant little home. The walls were covered with pictures and over the work-bench was a closet filled with books and songs. The kitchen shone with metal pans and bright plates, and by climbing on a ladder he could get on the roof, where his mother had a vegetable garden planted in a great chest filled with soil. In the story of "The Snow Queen," the garden is this same roof-garden of his mother's In two other stories he has drawn some events in his mother's life. She had been a poor little child and had been sent out by her parents to beg. She told little Hans how one day she had sat and cried all day under a bridge. His mother's character is brought into the story of "Only a Fiddler" and "The Improvisatore." Hans' father loved the boy with his whole heart. He invented all sorts of plays for him, making theatres and changing pictures and reading to him from "Holberg's Plays" and "The Arabian Tales." On pleasant Sundays he took him for whole days in the woods, and HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN, 44 TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. there is no doubt tliat the boy's imagination and tender love of nature were helped in their growth by his loving father. Hans' grand-father lived in the neighborhood and was feeble-minded. His grand-mother was a fine old lady who had belonged to a very good family and it was probably her early teaching that had instilled the love of books in Hans' father. She loved Hans dearly and he liked to be near her, but he was afraid of his poor old grand-father. When he saw him coming down the street with his basket of carved, wooden figures, beasts with heads, and beasts with wings, he would run and hide, for he was ashamed when the boys shouted at him. But the old man was kind and good, taking his basket of queer toys out into the country and giving them to the peasant women and children. Little Hans had bright, observing eyes, but he used to walk around with his eyes closed, dream- ing out his stories until the people thought his eyes were weak. An old woman who kept an A. B. C. school taught him to read and write. She used to whip the other children with a great rod, but Hans' mother told her when she took him to school that she would not have him touched with the TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. 45 rod. But one day the old woman forgot this order, and hit him. Hans rose from his seat at once, took his book, and went home. He then went to a school for boys, where there was just one little girl, and they became great friends, and he told her wonderful stories of the great castle he expected to live in some day, when he grew to be a nobleman, and he said she might come to see it. She would listen, and say, "But you are only a poor boy." One day he told her he was a changed child of high birth, and that the angels of God came down and spoke to him. She looked at the other boys, and said, "He is a fool, just like his grand-father." This made poor Hans shiver, and he never told her any more of his fairy tales, and wouldn't have her for a play- mate. The teacher, Mr. Carsten, loved him very much and used to give him cakes and flowers. In the summer-time, during the harvest, his mother took him into the fields to glean the grain that fell on the ground after the reapers had passed. One day the bailiff, a cross, savage man, chased them from the field with a huge whip in his hand. His mother and the other gleaners ran very fast, but poor little Hans had wooden shoes on his feet and they came off in the hurry, 46 TAI.KS ABOUT AUTHORS. SO the thorns pricked his bare feet, and he had to stop running and face the angry man alone. He had his whip raised to strike the boy, when he looked him in the face, and said, "How dare you strike me, when God is looking." The man looked at him, and suddenly became mild, pat- ting him on the cheek, asking him his name and giving him some money. When he showed it to his mother, she said to the others: "He is a strange child, my Hans Christian, everybody is kind to him, this bad fellow even, has given him money." He must have been a funny looking boy in those days, the little Hans. He says in his story — "As to my dress, I was rather spruce, an old woman altered my father's clothes for me, my mother would fasten three or four large pieces of silk on my breast, and that had to do for vests, a large kerchief was tied round my neck in a mighty bow, my head was washed with soap and my hair curled, and then I was in all my glory." Hans' father loved to read plays, and when they had a good play-house, or theatre, built at Odense, he took the boy to see some German plays acted. This was a precious memory to Hans, with his lively imagination. He soon became ac- quainted with the man who wrote out the bills TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. 47 or programs, and he gave the boy one each day. He would take them off into a corner by himself and imagine whole dramas about the names of the characters on the bill. And so his peaceful, happy boyhood passed away, broken by the rude shock of his dear father's death. After that he was left entirely to himself while his mother went out w^ashing. He sat alone playing with his dolls and the the- atres his father had made him. In the neighborhood there lived the widow of a minister, who noticed the boy with the long bright hair, and often invited him to come in to see her. She read poems and stories to him, and in her house he first heard Shakespere's Plays read. From this time he became ambitious to be a poet himself, this poor, uneducated boy. His mother decided that he must go to work in a factory. This was a great trial to the sensi- tive child. The coarse men made him sing for them, and his beautiful voice was often heard in the grim old factory. Some of the rough men teased him so cruelly he w-as obliged to leave the place. His mother, who had married again, then de- termined that he should learn to be a tailor. Poor 48 TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. Hans rebelled at this, and said that, now that he was fourteen years old, he was going to the city of Copenhagen to seek his fortune. He was so determined that finally his mother gave her consent, and, taking a little money they had scraped together, the boy started off with high hopes. He made friends by his fine voice, and an Italian music teacher gave him lessons in singing. But, because of his thin, ragged clothing and not having enough to eat, he became sick and almost lost his voice. He was then turned out upon the world again. By perseverance he gained the friendship of good men, and finally, after all of them had agreed that he could never be a good writer or good actor until he had an education, he went to a grammar school, his expenses being paid by a Mr. Collins, a friend who was always very good to him. At school he had a hard time, for he had to begin in classes with little children. He soon worked up, however, and when he graduated began to write his stories. First he wrote a story of a journey he made on foot, then he wrote poems and plays, but it was as a writer for children he became more widely known. While his own countrymen sneered at his work TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. 49 for years and hurt him cruelly by unjust criti- cism, in every other country his name became a household word. He traveled to Paris, Italy and England after leaving school, and it proved the best thing for him to get away from the narrow home circles and find those who understood him. He spent many happy days with Thorwaldsen, the great sculptor, one of his countr^mien who, like himself, had been a poor bo}^, and whose beautiful work was not appreciated in his own land. Andersen wrote several of his tales for children while sitting with Thorwaldsen — "Ole Luckoie" and others, which pleased the sculptor very much. When Andersen visited England, Charles Dickens took him to his home and with him he had a visit that he remembered with joy all his life. Dickens loved to read ''The Tin Soldier" and many other stories of his, and the six children of the household felt that this Hans Andersen belonged to them, so much did they love his Wonder Stories. Mendelssohn in Ger- many sought him for a friend, and musicians, writers and every one loved this man from Den- mark, whose stories charmed them by their beauty and simplicity. Years afterward his own countrymen gave 50 TAI^KS ABOUT AUTHORS. him the honor they had held back so long. Men who had scorned him, tried to gain his favor. He was forgiving and gentle, and was more pleased with the festival given for him in his old home town of Odense than with all the praise of kings and the great men of other countries. The Ugly Duckling had changed into the beautiful swan, and the same folks who had tried to kill the duckling by their cruel tongues now hurried to praise the beautiful swan, that had come to the home nest, at last, after its long, swift flight to other lands — "Like the swan flying back to the place Where the nest of the baby -bird lay ; And its fellows had little of grace For the poor little thing dressed in gray. Where it dreamed lying hid all alone In the bushes that no one might see, And strange among birds made its moan And sighed like its fellows to be. They knew not its lineage nor recked they That the dreaming had truth and gave might, And soon o'er the sky 'twould be winging its way In the luminous, musical swan flight. TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. 51 That wide o'y the land in its flight it should go And wider by far should fly its renown, Till all the round world the dear name should know And honor come back to the old native town. That deep in all hearts its memory should chime In the great and the small holding sway, Since always in memory it kept close the time When it too, was little and gray " NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE, Born July 4, 1S04; Died 1864. CHldren, as well as grown folks, like to read books that are written in simple, direct language, and this is the charm of Hawthorne's story-books. The old Greek stories are told over again in plain, short English words, and they are so well told that they seem like new and beautiful fairy stories. "The Wonder Book" is indeed one of the best fairy books ever written for children. Hawthorne's own children knew nearly every one of the stories by heart before the book was printed, and one of them, his boy Julian, who is now a man, and himself a writer, says that they still linger in his memory. The writing of this book gave Hawthorne great enjoyment, as every page of it is bright and cheery, while some of his books written before this had seemed rather gloomy. If there are any children living today who have not yet read "The Wonder Book" they have a rich treasure to enjoy. "The Golden Touch ,^' "The Pomegranate Seeds," "The Pyg- mies" are some of the stories. (52) Nathaniel Hawthorne. 54 TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. "Tanglewood Tales" is another collection of his Greek fairy tales, full of sunshine, and like Kingsley's "Greek Heroes," the legends are full of beautiful goddesses and brave, daring heroes. The tales give us glimpses of a fairy-land which was very real to the old Grecians. Children who love Hawthorne's "Tales from a Grandfather's Chair" will be interested to learn that at one time when he was visiting one of his relatives in the "House of the Seven Gables," which was the name of one of his books, he happened to say that he was wondering what to write about next. His friend pointed to an old arm-chair that had been long in the family, and said, "Why don't you write about this old chair? There must be many stories connected with it." Hawthorne thought this a good idea and in 1841 published "The Tales from a Grandfather's Chair." Hawthorne, himself, was as handsome as a Greek. He was five feet ten inches in height and broad-shouldered. In the letters written about him to his son, we find many glowing descriptions of his appearance. It is told of him that while he was in college an old gypsy woman met him suddenly in a path in the woods and she was so struck by his noble looks ,she cried out "Are you a man or an angel?" While he TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. 