Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1863-04-30

= nersgp. at all events, was thoroughly
mericGu and of the best iSpe, as were
.ewise his inanlefs tur "e are TIE neon
! we'll as the worst manDered people III |
le world.
Leigh Hunt loved dearly to be praised
hat is to say, he desired sympathy as
over seeks sunshine, and perhaps protited |
" it as rluch in the richer depth of color
pg that it impaired to his ideas. In |
esponse TO all that we ventured to ex-
,ress about his writings, (and, for my |
,art. I went quite to the extent of my |
conscience, which was q long way, and |
here lett the matter to lady and young
girl, who happily were with me,) his face
5hone, and he manifested great delight,
with perfect, and yet delicate, frankness
for which | loved him. He could not tell
Us. he said, the happiness that such ap-
probation gave him; it always took b N
by surprise, he remarked, for-pe", mans
because be cleaned his own boz rs spd
performed other little ordinaS', offices tor
himself-he never had beer. conscious n
anything wonderful in bis own person
And then he smiled, making himself and
all the poor little parlor about him beauti-
full thereby. 1t is usually the hardest
thing in the world to praise a man to his
face; but Leigh Hunt received the incense
with such gracious satisfaction Feeling it
to be sympathy, not vulgar praise,) that
the only difficulty was to keep the en-.
thusiasm of the moment within the limit
of permanent opinion. A storm had sud-
denly come up while we were talking
the rain poured, the lightning flashed, and
the thunder broke; but | hope, and have
great pleasure in believing, that it was a
sunny hour for Leigh Hunt. Neverthe
less, it was not to my voice that he most
favcrably inclined his ear, but to those of
my companions. Women are the fit min
listers at such a shrine.
He must have suffered keenly in bis
lifetime, and enjoyed keenly, keeping his
emotions so much upon the surface as he
seemed to do, and hconvenient for every
body to play upon. Being of cheerful
temperament, happiness had probably the
upperhand. His was light, mildly joy.
Gus nature, gentle, graceful, yet seldom at.
tanning to that deepest grace which results
from power for beauty, like woman, its
human representative, dallies with the
gentle, but yields its consummate favor
only to the strong. l imagine that
Leigh Hunt may have been more beauti-
full when met him, both in person and
character, than in his earlier days AS a
young man, | could conceive of his being
tinical il certain moods, but not now
when the gravity Of age shed venerable
| grace about him. [ reioiced to hear him
say that he was favored with most conf
dent and cheering anticipations in respect
to future life; aud there We're abundant
proofs, throughout our interview, of an
unrepining spirit, resignation, quiet rein
quishment of the worldly benefits that
were denied him, thankful enjoyment OF
whatever he had to enjoy, and piety and
hope shining onward into the dusk-all OF
which gave a reverential cast to the feel
ing with which we parted from him.
wish that he could have had one full
draught of prosperity before he died. As
matter OF artistic proprlety it would
have been delightful to see him inhabit a
beautiful house of his own, in an Italian
climate, with all sorts of elaborate up.
hostery and minute elegancies about him,
and succession of tender and lovely
women to praise his sweet poetry from
morning to night. l hardly know wheth.
er it is my fault, or the effect OF a weak
ness in Leigh Hunts character, that |
should be sensible of regret Of this ma
ture, when, at the same time, I sincerely
believe that he has found an intinity OF
better things in the world whittier he has
gone.
at our leave taking he grasped me
warmly by both hands, and seemed as
much interested in our whole party as il
he bad known US for years. All this was
genuine feeling, quick, luxuriant growth
out OF his heart, which was soil for flow.
er-seeds of rich and rare varieties-not
acorns, but true heart, nevertheless
Several years afterwards met him for the
last time at London dinner party, look
ing sadly broken down by infrmities
and my final recollection of the beautiful
old man presents him arm in arm with
nay, partly embraced and supported by, if !
mistake not-another beloved and hon
ored poet, whose minstrel name, since he
has week day one for his personal occa.
sion, will venture to speak. 1t was
Barry Cornwall whose kind introduction
had first made me known to Leigh Hunt.