55 was in London he was often compared to Robert Burns. One writer says, "His limbs were beautifully formed and the moulding of bis neck and throat was as fine as anything in antique sculpture. His hair, which had a long curving wave in it, approached blackness, his head was large and grandly developed, his complexion delicate and transparent, rather dark than light, with a ruddy tinge in the cheeks. His large dark blue eyes were brilliant and full of expression." Such is the picture we have of Hawthorne, and this handsome boy used to walk through the streets of old Salem town in Massachusetts, dreaming and wondering what he should do with his life. While in a school away from home he wrote to his mother "I have not yet concluded what profession I shall have. The being a minis- ter is perhaps out of the question, I should not think that even you could desire me to choose so dull a way of life. Oh, no, mother, I was not born to vegetate forever in one place, and to live and die as tran- quil as — a puddle of water. As to lawyers, there are so many of them already that one half of them are in a state of actual starvation. A physician, then, seems to be 'Hobson's choice,' but yet I should not like to live by the diseases 56 TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. and infirmities of my fellow creatures — Oh that I was rich enough to live without a profession! What do you think of my becoming an author and relying for support upon my pen? How proud you would feel to see my works praised HAWTHORNK S HOME— OLD MANSE. by the reviewers as equal to the proudest pro- ductions of the scribbling sons of John Bull." So the boy had visions of the future, feeling the power growing within him, that would place him in the line of great authors, great for all time, TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. 0( although he said when dreaming of authorship, "But authors are always poor devils, and Satan may take them." The story of his life written by his son Julian shows that Hawthorne had much more than a "poor devil" existence. His life in Salem, first as a boy, then with a beautiful wife and children, is almost ideal in its peace and happiness. Here in the quiet of the "Old Manse" he wrote "The Scarlet Letter," "House of the Seven Gables" and many other stories. There is an old house on Herbert Street in Salem where he lived when a boy, with his grandmother, and there is an upper room, preserved as it used to be, where he wrote "Twice Told Tales." He wrote in 1840 of this room: "Here I sit in my old accustomed chamber, where I used to sit in days gone by. Here I have written many tales, and much of my lonely youth was wasted here." He lived twice in this house, in later years, and it was, more than any other, his real home. It is only a short walk from this house to the cus- tom-house which he describes so well in "The Scarlet Letter," and where his ofiice was, when he was Surveyor of the Port of Salem. His wife used to wish for more time, for this "Heaven- gifted seer" as she called him, while he worked 58 TALES ABOUT AUTHORS. in the custom-liouse, more time for him to write. The day on which he was discharged on account of a misunderstanding, coming home earlier than usual, she expressed her pleasure. "But," he answered "I have left my head behind me." The old Salem Custom House, which plays so large a part in "The Scarlet lyetter," and which was Nathaniel Hawthorne's Headquarters during his Term of Office as Surveyor of the Port of Salem, 1846 to ls4y. "Oh then,'' she exclaimed "You can write your book." This was a comfort, but Hawthorne wondered how they would live while he was writing it. His wife was equal to the emergency, however, for she had been saving from his salary TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. 59 each week, and had quite a large pile of gold in her desk. She showed him this unexpected treasure, and was delighted at his surprise. He began at once to write "The Scarlet Letter." This story is a sad one, and hardly understood The Desk at which Nathaniel Hawthorne sat as Surveyor of the Port of Salem. Now preserved at the Essex Institute. by very young people. The part of his life spent in Italy touched his sensitive spirit as with fire, and inspired by the beauty of Italian life and art he wrote "The Marble Faun" and "The Italian Note Books," also a record of the life in Italy. 60 TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. He was restless about staying in one place very long, and his son says that when he was in England he longed for Paris and Italy, and at home in America he longed for England. While living in their beautiful* home in Con- cord, the Wayside, he completed the "Tangle- HAWTHORNE'S home — THE WAYSIDE. wood Tales'' and wrote ''The Life of Pierce," his college friend who became President of the United States. Hawthorne's wife, in writing of one of their walks near Walden Pond where Thoreau had his little hut, says, "All that ground TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. 61 is consecrated to me by unspeakable happiness." We went up the bare hill opposite the Old Manse and I descended on the other side so I could look up the avenue and see our first home. We returned through Sleepy Hollow and walked along a stately broad path which we used to say should be the chariot-road to our castle, which we would build on the hill to which it leads." Julian Hawthorne, in writing of this letter of his mother's, says, "The hill in Sleepy Hollow on which 'our castle' was to stand is now the site of Hawthorne's grave; and the 'chariot-road' was the path up which his funeral procession mounted." He died suddenly at Plymouth, Mass., in 1864, and his body rests in the quiet cemetery of Sleepy Hollow, in Concord, near the shining mountain rock which marks the grave of Emerson. Visitors to Sleepy Hollow find many other great names on the simple headstones marking the graves of Hawthorne's friends, America's great poets, preachers and writers. Julian Hawthorne, the son of Nathaniel Haw- thorne, is one of the well known writers of mod- ern romance, and of the better style of newspaper articles. His daughters also inherited his bril- liant qualities and have helped to make the world brighter and better. LOUIS AGASSIZ. THE SWISS BOY. Born May 2S, 1H07; Died 1873. In a little village called Motier, among the foothills of the -g^^^" Alps, there lived a minister named Agassiz, with his wife, Rose, and their two little boys, Louis and Auguste. Louis and his brother didn't go to school until they were quite large boys, but their father and mother taught them many things at home. Louis learned more from Mother Nature than he did from his books, roaming the fields, catching in- sects, and watching all kinds of animal life. He had many pets, birds, mice, rabbits, and every kind of animal he could catch, but his special interest seemed to be in fishes. He watched the little nooks and corners where the fishes lived, and where their homes were. In the yard of his home a stone basin had been built to hold the waters of a spring. The boy kept his fishes in this basin and watched their doings very carefully, until, he knew the habits of each fish. He soon developed the won- (62) Louis agassiz. 64 TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. derful powers of observation, whicli afterward helped him more than all his books and teachers. In those days it was the custom in Switzerland to get all necessary work done by traveling men, instead of depending on stores and shops. Tailors would go from house to house, making clothes; car- penters, shoemakers, and other mechanics would go around the country in the same way. Many of these travelers stopped each year at the little house where the Agassiz family lived, and the boy watched them carefully while they worked, and he often astonished the family by making something just after they left. In this way, he made a pair of shoes for his sister's doll, after a visit from the cobbler, and a water-tight barrel, after watching the cooper make one for his father. All his playmates seemed to know that this boy, who could tell them so much about insects, fishes and wild-flowers, was different from other boys, and he was always glad to answer their questions and show them his pets. His mother was a noble woman and influenced his life for the highest good. Two of her little boys had died, so she kept Louis and his brother very near her until they were ten years old. Their father saved all the money he could spare TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. 65 SO that the boys could have a good education, and they were sent to the college at Bienne when they were still only boys of twelve or thirteen years. The college was twenty miles from their home, but the boys thought nothing of walking this distance when the folks at home had their grape-picking, which was a gay festival time in the Swiss valleys. The other holidays also found the boj^s at home, for what were twenty miles to two such strong, hearty boys as Louis and Auguste Agassiz? Louis kept right on with his collection, and added many curious and interesting objects to it. During his school-days he and his brother began to get a library together. They had very little money and, as some of the books they wanted were very costly, they copied entire books, writ- ing patiently everyday after school until they had quite a large library of rare and valuable books. While he was in the last years of his college life, Louis determined that his life work should be natural history, and his spare time after this decision was spent in hunting curious insects from the bark of trees, fishing in the streams and ponds for different varieties of fish, and studying the transformation of cocoons into but- terflies. 66 TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. Although his teachers considered him a re- markable student and talked of his great knowl- edge of natural history, his father and mother still wanted him to go into business. Louis told his uncle, a doctor, how he hated the very thought of a business life, and that he wanted to study to be a doctor, so he could learn all about anatomy and understand the bony structure of animals and fishes. His uncle finally persuaded his father and mother to let him go to the medi- cal college at Zurich. Here he attracted atten- tion, not only by his great knowledge, but also by his physical appearance. His fine head, large, bright eyes, broad, high forehead and strong, sturdy limbs made everyone feel that he was destined to be one of the truly great men of the world. While he was at Zurich, a gentleman passed him one day in a carriage, and, noticing the fine- looking young man, he called him and began talking to him about his plans for the future. Agassiz talked to him in such a frank, pleasing manner, the man was much impressed by his fine intellect, and a few days later Louis' father received a letter from the stranger, who was a very wealthy gentleman from Geneva, asking that he might adopt his son, and said that he TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. 67 would go to the greatest expense to educate him. This was, of course, a tempting offer to the poor minister, but, after careful thought, Louis agreed with his parents that they could never break any of the loving ties that bound them to each other, and they declined the offer of the rich man. Agassiz was more than a scientist, he knew French and German so well he could think in one language while speaking the other. He also read Greek and Latin, and could speak English and Italian. After he graduated as a physician at Zurich, and later at Heidelberg, his parents thought, of course, that he would settle down in a country town to practice medicine, but this he could not do. He longed to travel, to find rare specimens, and to write books about his beloved animals. When his wonderful book, ''Brazilian Fishes," was published, his parents began to realize the true genius of their boy, and they were very proud of him. The father, when sending con- gratulations to him about his book, wrote, "The old father who waits for you at home with open arms, sends the most tender greeting." Then happened the best thing in all his life, best for the people of America, anyway. Prince Charles Bonaparte, one of his great 68 TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. friends, urged him to visit this country, saying that it would make an epoch in science if he would come here and study the animal life of our land. After much urging from his friends, Agassiz decided to visit the United States. All the great men, especially the scientists, were astonished at his great knowledge. He was made a Pro- fessor in Harvard College, a visiting lecturer at Cornell University, and he was honored by great men all over the country. He wrote many books — some in French and German, others in English, In the preface of one of his most important books, "Contributions to the Natural History of America," he wrote in the edition that was sent to Europe, "This book was written mostly for Americans, and I expect it to be read by many others beside scientists. I have written it, know- ing that in this country it will be read by farm- ers, fishermen, and others in all walks of life." Agassiz and his wife made a trip to Brazil for collections of specimens, and together they wrote a most interesting book about their travels, called "A Visit to Brazil," by Louis and Elizabeth Agassiz. On his fiftieth birthday a dinner was given to Agassiz in Boston, by such distinguished men TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. 69 as Holmes, Longfellow and Hawthorne. Long- fellow recited a beautiful poem he had written for the occasion, and this is a part of it: It was fifty years ago In the pleasant month of May In the beantiful Pays de Vaud A child in its cradle lay. Nature, the old nurse, took The child upon her knee Saying, "Here is a story-book Thy Father hath written for thee." "Come wander with me," she said, "Into regions yet untrod, And read what is still unread In the manuscripts of God." And he wandered away and away With Nature, the dear old Nurse, Who sang to him night and day The songs of the Universe. And whenever the way seemed long Or his heart began to fail She would sing a more wonderful song Or tell a more wonderful tale. So she keeps him still a child And will not let him go; Though at times his heart beats wild For the beautiful Pays de Vaud. And the mother at home says "Hark! For his voice I listen and yearn; It is growing late and dark And my boy does not return." 70 TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. Perhaps the most valuable work of Agassiz's life, beside his books, was the founding at Cam- bridge of one of the largest Natural History Museums in the world. If you ever visit Boston you must be sure to take a ride in the electric car to Cambridge, where Harvard College is, and spend all the time you can in the great Agassiz Museum. You will want to stay a week to examine the many and curious specimens of all sorts and kinds of animals, birds, fishes, reptiles and insects. It would take years to see them all and study them carefully. Great numbers of these specimens were col- lected by Agassiz himself, although he never lost an opportunity to get others to collect specimens for him. He would send the copper jars of the museum, filled with alcohol, on vessels going to different countries, asking the captains to bring them back filled with fish and all kinds of sea and fresh water animals. In this way, by earn- est and persistent effort, the great museum was filled and it is now an enduring monument to the Swiss boy, who became one of the greatest scientists the world ever knew. HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. Born February 27, ISO"; Died 1882. Nearly all the American poets were born in New England, and lived near Boston, but Long- fellow did not move to this famous city of great writers until he was a young man. He was born in the town of Portland, Maine, and graduated at Bowdoin College, at Brunswick. Portland was a lively town, even in the old times, when Longfellow was a boy. It is a sea- port, and there used to be a great trade from there with the West India Islands. Brigs would carry out cargoes of lumber and dried fish and bring back rum, molasses and sugar. When a ship load of molasses came into Casco Bay the whole town of Portland would be in an uproar. The colored stevedores would sing as they hoisted the heavy hogsheads of molasses from the hold of the ship. Maine has always been noted for its trade in lumber, and although more lumber is sold there today, there was more noise and bustle about the business in the old days. Portland had many potteries, and a rope-walk, which was a long, low shed where they made ropes. Spin- (Tl) HENRY W. LONGFEI,IfGFEI.IvO\V'S BIRTHPI^ACE. "All these scenes do I behold, These, and many left untold. In that building long and low; While the wheels go round and round With a drowsy, dreamy sound. And the spinners backward go," TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. 75 Longfellow also wrote a beautiful poem about the potteries in his old home-town called "Ker- amos"- "Turn, turn, my wheel! Turn round and round Without a pause, without a sound; So spins the flying world away. This clay, well mixed with marl and sand, Follows the motion of my hand, For some must follow, and some command. Though all are made of clay." When Longfellow was about seventeen years old, General Lafayette visited Portland, and the Governor gave a ball in his honor. A ter- rible storm came up and many of the guests had to stay at home, as there were onl}^ a few carriages in the whole place. There were not many amusements in those days, as for a long time dancing had been prohibited by law, and all kinds of theatrical performances had been voted against in the town meeting, where all such questions were decided. A theatre was at last built in 1830 as an experiment, but it was soon turned into a church. When the people of Portland wanted to go to Boston, they had to travel by stage, and it took them two days by the accommodation coach. The mail coach took them a little faster, but 76 TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. made their bones ache with the jolting they re- ceived. They had two weekly papers, but no daily news, except the old town-crier, who went around crying the news if anything unusual happened. Not much has been written about the boyhood of Longfellow in the old town, but glimpses are given of his boy-life in a chapter called "Early Days in the Home," in a book about his life by his brother, Samuel Longfellow. He says, " Henry is remembered by others as a lively boy — kind-hearted and affectionate — the sunlight of the house — true, highminded and noble." * '^ With all his liveliness, he hated loud noises, and it was a family tradition that he begged his nurse to put cotton in his ears on the Fourth of July." In the home there were plenty of books and music. His father, who was a lawyer, had a well-selected library, and Longfellow loved to read the poems of Milton and many others. He sometimes used to get permission from his father to go down town in the evening to a Mr. John- son's book-store to look over the new books that had been received from Boston. Here, too, he listened to men talking about books. Longfel- low has written about a book that came into his TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. 77 life while he was a boy. His brother quotes it in his story of the poet's life: ''Every reader has his first book. I mean to say, one book among all others which in early youth first fascinates his imagination and at once excites and satisfies the desires of his mind. To me this first book was the ' Sketch Book of Washington Irving.' I was a schoolboy when it was published, and read each succeeding num- ber with ever increasing wonder and delight. "How many delightful books the same author has given us. =;= =^ * * =^ Yet, still the charm of the Sketch Book remains unbroken; the old fascination remains about it; and, when- ever I open its pages, I open also that mys- terious door which leads back into the haunted chambers of youth." The Longfellow children were taught to sing. The most popular songs at that time were " The Battle of Prague," " Washington's March," "Oft in the Stilly Night," " The Last Rose of Sum- mer," and others whose titles are not so familiar to us. They were also taught to dance to the tunes of " Money IMusk," " The Fisher's Horn- Pipe," and " The Hay-Makers." The evenings were spent round the table studying their les- sons, and often playing games in the large old 78 TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. kitchen, where there was a broad open fire-place with a hanging-crane. They stayed np as late as they conld, for it was hard to go up stairs to the cold bed-rooms. In the morning they crept out of their soft, warm feather beds, and broke the ice in the pitchers to wash their faces. Henry Longfellow, with this simple, healthy boy-life, became strong and rugged. He was sent to school when only three years old. A colored man who worked for his father carried him in front of him on horseback. When he was five years old they sent him to a public school quite near his home, but he came home one day very angry, saying the teacher had accused him of tell- ing a lie, so he was allowed to leave that school. At ten he was doing well in Latin and his other studies and began to prepare for college. In these days boys went to school very young, and Henry Longfellow was only fourteen years old when he entered Bowdoin College in Brunswick, Maine. When he was only thirteen he published his first poem in the " Gazette." It was called *' The Battle of Loveli's Pond." It recorded a battle between Lovell and the Indians, which took place near Hiram, where his grandfather lived. The few men who escaped had run down the road to Ossipee, past the old homestead. The poem was TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. 79 dropped into the letter box at the printing office, and the night before the paper was printed he went down to the office again and looked in the windows, shivering in the cold but not daring to go in. No one but his sister knew the secret, and they were both much excited when the paper ,. i mL I''* ■ ■-- . BOWDOIN COLLEGE. came next morning. They had to wait while their father slowly read the paper, and they eagerly looked it over when their turn came and found the poem was there, signed " Henry." From the success of this experiment he was encouraged to keep on writing, and soon papers 80 TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. and magazines were glad to get his poems as he wrote year after year in his school and college days. His vacations were spent at his grand- father's home near Portland, and the farm-life was delightful to the boy who loved all nature. He followed the mowers, picked berries, went after the cows at night, helped the girls in the dairy to churn, and in the fall he enjoyed the corn-husking frolics and the spinning and quilting bees. He sometimes went with his grandfather Longfellow on a long ride to visit his grandfather Wadsworth, who lived on an estate of seven thousand acres. This old man had been an Adjutant-General in the Revolu- tionary War, and the children looked up to him with awe. He wore a cocked hat, and buckles on his shoes ; his hair was powdered and tied behind in a cue. He told the children thrilling stories of the war, of his capture by the British, who put him in a prison at Fort George, where he had a remarkable escape. A poem called "My Lost Youth" expresses very beautifully Longfellow's memories of the town of Portland and his boyish fancies and feelings: Often I think of the beautiful town That is seated by the sea, TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. 81 Often in thought go up and down The pleasant streets of that dear old town, And my youth comes back to me, And a verse of a I^apland song Is haunting my memory still, "A boy's will is the wind's will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts. " I remember the black wharves and the slips, And the sea-tides tossing free; And Spanish sailors with bearded lips, And the beauty and mystery of the ships. And the magic of the sea. And the voice of that way-ward song, "A boy's will is the wind's will And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts." I remember the sea-fight far away. How it thundered o'er the tide. And the dead captains as they lay In their graves o'erlooking the tranquil bay, And the music of that old song Throbs in my memory still. %s^ nj^ ^^ *^ ^j^ «^ ki^ *j» *j* >^ ^f* *r» ^* ^^ And Deering's woods are fresh and fair, And with joy that is almost pain M}^ heart goes back to wander there. And among the dreams of the days that were I find m)' lost youth again. And the strange and beautiful song The groves are repeating it still, "A boy's will is the wind's will And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts." 82 TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. Henry Longfellow became one of the great poets of the world while still a young man. Bvangeline, Hiawatha, and many other poems have been translated into other languages. He traveled in Europe, and wrote both prose and CRAIGIE HOUSE. poetry about the scenes in other lands. He was made Professor of Modern Languages in Har- vard College, after serving as Professor in his own college. All the honors he received made him happy, but never selfish or unfriendly. His love for children is shown in his poems TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. S3 and told of in many ways by his friends. In one of his poems called ''Children," he writes : "Come to me, O ye children! And whisper in my ear What the birds and the winds are singing, In your sunny atmosphere. For what are all our contrivings. And the wisdom of our books. When compared with your caresses And the gladness of your looks. Ye are better than all the ballads That ever were sung or said: For ye are living poems, And all the rest are dead." "The Children's Hour" is a beautiful poem written about his own little girls — Alice, Allegra and Edith — but he meant it for all children : "I have you fast in my fortress, And will not let you depart. But put you down in the dungeon, In the round tower of my heart." Perhaps the sweetest one of all is called "Weari- ness," where he speaks of the little feet that have such a long, weary way to travel, the little hands that have so much to do in the world, and the eager little hearts and pure souls of childhood. He always felt a deep interest in the affairs of the city of Cambridge, where he lived. At one 84 TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. time, lie pleaded with tlie city officers to spare "The spreading chestnut tree" that grew in front of the smithy, which he describes in his "Village Blacksmith," but the tree had to be cut down to widen Brattle Street. Then, to make the poet feel happier about it, the public school children subscribed a fund, with which to have a handsome chair made out of the wood of the tree. It was given to him on his seventy-second birth- day. He was very much pleased, and wrote a poem about it for the children, which begins "Am I a king that I should call my own This splendid ebon throne; Or by what reason, or what right divine, Can I proclaim it mine?" He was a good friend to the poor and friend- less, helping many young authors to get their stories and poems published. He was always pleasant and patient with the many strangers who visited him. Tike Whit- tier, he felt very indignant over the wrongs of the slaves, and early in his life he wrote stirring poems about the bitter injustice of buying and selling human beings. Some of his friends believed in slavery, but many others were glad to read his earnest, burn- ing words. Charles Dickens wrote from England : TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS, 85 "Heaven speed your slavery poems, I am looking for them eagerly." Longfellow's poems on Slavery were written in 1842, while on the ocean, returning from Europe. "The Slave's Dream," "The Quadroon HiSia', ?|Ui**'*a*a«i'- LONGFEIyI,0\V's CHAIR. Girl" and "The Witnesses" are the names of some of the slave poems. The last verse of "The Warning" shows the power and force of his pleadings : "There is a poor blind Samson in this land, Shorn of his strength, and bound in bonds of steel, 86 TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. Who may, in some grim revel, raise his hand And shake the pillars of this common weal Till the vast temple of our liberties A shapeless mass of wreck and rubbish lies. ' ' From these glimpses of Longfellow's life and work we know that he truly felt "Life is real, life is earnest," and his own life was planned as the structure he writes of in "The Builders:" "All are architects of Fate Working in these walls of Time, Some with massive deeds and great, Some with ornaments of rhyme. Nothing useless is, or low, Each thing in its place is best, And what seems but idle show Strengthens and supports the rest. For the structure that we raise. Time is with materials filled; Our to-days and yesterdays Are the blocks with which we build. In the elder days of Art, Builders wrought with greatest care Each minute and unseen part, For the Gods see everywhere. lyCt us do our work as well. Both the unseen and the seen. Make the house where Gods may dwell. Beautiful, entire and clean." TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. 87 JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER. THE QUAKER BOY. Born December 17, 1S07; Died 1892. All who look at the picture of the good Quaker poet are apt to think of him as a very solemn, quiet man, but those who knew him best tell of WHITTIER. his love of fun and his interest in young folks. When he was a boy he worked on his father's farm, which was about three miles from the town of Haverhill, Massachusetts. As he merrily trudged up the lane from the fields, or hoed the 88 TALKS ABOUT AtTTHORS. corn, or drove the cows, he must have looked like his own description of "The Barefoot Boy." Every child who can read is familiar with this beautiful poem: "Blessings on thee, little man, Barefoot boy, with cheek of tan, With thy turned up pantaloons And thy merry whistled tunes, ;ic H( 4^ 4^ H< From my heart I give thee joy, I was once a barefoot boy. ' ' John was a happy boy in his quiet country home which he has described in his poem called "Snow Bound." His mother told the children Indian stores as she sat at her spinning wheel, and stories of her childhood. She was a very kind-hearted woman and the Whittier home was seldom without visitors. The Quakers or Friends did not live close together, so the leaders, the travelling ministers, often stopped with the Whittier's. Sometimes there would be ten or twelve strangers in the house at one time to stay over night, and at such times some of them had to sleep in the large barn. Mrs. Whittier would give food to strangers who came to her door, and often a night's lodging. One night she was frightened by a man with a dark skin and piercing black eyes, who asked TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. 89 her to give him a place to sleep. For once she refused and turned from the door very hastily, but after she had thought about it a moment she jjiYifiiiifr^^ WHITTIER'S BIRTH-PLACE. said, "I am sorry I told him to go; how would I feel if my son was traveling in a strange country and he should suffer for a place to rest at night." When she told John about it, he offered to run 90 TAtKS ABOUT AUTHORS. after the man and bring him back. She eagerly assented, and the boy ran over the fields to the next farm-house and found the stranger who had just been turned from the door. When the boy came up to him he was standing in a very dis- couraged manner, not knowing where to go, and he was very grateful and glad to go back to the comfortable farm house. He was a rather fierce- looking Italian, but very social, and when they gathered round the hearth in the evening he told them in broken words and with many gest- ures, stories about his own sunny Italy. He told the mother a good way to make bread from chestnuts, and the children all about the grape- pickings and festivals of his country. In the morning when he said good-bye with many warm words, they wondered why they had been so afraid of him the night before. One day an old Scotchman visited the house and from him Whittier gained his first knowledge of Burns' poetry. After eating some bread and cheese, and drinking a mug of cider, the old Scotchman began to sing "Bonnie Doon" and "Highland Mary." The boy listened with de- light to the full rich tones, and the Scotch words pleased his poetic nature. He remembered this music for a long time and was very glad when TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. 91 his old school-teacher brought a book of Burns' poems to the house when he was about four- THE BAREFOOT BOY. teen years old. Begging the teacher to leave the book there for a while, he set to work to. 92 TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. study out the meaning of the Scotch words. This was almost the first real poetry he had ever read and it inspired him to write out his own thoughts. He had scribbled verses on his slate instead of doing his school work when he was only a little boy, and he kept on thinking poems as he worked on the farm with very little chance to write them. As he hoed the furrows in the field he would sometimes lean on his hoe forget- ting his work and everything around him, his mind fully absorbed in his fancies and poetic dreams. Then his father would call out "That's enough now, John." He was absorbing all the beautiful sights and sounds about him, but he was restless, feeling that there was something in him that ought to find expression. It must have been a great treat to him when twice a year they had a visit from old Jonathan Plummer. He made verses, was a doctor, and a parson, and sold pins, needles, cotton, knives, razors, etc. He also sold his own verses, illus- trated with wood-cuts, which the children prized very much. He was independent and very religious, and liked to talk about the scripture to the older folks. He never trusted any one, and when they sat down to dinner he would draw his basket TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. 93 close to his legs under the table. The father would say, "Never mind thy basket, Jonathan, we shan't steal thy verses." The old Yankee would answer, "I am not sure of that; it is written, trust ye not in a brother." He was the last minstrel of the Merrimac valley. When Whittier was a lad of nineteen, he sent a poem to a paper called "The Free Press" pub- lished by a young man in Newburyport, named William Lloyd Garrison. It so pleased the young editor that he drove out to the farm to see the writer. Whittier was out in the field hoeing, when the carriage drove up and the editor in- quired for John Greenleaf Whittier. The lad was astonished and ran into the house by the back door to make himself presentable. The editor told him that he discovered signs of un- usual talent in his work, and urged him to take some course of study as a training for a literary future. Up to this time the boy's opportunities for education had been very limited, as the father had very little money. The father was called in, and they talked the matter over seriously. John, himself, thought of a way to accomplish a higher education by engaging a young man who knew how to make shoes to teach him the trade. He learned to make shoes in one winter, and by hard 94 TAI^KS ABOUT AUTHORS. work earned enougli money to pay for six months' board and tuition in Haverhill Academy. He was in his twentieth year at this time, and by his talents soon became a great favorite at the school. He wrote a poem for the dedication of the new school building, which was published, and received much praise. From this time he was considered a true poet. When he was about twenty-one he made his first visit to Boston, \vhich was a great event in his life. He had a new suit with what he called "boughten buttons." Before this time he had worn home-made buttons. He felt very proud and often laughed at himself afterward, when he thought of how he stood on the crowded streets of Boston, and wondered if anyone noticed his buttons. After his term of study at the Academy he edited a home paper and the Hartford " New England Review," while he still lived at home and helped his parents. He worked hard during all the time of his youth, always writing poems in his spare time, and finally succeeded in getting a volume published. He soon became known to all the writers and thinkers of Boston and of all New England. Emerson, Lowell, Elizabeth Stuart Phelps, Har- riet Beecher Stowe, Hawthorne and many others were numbered among his truest friends. TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. 95 Early in life he began to take a deep interest in politics, and when William Lloyd Garrison, his first publisher, came out in his fiery denun- ciation of slavery, Whittier's whole soul warmed with a hearty response to his appeals. All his dreams of literary fame faded away in the thought of the great duty that had come to him — "Never yet to Hebrew seer A clearer voice of dutj^ came." He said: " My soul spoke out against the wrong." "Forego thy dreams of lettered ease, Put thou the scholar's promise by, The rights of man are more than these. He heard and answered, 'Here am I.' Beyond the poet's sweet dream lives The eternal epic of the man. " While other poets traveled in foreign lands and studied in their libraries, Whittier gave the best years of his life to earnest work for freeing the slaves, served in the JMassachusetts Legisla- ture, and stood by Garrison, who sent forth his paper called "The Liberator" from a garret room in Boston. With a friend named Isaac Knapp, and a negro boy to help them, they did all the work on the paper. For his work for liberty. Garrison was mobbed and dragged through the 96 TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. city, bareheaded, with his clothes torn, and Whitcier himself was in furious mobs of angry- people at abolitionists' meetings. All these ex- periences roused the warlike spirit that must have been bom in him, in spite of his Quaker training. Whittier wrote of this feeling: "With- out intending any disparagement of my peaceable' ancestry for many generations, I have still strong suspicions that somewhat of the old Norman blood has been bequeathed to me. How else can I account for the intense childish eagerness with which I listened to the stories of old campaigners who fought their battles over again in my hear- ing? Why did I, in my young fancy, go up with Jonathan to smite the Philistines? Why was Mr. Greatheart in 'Pilgrim's Progress' my favor- ite character? Why did I follow Ossian over Morven's battle-field? I can account for it only on the suppositionthat the mischief was inherited — an heirloom from the old sea-kings of the ninth century.'' The Quakers did not believe in fighting, but Whittier inspired men to fight for the liberty of the slaves by his war-songs. As early as 1834 he wrote these thrilling verses : " What, ho ! our countrymen in chains! The whip on woman's shrinking flesh! TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS, 97, Our soil yet reddening with stains Caught from her scourging warm and fresh! What! God's own image bought and sold! Americans to market driven, And bartered as the brute for gold! " Speak! Shall their agony of prayer Come thrilling to our hearts in vain ? To us whose fathers scorned to hear The paltry menace of a chain, To us whose boast is loud and long Of holy liberty and light, Say ! Shall these writhing slaves of Wrong Plead vainly for their plundered Right ? " Up, then, in Freedom's manly part, From gray-beard old to fiery youth, And on the nation's naked heart Scatter the living coals of Truth. Up! while ye slumber deeper yet The shadow of our fame is growing. Up! while ye pause our sun may set In blood around our altars flowing." With poems like this he roused men and women to realize the terrible curse of slavery. Long years after, when the war was over and the slaves were free, he looked back on these years of sacrifice and felt thankful that he had been able to help along the cause of freedom by his pen. His friend, another great poet, James Russell Lowell, said that Whittier's poems were 98 TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. (( O Sweetly familiar to all England's ear." Jolin Bright, the Englishman, used to repeat page after page of his poems and said, " I would rather see Whittier than any man in your country. If I go to America I shall see him first." WHITTIER'S HOME. — AMESBURY, MASS. He received tributes from other great men of England and other countries, but he was always the same plain old Quaker, living quietly in his country home. As his old friends passed away TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. 99 he clung closely to those who were left. Writing of Emerson's death he said : "And now Emerson has passed on ! How the great and good are leaving us. There is nothing now for us but to love God, and good men and one another more." One perfect summer's morning he slipped quietly awa}^ from this life. His last words were, " My love to the world." There was no church large enough to hold the friends who gathered to honor his memory, so in his own garden, under the trees he loved, thousands passed to look for the last time on his gentle face. And in the deep silence a dear Quaker friend repeated one of his last songs: "No gate of pearl, no branch of palm I merit, Nor street of shining gold, ^K ^j^ ^1^ ^Y^ ^^ ^1^ Some humble door among thy many mansions, Some sheltering shade where sin and striving cease, And flows forever through heaven's green expansions The river of thy peace. There from the music round about me stealing I fain would learn the new and holy song, And find at last, beneath thy trees of healing The life for which I long." CHARLES DICKENS. CHARLES DICKENS, AND SOME OF HIS CHILDREN. Boru, February 7, 1812; Died 1S70. Three Stories from Dickens. DAVID COPPERFlEIvD. Many children who like to read "David Copper- field" do not known that it is almost the true story of Dickens' own life. His boyhood was just as full of care and sorrow as David's, and while we find most of it told in the one book, different scenes of his life are found in his other books. In the story of "Little Dorritt" we read much about the Marshalsea Prison and Little Dorritt's life there. This too, is a picture from the memory of his own childhood, for he often visited his father in the same old Marshalsea when he was confined there because he couldn't pay his debts. What a hard time Dickens had we will learn about in David's story. The very beginning of David Copperfield's life was not like that of Charles Dickens, but his after life was much like the story. David's father died when he was just a baby, and his mother, a pretty, weak little woman, married a cross man named Mr. Murdstone. He did not like children at all, and (101) 102 TAI,KS ABOUT AUTHORS. poor David had a hard time. Mr. Murdstone took him away from his mother and his kind old nurse Peggotty, to a school near London. It was not a good school with kind teachers such as boys have today. David's teacher, Mr. Creakle, used to raise great red ridges on the poor backs of the little boys by caning them two or three times a day, and a boy cannot be very happy or learn much when he is in constant fear of a whipping. When he went home for the holidays, he spent a few happy weeks with his mother, but a cloud seemed to be hanging over the little home. His step-father, Mr. Murdstone, did not love him, and his mother was afraid and sad all the time, and soon after the holidays, after his return to old Creakle's school, she died. This was a terrible sor- row for David and changed his whole life. His step-father put him in a counting house in Lon- don. At this time he was only ten years old, motherless and forlorn. He worked in a corner of the dark old warehouse pasting labels on bot- tles. After the shop was closed, little as he was, David had to buy his own meals at a Pudding Shop. Dickens says of himself about this time of his life: "What the waiter thought of such a strange little apparition coming in all alone I TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. 103 don't know, but I can see liim now staring at me as I ate my dinner.'' David felt so lonely, so de- serted, tliat many times lie would creep off into a corner, by himself, and cry for his dear mother. One day, as he thought over his trials, he de- termined to run away, for he couldn't possibly stand his loneliness any longer. But where could he go? His old nurse Peggotty was married and she would be glad to have him come to her, but she lived so far away. Then he remembered that he had heard his mother speak of an old aunt of hers named Betsey Trotwood, so he wrote to Peggotty to find out where his aunt lived. He told her that he needed some money, and the good old nurse, never dreaming that the child was planning to run away, sent him more than he asked for. David got a boy to help him move his box to the coach-office, where he was to start on his journey. The bad boy stole his money and his box and left David standing in the road with only three half-pence in his pocket, but he had no idea of turn- ing back, even after such a sad fall from his bright hopes. He trudged along the road, sleeping in fence corners at night, sometimes walking twenty miles a day. He had to sell his little vest to 104 TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. get food, and many kind-hearted farmers' wives gave him milk to drink and an occasional meal. At last, after six days of weary tramping, he reached Dover, where he hoped to find his aunt. He says of his arrival at Dover: "When I came at last upon the bare, wide downs near Dover, it relieved the solitary aspect of the scene with hope, and not until I reached the first great aim of my journey and actually set foot in the town itself on the sixth day of ni}^ flight, did it desert me. But then, strange to say, when I stood with my ragged shoes and my dusty, sun- burnt, half-clothed figure in the place so long desired, hope seemed to vanish like a dream and to leave me helpless. My shirt and trousers stained with dew, heat, grass and the Kentish soil on which I had slept, might have frightened the birds from my aunt's garden as I stood at the gate. From head to foot I was powdered almost as white as chalk with dust, as if I'd come out of a lime-kiln. In this plight I waited to intro- duce myself to my aunt.'' While he \vas standing in front of his aunt's house, waiting to knock, the lady herself came rushing out of the house, waving her hands and shouting out, "Go away. No boys here! Go along.'' TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. 105 But poor David went slowly up to lier saying, ''If you please ma'am, if you please, aunt, I am David Copperfield.'' For a moment the old lady sat down, flat, in the garden path, staring at poor David in amaze- ment, just having breath enough left to say, "Mercy on us!'' Then she dragged him into the house, pouring all sorts of medicine down his throat, as the poor boy, broken down by his long tramp, began to cry and sob. His aunt, after she recovered from her surprise, heard his story, and was filled with pity for the poor boy who had been turned out in the world. She took care of him after that, and was just like a good mother to him. We will leave his story here, but there is much more about his life in the large book called "David Copperfield." There are other children of Dickens' you would like to read about — "Oliver Twist," poor "Smike" in "Nicholas Nickleby," "Little Dorritt," and many others. By reading their stories you will learn what -a kind heart Charles Dickens had and how much he loved the poor people of Eng- land. The stories he wrote were the lives of the people he met in his daily life, and he wished to help every one who read them to learn to love each other more, 106 TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. DICKENS IN CAMP. BY BRET HARTE. Selected from "■Children of the Poets. '' "Above the pines the moon was slowly dimpling, The river sang below, The dim Sierras, from beyond uplifting Their minarets of snow. "The roaring camp-fire, with rude humour painted The ruddy tints of health On haggard face and form that drooped and fainted In the fierce race for wealth; "Till one arose and from his pack's scant treasure A hoarded volume drew. And cards were dropped from hands of listless leisure To hear the tale anew. "And then, while round them shadows gathered faster, And as the fire-light fell, He read aloud the book wherein the Master Had writ of "Uttle Nell." "The fir-trees, gathering closer in the shadows, Listened in everj' spray, Whilethe whole camp, with "Nell" on English meadows Wandered and lost their way. "And so in mountain solitudes — o'ertaken As by some spell divine — Their cares dropped from them like the needles shaken From out the gusty pine. "Eost is that camp, and wasted all its fire, And he who wrought that spell ? — Ah, towering pine and stately Kentish spire., Ye have one tale to tell. TALK.S ABOUT AUTHORS. 107 "And on that grave where English oak and holly And laurel wreaths entwine, Deem it not all a too presumptuous folly This spray of Western pine." "Little Nell" from "The Old Curiosity Shop." Little Nell lived with her grandfather in an old house where he kept a great many curious things to sell. The child was sweet and gentle, and her grandfather loved her so dearly that his great desire was to make more money so that some time she might be rich. It became almost a mania with him; but he fell into the hands of a wicked man, an ugly dwarf, named Quilp, who ruined him, even driving them out of their little home. Nell was glad to go, for she had such a dread of Quilp. She said to her grandfather, "Let us be gone from this place, and never turn back or think of it again. Let us wander bare- foot through the world rather than linger here." "We will," answered the old man. "We will travel afoot through the fields and woods, and by the side of rivers, and trust ourselves to God in the places where He dwells. It is far better to lie down at night beneath an open sky, than to rest in close rooms which are always full of care and weary dreams. Thou and I, together, Nell, 108 TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. may be cheerful and happy yet, and learn to forget this time as if it had never been." The child's heart beat high with hope and confidence. She had no thought of hunger, or cold, or thirst, or suffering. Sun and stream, and meadow and summer days shone brightly in her view, and there was no dark tint in all the sparkling picture. And so they wandered out into the world. Weary and foot-sore often as they stopped to rest at cottages by the road-side, and often getting rides in farm- wagons, as Nelly's beautiful face and gentle manner made everyone feel kindly toward her. The old grandfather was so broken down by his losses and trouble, he didn't realize how weak and tired the little girl felt many times, and she was always brave and loving, yielding to his wishes to go further on each day. Sometimes a traveling show would pass them on the way and brighten Nelly's life a little by their gay company, and she would help the peo- ple to mend their clothes. Always helpful, al- ways loving. Poor little Nell! After months of this weary life, they at last found a home with an old school-master, who had lost his dearest friend, a little boy, his favorite scholar. While his life was empty of love and TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. 109 joy, Nell and her grandfather came to his door, and he begged them to stay with him. Here they found peace and rest, but poor Nell was so worn out by their long tramps, she faded away each day, like a tender blossom, so quietly and gently, the two old men, the school-master and her grandfather, failed to notice it, and to them it was a terrible blow when the dear girl slept her little life away. All the sunshine went out of their home when they laid her in the little church-yard. One evening the old grandfather wandered out by himself, as if to look for the child, and they found him quietly sleeping on her grave. His life had gone out to join her spirit, and for him there was no more sorrow, for he had found his little Nell. "Some day, little ones, you'll be children no longer, But what you are now will ever be part Of what you shall be; and stronger and stronger The seed of the future still grows in each heart. Then fill your young lives full of sunshine and beauty, Think purely, speak kindly, act nobly each day, With glad, willing hearts do each little duty That, when childhood is gone, its sweetness may stay. ' ' "Do all the good you can, In all the ways you can, liO TAI^KS ABOUT AUTHORS. To all the people you can, In every place you can, At all the times you can, As long as ever you can." "Boys, do all the good you can, and don't make any fuss about it. ' ' — Charles Dickens. Little Pip, in "Great Expectations." Poor little Pip had. no father or mother, and was "brought up by hand," as his sister said. This sister was very cross to him, and he used to wander off by himself outside the lonely vil- lage where he lived. One bleak, dreary afternoon he was sitting in the old church-yard, looking at the tomb-stones. He felt so forlorn, and everything looked so gloomy that he began to cry, when, all at once, a fearful-looking man stood before him, and cried out, "Keep still, or I'll cut your throat !" Of course Pip was badly scared when he looked up and saw this man all covered with mud and with a rag tied around his head, and a great iron on his leg. "Tell us your name,'' said the man. "Pip, sir," whispered the boy. "Show us where you live." Pip pointed out the houses of the village almost a mile away. TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. Ill Then after asking him a number of questions and finding out that he lived with Joe Gargery, the blacksmith, the man ordered him to go home and bring him back a file and something to eat, telling him if he didn't come back he would kill him, sure. DICKENS' HOME. Pip ran home as fast as he could, Joe, his sister's husband, met him with the news that his sister had been out looking for him about a dozen times. "Yes, Pip, and what's worse she's got Tickler with her," said Joe. Tickler was a wax- ended piece of cane, worn smooth by constant contact with Pip's little frame. "Has she been 112 TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. gone long, Joe?" asked Pip. "Well, said Joe, I guess she's been on the rampage this last spell, about fifteen minutes, Pip. She's a-coming now, get behind the door, old chap, and have the Jack- towel betwixt you." "Where have you been, you young monkey?" cried Mrs. Joe, as she applied old Tickler very hard to Pip's legs. "I've only been to the churchyard," whimpered Pip, thinking it was pretty hard to get such a whipping after being so scared by that fearful man. That night, while Mrs. Joe cut the bread for supper, Pip was wondering how he could smuggle some of it in his pockets for the poor man down in the graveyard. While he was thinking of this he heard shots fired in the distance, and Joe told him they came from "The Hulks," a prison ship away across the marshes, and the shots were fired because one of the convicts had escaped. Then Pip knew that the man who had made him promise to get the file and the food, was an escaped prisoner. He went to bed and dreamed of terrible prisons, and that he was a thief him- self, until the grey morning came. Then he knew he must get up and take the food from the pantry before Mrs. Joe could stop him. He stole TAI,KS ABOUT AUTHORS. 113 out of the house very quietly with some bread and cheese, a pork pie and the file. Away down in the meadows, back of the grave- yard, he found the old convict, who seemed to be very thankful that Pip had kept his promise. He devoured his food like a hungry animal. Pip was afraid he would eat him, too, he seemed so wild. Before Pip left him he was filing away at the iron on his leg, swearing so hard that Pip ran home even faster than he had the night before. That day was Christmas day and Pip knew the pork pie would be missed at dinner time, for there was company invited to help eat it. Dinner time came and still Pip's visit to the convict had not been discovered. Mrs. Joe was praising her own good cooking, especially the fine pork pie they were to have. Pip trembled, for he knew he would get a double dose of "Tickler" if his sister should find out that he had taken the pie, even to give it to a starving man. Just as she was going to the kitchen to get it, and Pip was in perfect terror of her return, a band of soldiers came rushing in, holding out a pair of hand-cuffs which Pip thought must surely be for him, but they had come to have them mended by Joe, and they told the astonished 114 TALrKS ABOUT AUTHORS. dinner-party all about the escaped convict. They knew he must be out on the marshes, and they expected to hunt him down, and close in upon him about dusk. Pip felt sorry for the poor man and kept very quiet for fear the soldiers might ask him if he had seen the man. When the hand-cuffs were mended, all the men started off with the soldiers to help in the hunt for the convict. Of course Pip went along, too, and was with them when they came upon the miserable man out on the marshes. He looked kindly at Pip, and, some- how, the boy didn't feel afraid, after that, when he thought of him. Pip worked away at the village school, kept by a nice girl named Betty, until he became an ap- prentice boy to Joe, expecting to be a blacksmith, too, until one day word came to them that Pip had a great fortune waiting for him when he grew up, and that he must go to London to be educated and live like a fine gentleman. No one knew where the money came from, but Joe and Pip thought it must be from an old lady who lived in the neighborhood, who had been kind to Pip, and who was very rich. Years after, when Pip had grown to be a man, he learned that the money had all come to him TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. 115 from the old convict, who, after escaping to Aus- tralia, had made a large fortune, and all the years of Pip's boyhood and youth had been sending him money for his education, that he might live like a rich man's son. He did all this for Pip, because he remembered the little boy who had helped him in his trouble so long before. Dickens wrote a large book about Pip's life, and you will all like to read about his "Great Expectations." HARRIET BEECHER STOWE. HARRIET BEECHER STOWE, AND "uncle TOM'S cabin." Born, June 14, 1812; Died, 1896. It seems strange to think that ahnost a cen- tury has passed since the little girl was born who grew up to write "Uncle Tom's Cabin." Just eighty-seven years have passed since the curly-haired girl Harriet Beecher, was born into the large family of the Reverend Lyman Beecher, then a poor preacher living in the town of Little- field, Connecticut. The girl's mother had a sweet, gentle spirit which was never forgotten by the children, although she died while they were all young. Harriet remembered her mother's great love for flowers, and especially one thing that hap- pened. Her brother in New York had sent the little girl's mother some fine tulip bulbs, which were very precious in those days, especially to one who loved flowers as Mrs. Beecher did. Little Harriet found them hidden away in the nursery, and thinking that they were onions, she persuaded her brothers and sisters that they were good to eat. So they all sat down in a cor- ner of the nursery and ate every one of them. (117) 118 TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. When their mother came they all ran to her telling her what they had done. Instead of scold- ing them she sat down by them and said in her quiet voice, ''My dear children, what you have done makes mamma very sorry. Those were not onions, but beautiful flowers, and if you had not eaten them, we should have had next summer in the garden great beautiful red and yellow flowers such as you never saw." Harriet always remembered how depressed they all felt after finding out what a mistake they had made. When Harriet was about five years old she used to trudge to school every day with her chubby bare-footed brother Henry, who was then about four years old, and who grew up to be one of the greatest preachers we ever had in this country, Henry Ward Beecher of Plymouth Church, Brooklyn. As the children trudged along they did not think much about growing up to be great, but they were glad to learn to read. When Harriet was six years old, she began to search for books to read in the barrels which were full of her father's old sermons and paper covered books that were stored away in the gar- ret. Eighty years ago there were very few books written for children, and you can imagine TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. 119 Harriet's joy when at last she found away down at the bottom of a barrel of sermons, an old copy of "The Arabian Nights." This book opened a new world to her, a fairy-land, where she could fly whenever she was in trouble. If her brothers teazed her, all she had to do for comfort was to curl up in some corner with her precious book, and in a moment she had sailed away to fairyland. She loved to sit in her father's study and watch him as he wrote his sermons. She thought he must be a wonderful man to read and understand all the old books around the walls. About this time the little girl was very lonely, as her own dear mother had died while her brother Henry was almost a baby. After a year or so, their father brought home a new, young mother, whom they soon loved very much, al- though they never forgot their own mother who had loved them. The memory of her kindly voice and tender patience helped them all through their lives. The new mother was pleased with the bright little Beecher children and loved them, and took good care of them. Before many years had passed she gave them new brothers and sisters, and they lived a happy, hearty, child-life. The girls had as good times as the boys, tramp- ing through the woods with them, and going 120 TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. fishing. The only trouble was that, once in a while, they had to sew patch-work and seams, and knit stockings and mittens, but Harriet didn't mind that very much. When she was about twelve years old, she had a very good teacher of composition, and at the school exhibition, which, in those days, was a grand affair, Harriet's composition was chosen, as one of the three best, to be read at the exhi- bition. The subject was "Can the Immortality of the Soul be Proved by the Light of Nature ?" Was not that a large subject for such a little girl? Her father, who was sitting on the platform by the side of Mr. Brace, the teacher, began to look interested while this fine essay was being read, and he asked, "Who wrote that composi- tion?" When Mr. Brace answered, "Your daugh- ter, sir," he was quite astonished. When Harriet saw how pleased her father was, she felt very happy. She often said, "It was the proudest moment of my life." This talent grew all her life. Under all circumstances, some of the hardest a woman ever had to bear, she could always write stories. When we read of her writing stories to earn a little extra money, when they were so poor, and TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. 121 her cares were so many, we think of the little girl who sat in the corner of the library to dream away her troubles over the beautiful "Arabian Nights." Many times after her marriage to Prof. Stowe, when she had little children of her own, and not much money to pay the house-keeping bills, she would say to her faithful friend and governess, "Now, Anna, if you will keep the babies, and at- tend to things for one day, I'll write a piece, and then we shall be out of the scrape." And so she wrote her "pieces" and stories, and everyone wished she had more time to write, for they were all eager to read all that could be written by Harriet Beecher Stowe. When she was nearly forty years old, and her heart was very sad over the death of her little baby, Charley — when she was grieving for the loss of his sweet little face and tender warm hands around her neck, she used to think, "How terrible it is for the poor slave mothers to have their own little ones torn from them and sold, not knowing where they are or who will care for them." As she thought about the terrible wrongs of slavery, of how mothers and fathers were separated forever from their children, brothers sold from sisters, slaves beaten to death 122 TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. for running away, all these sad, cruel things roused her to do something to hasten the time when every man, woman and child in the United States should be free. Her sister wrote to her from Boston: "Now, Hattie, if I could use a pen as you can, I would write something that would make this whole nation feel what an accursed thing slavery is." When Mrs. Stowe read this, she rose from her chair, saying: "I will write something. I will, if I live." In February, 1857, she was sitting in the col- lege church at Brunswick, when suddenly and clearly, like the unrolling of a picture, the vision of the death of Uncle Tom came to her, and it affected her so she could scarcely keep from cry- ing. She wrote out the vision as soon as she reached home, and read it to her children. Two of them, ten and twelve years old, began to sob and cry, one of them saying: "Oh, mamma, slavery is the most cruel thing in the world." Twenty-five years after Mrs. Stowe wrote to one of her children: "I well remember the win- ter you were a baby, and I was writing 'Uncle Tom's Cabin.' I remember many a night weep- ing over you as you lay sleeping beside me, and TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. 123 I thought of the slave mothers whose babies were torn from them." Uncle Tom's story was first written for a mag- azine, called "The National Era," as a serial story. Whittier was one of the editors. Every copy was eagerly bought, and the story attracted world-wide attention. Just as soon as it was finished, a publisher wanted it immediately to make it into a book, and the first day the book was published, three thousand copies were sold, and the first year three hundred thousand copies. Almost in one day, the poor struggling wife and mother had become the best known woman in the world, and no longer would she have to fight the battle of poverty, for in doing the earnest work of her heart to free the black man from slavery, she had freed her own life also, from the slavery of poverty. To this day, "Uncle Tom's Cabin" has been one of the best selling books in our coun- try, and it has been translated into almost every language. Only the other day a notice of a trans- lation of it into Welsh was seen in a new book catalogue. When the story was finished in the magazine, Mrs. Stowe wrote to the children who had read her story, this message: 124 TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. "Dear children: You will soon be men and women, and I hope that you will learn from this story always to remember and pity the poor and oppressed. When you grow up, show your pity by doing all you can for them; never, if you can help it, let a colored child be shut out from school, or treated with neglect or contempt, on account of his color. Remember the sweet ex- ample of Eva, and try to feel the same regard for all that she did. Then when you grow up, I hope the foolish and unchristian prejudice against people, merely on account of their color, will be done away with.^' Mrs. Stovve wrote other books about slavery after this. "Dred," or "The Tale of the Dismal Swamp'' is a tale of the suffering of the runa- way slaves in the wilderness, and Dred himself was a noble character, much like "Aaron The Runaway," written about long years afterward, by Joel Chandler Harris. Other books following these were of more happy lives and of more peaceful times. But Mrs. Stowe's name had become known in all countries, by "Uncle Tom's Story," and she received letters from the great men and women of all lands, and when she went to Europe later in her life, her journey was like that of a queen TALKS ABOUT AUTHORG. 125 entering lier kingdom, for every one wanted to do honor to tlie woman who had written that wonderful story of human slavery. And in all future days, when men and women are working to free others from other forms of slavery, they will find inspiration to more earnest effort by reading about Mrs. vStowe's life and work for humanity. "O soon may we see the dawn of that day, When the idols of glory and greed shall be shattered, And peace shed her pure and beneficent ray, When the storm-clouds of war have forever been scattered. And the blood tarnished blade to a plough-share be made, And the bayonet's gleam into red rust shall fade, And the cannon be dumb, and the battle flags furled, And freedom and plenty be shared by the world." CHARLES KINGSLEY. Born Juue 12, 1819; Died 1875- All children who have read "Water Babies" and "Greek Heroes'' love this name, and would like to know more about the man who loved children so much, that he would leave for a time his duties as a great preacher, to v/rite beautiful stories for them. He was such a bright child that every one thought he would grow up to be an uncommon man. His great delight when only four years old was to make a little pulpit in the nursery, and using his apron for a gown he would preach real sermons. His mother wrote some of them down and showed them to a great Bishop, who thought they were remarkable. Here is a part of a poem he wrote when about five years old: "Morning." "Everybody is rising, Boys and girls go to school, Everybody is at work. Everybody is busy. The bee wakes from her sleep to gather honey, But the drone and the queen-bee lie still in the hive, And the bee guards them. Be bu.sy when thou canst." (126) TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. 127 All the surroundings of his early life were like seeds planted in his mind, for in the books he wrote afterward we see the fruit grown ripe and beautiful. His book "Hereward the Wake" shows this most clearly. He wandered around the Fens, where wild ducks were found before the Great Fen or Swamp was drained, and he found many speci- mens of rare and beautiful butter-flies, to add to his collection, for beside his writing, while still a very small boy, he was a naturalist too. When his father moved away from the Fens to Clovelly, he found a new world. Instead of the sturdy countrymen he met sailors and fisher- men, and there was a great contrast between the flat scenery he had left and the rocky sea-coast of Clovelly, in Devonshire. Charles and his brothers began to study about the sea-shells with a doctor who lived in the neighborhood. They had great pleasure too, with a pony and a boat their father bought for them. Both their father and mother shared in the boys' eager delight in their new surroundings. Their father could steer a boat, "shoot a herring net'' and haul a seine as well as one of the fishermen. When the herring fleet put out to sea the whole 128 TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. family would go down to the Quay, as they called the wharf where the fishing boats landed, to see the fishermen start, and the father would hold a short "parting service," the men and women all joining in singing a Psalm. The memory of these times was in his mind when he wrote "The Song of the Three Fishers." As he grew older, Charles' father sent him to the town of Clifton to school, and it was while living there that he saw the Bristol Riots. Those terrible scenes seemed to change him from a timid boy to a man full of sympathy and cour- age. When the Reform Bill had been thrown out by the House of Lords, one of the Tories, Sir Charles Wetherell, entered the town in triumph with an escort of men finely dressed. This so angered the people that a great mob rose in re- bellion and over a hundred persons were killed. The bishop's palace, the excise office, the prisons and many other houses were burned down, the loss being over half a million pounds. This was the Bristol Riot and Charles Kingsley never for- got it. When he became a preacher, like his father, he was always doing kindly deeds for the sick and poor. With all his study and his busy days as TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. 129 a minister he found time to write many books. The one we all love so well, "Greek Heroes," is dedicated to his children. "To my children Rose, Alaurice and Mary, a little present of Old Greek Fairy Tales." You will find these words written on the fly leaf, and in the Preface, "Now why have I called this book 'The Heroes ' ? " Be- cause that was the name which the Hellens (or Greeks) gave to men who were brave and skill- ful, and dare do more than other men. At first I think that was all it meant, but after a time it came to mean something more. It came to mean, men who helped their country, men in those old times when the country was half wild who killed fierce beasts and evil men, and drained swamps and founded towns, and therefore after they were dead were honored because they had left their country better than they had found it. And we call such a man a hero in English to this day, and call it a heroic thing to suffer pain and grief that we may do good to our fellowmen. We may all do that, my children, boys and girls alike, and we ought to do it for it is easier now than ever, and safer, the path more clear. But you shall hear how the Hellens said their heroes worked three thousand years ago. The stories are not all true, of course, but the meaning of 130 TALKS ABOUT AUTHORvS. them is true, and true forever, and that is — "Do right and God will help you. " And all these Greek Fairy Stories as Charles Kingsley tells them to ns, take on new meaning. In the story of his life written by his wife we find how "Water Babies" was written. He was reminded one morning of a promise he had made, "Rose, Maurice and Mary have got their book, and baby must have his." Mr. Kingsley made no answer but walked to his study and locked himself in. In half an hour he returned with the "Story of Little Tom," the first chapter of "Water Babies.'' All the other chapters were written as easily, and he vv^as much surprised at the sensation made by the book. He often spent whole days in the silence and solitude of the river banks, sitting quietly for hours fishing in the river, and again walking alone by the sea. The pages of "Water Babies" seem filled with the freshness of the river-side and the splash of the sea. When this kindly heart, which so loved chil- dren was still, and his body was laid to rest in Eversley, little children who loved the "Water Babies" and "The Heroes" would kneel on his grave and look at the beautiful flowers placed there by loving hands, and the gypsies never TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. 131 passed by the gate without turning in to stand by the grave, sometimes scattering wild flowers over it, saying, "He went to heaven on the pray- ers of the gypsies." But better than any monument is the love and memory of a little child, and all over the world today, Charles Kingsley lives in the hearts of little children. A scrap of verse by Kingsley: "Tho' we earn our bread, Tom By the dirty pen, What we can, we will be, Honest Englishmen. "Do the work that's nearest. Though it's dull at whiles; Helping when we meet them, Lame dogs over stiles. "See in every hedge row, Marks of angels' feet; Epics in each pebble. Underneath our feet. "Once a 3'ear like school-boys, Robin-hooding go; Leaving fops and fogies A thousand feet below." 'Not a life so mean or lowly, But if love is there, Both ingrowing and outflowing. May be strong and fair." EDWARD BGGIvESTON. " THE HOOSIER SCHOOLMASTER." Born December 10, l.s,37. The story of Eggleston's early life is some- what like that of the Hoosier poet, James Whit- comb Riley, but the time of his boyhood was earl- ier in the civiliza- tion of the West, and the pioneers had a harder time of it. There were clearings to make in the forest, log cabins to build and all sorts of out-door work to do. Eg- gleston's boyhood, like that of W\ D. Howells, was full of hard work. Their fathers were both educated men, fond of books, and often talked with their boys about their reading and about life. Edward's father, educated in Vir- ginia, was a bright j^oung lawyer, who died when (132) EDWARD EGGLESTON. TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. 133 he was only thirt}^ years old, while yet in the very beginning of liis life work, but Edward re- membered many things he had told him. Full of the southern spirit, he used to say : "Never tell a lie, and whip any man who says you lie." He also advised his boy to keep out of politics, for he was shocked to find that even his friends did untrue things to get their "man" elected. Edward was a weak boy physically, but his strong will helped him to accomplish great things. In those early days, the sons of pioneers had great ambition, especially to get a good edu- cation, but it was a very hard thing to do. The schoolmasters had to teach without knowing very much themselves, and often began when very young men. They boarded around in the homes of their pupils, one week in each place, and received only a small salary. The school terms were very short, as the boys and girls had to help work out-of-doors as soon as spring came. Many of the young teachers, ignorant and untrained, had very little control over the children or over their own temper — and the fun- loving youngsters had many a whipping. Eggleston says," "The long birch switches hanging against the wall haunted nervous chil- dren night and day." Boys, whose fathers and 134 TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. mothers (like Edward's) had been well educated, must have felt impatient with some of the school teachers, who could not even spell correctly. Edward, himself, hardly spent two years in a schoolroom, as he had to work on a farm and in a country store. Until he was ten years old, be- cause of his bad health, he was thought to be dull and slow, but after that he read the most advanced books he could get hold of, and thus educated himself by his reading, so that few young men of that time knew as much of litera- ture as he did. When he was fifteen he entered into a contest for a prize offered by a country editor, for the best composition written by a school-boy, and although he was a clerk in a store he was allowed to take part in the contest, and received the prize. When he was seventeen he visited his father's relatives on a plantation in Virginia. It was a sudden change from the bare, hard life of the west to the lazy, comfortable life of a southern planter. One of his relatives wanted to adopt him, and keep him there, but Edward wanted to go back to his old life in the west. At this time he had to go still farther west, to Minnesota, as they all feared he would die with consumption. He determined to save his life by TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. 135 doing out-of-doors work, so he felled trees, drove oxen and lived in the open air continually. His fight with the cough and fever was successful, and he soon began to recover. He then walked all the way from Minnesota to Kansas, over two hundred miles, sleeping in cabins, log houses, country taverns and sometimes in the open air. When he reached Kansas he started to walk home, but his strength and money giving out, he had to be helped by strangers on the road. When he reached home he looked so tattered and torn the home folks did not know him at first, thinking he was a tramp. He longed to go to college but knew that his health would break down again if he should, so he became a Methodist minister or circuit rider. He had read a great many religious books, and knew the good young men who had come to his home many times as circuit riders, and it seemed to him a noble life. In those days the people lived so far from each other they could not afford to build churches, and a minister would have a circuit of a great many miles as his parish or district. He would hold services at school houses and often at the homes of his people. The farmers and their families were always glad to see them ride up to the house. They had a good 136 TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. influence on the young people and Edward had been so helped by them he thought it would bj the best life for him to live. The Methodists thought it very wrong to read novels, so Edward tried hard to keep this rule, and it seems strange that the strict Methodist circuit rider should later in life write novels himself. One of his best known books is called "The Circuit Rider,'' and it gives much true experience. In his first circuit he had over ten places to visit. He spent much time on horseback and studied as he rode along. In this life he had great opportunities to study all kinds of characters and in his books we have true pictures of country life, and of camp meetings in the summer time when relig- ious excitement was almost as high as in the revival meetings held in the little school houses on winter evenings. The fun of these days was not made entirely by the young folks, for young and old gathered in the barns to husk the corn in the fall, when the grain was stored away for the winter. As each farmer cut his corn he would invite the neighbors to meet in his barn on a certain even- ing to a "husking bee." They came early in the evening ready for a frolic and ready for work. They had contests to see how fast they TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. 137 could husk the ears of corn, aud after the husks were cleared away they would have a dance or play old-fashioned games. The poet Whittier describes these husking parties in his poems of New England country life, so it must have been a custom carried by the people of the east to their new homes in the west. Another favorite social excitement was the "quilting bee." Some farmer's wife would want to quilt two or three large "comfortables" for the winter; so she would get the old quilting frames down from the garret, and have ready plenty of cotton, thread and needles, and then she w^ould invite all of the women known to be good quilt- ers, to spend the afternoon with her. In the evening after the work was done, the men folks and the young people w^ould come to help eat the good supper she had prepared, and enjoy the fun. Then, there were singing schools and sleighing parties for the young folks, so the life of those days was not by any means dull. All these merry-makings are described in Eggles- ton's books. He could not stand the hard work of circuit riding very long, so he went off to Minnesota again for a rest, and began to preach to one congregation in a western town, where part of the inhabitants were Indians. He 138 TALKS ABOUT AUTHORS. preached so well that he began to be known and talked of in larger cities. He soon had a call to a chnrcli in St. Paul. His health was never good, so he had to stop work often. He found easier work in writing for the religious papers of the time. But the scenes of his 3^oung life, the old school-house, the school-boys and the master, the experiences he had as circuit rider, were in his mind as clear, bright pictures, and he began to give these pictures to the world in the form of a story. "The Hoosier School-Mas- ter" made his name known at once. His book "The Graysons" was, of course, a shock to some of the good old Methodists, for it was a real novel. It is about a young student who was accused of murder. Abraham Lincoln took up his cause and pleaded for him so earnestly that he was acquitted. It is evident from this book, and other incidents told of Bggleston, that he knew Lincoln. Another very interesting book of Eggleston's is called "The End of the World," and is a pic- ture from life of some folks who believed the end of the world was coming on a certain day, and had their ascension robes ready and all their affairs settled. He has also written a series of books for boys and girls. One is called "The TAKKS ABOUT AUTHORS. 139 School-Master's Series;" another "Queer Stories for Boys and Girls;" "Roxy," is one of his good stories, and his histories are liked because they are written like story books. His latest book is now in preparation, and its title will be "Life in the Original Thirteen Colonies." It has taken him a long time to write this, and it will be a very valuable work when finished. It is a re- markable fact that this man is still working on his books, although his whole life long he has been fighting sickness. His will must have been a very strong one. In all stories of west- ern boys who have become great men, we find that they inherited wonderful force of will and patient perseverance, from their sturdy pioneer fathers and mothers. Wm. Dean Howei.i