Stevens County tribune. (Morris, Minn.) 1877-1880, 1878-12-26
Mr.. And Mrs. s. C. Hall.


. Mr.. And Mrs. s. C.. Hall. ,
In late number of The Times short
but kindly paragraph relating to the we'll
known literary copartners, Mr.. and Mrs
S. c. Hall, made me think that descrip-
ton of their. everyday lives from one
who has the pleasure of calling them
friends, and who but few months ago
made one of their circle, might not come
amiss to somelof their admirers this side
of tho water.
Mr.. and Mrs. Hall 1--we in a low, un-
pretending looking little house, with an
iron gate In the high white wall that sur
rounds it, in the artistic region of Ken
sington, near the Holland House, and are
sat home" to theil friends every Friday
in an informal pleasant way. A very
neat and low-voiced maid opens the door
for you and shows you througha narrow
hall, the walls of which are covered with
engravings, into long, low-ceiinged
room, where the dear old people received
all who come. It was warm dav in Ju-
lv when last visited them, and the pref
ty little conservatory was full of greens
that four1shed to the notes of gently
dripping fountain. Only few were
gathered in the room, as the afternoon
was yet young. Mr.. Hall rose at once to
greet us, and stopped me on my way to
his wife at the OF her end of the
rsom. We all know, of course,
how old he Is in matter of mere years.
but younger hearted man I have never
met, nor one on whom greatness, hardly
worked for, and nobly won, rests so sim
ply. His interest in all that is new is as
fresh as ever; he wakes the fire and life,
where literature, science, or art is con
cerned as eagerly as go years ago.when he
first took up the editorshlp OF the then Neso
Monthly, now better known as the Art
Magazine. He is fine looking old man,
with head not unlike Longfellow's, an
abundance of absolutely snow white hair,
which stands about is face like name,
dark eyes, eager and piercing, perfectly
black eyebrows, bushy and straight,
and an overhanging brow, be
speaking intellect. His wife is as gentle
as he is imptlsive; as full of wo,nanli-
ness as he IS of manliness; as quite and
earnest in her welcome as he is spontane-
Gus and cordial. She, too. has white hair,
put smoothly down, and banded by a
broad black velvet ribbon. She has a
kind, true face, purified by suffering, and
marked by thought and study. She re-
ceived US sitting on low oaken settee,
over which an eastern shawl, carelessly
thrown, seemed fitting adj unct for her
satin and rare old 1aces. Her sweet voice
asked our pardon for seeming rudeness
in so doing, "but," said she, smiling, II
am an old woman, and growing older,
my dear, so l claim my privileges, you
see." In the course of Conversation with
Mr.. Hall concerning his past, he said,
"Ah, my dear young lady, l have passed
busy and an eventful life. / have seen
many geniuses come and go, rise and fall.
/ have known Percy, Wordsworth, Byron,
Motherwell, Tom Moore, Mrs. Browning
and her husband, aud poor L. E. L., while
| count now among nay friends our Lau-
reste, and your mighty Longfellow, whom
l think the gIatest and only poet of this
time and generation. consider Tenny-
son as belonging to a past age, Arthurian
if you like. l look about me, having
known giants in my time, and what do !
see? A few singing minstrel boys
stringing rhyming lines together and
sending them forth as poetry. / tell you.
shaking his white head till each indi.
vidual hair took a life of It's own, 1--WE
have but one living poet, and he is not
ours, but yours, Longfellow." Their room
is full of souvenirs sent by those who
started in the race with him, but who
have gone to their rest before them, q:
we'll as of many tokens of a 1--we still
tender and grateful in living hearts. "Dc
you see that little harp on the piano un.
der glass case?7 he asked me; "that
belonged to poor Tom Moore. Many.
the time he has taken it up, and played
and sang his own melodies to the wife
and me After his death his widow sem
it to me. 1t has been mute since then
That table, small and common looking
is one Wordsworth wrote many of his
sonnets upon Look; this is poor L. E. Ia
little worn pocket book; she sent it to my
wife as farewell gift, with sad, wilo
little note, when she went away with thai
brute of man. She never came back tC
us, and the poor little purse is pathetic
thing, is it not9 Shall l tell you now
first came to know Mrs. RrownipgG mis-:
Barrett she was then.) There came tt
me one day, in the youth of my editor
ship, a manuscript, beautifully writer
and as clear as print. 1t was poem Of
such rare excellence and beauty that the
thought arose that was being made the
subject OF practical joke, and that il
was one of Wordsworth's unknown to me
With fear and trembling, published i
under the modest signature, E. 8. L
was her first published effort, and the one
she refers to so kindly in her letters tC
Horne. So came to know her, and to love
her for herself, as had admired her fol
her genius Once there came to my hand:
a small manuscript, in cramped hand writ
ing, not signed. / read it, for mark you
no good editor leaves the disposition of {
manuscript to his readers. With The
first quarter of it was utterly disguised
and said, In my superior vanity, what de-
| care for the petty troubles of a petty
.Ivillage, or the petty squabbles of two
petty rival newspapers Luckily for me
read little further, and began to take
in the cleverness, the delicate wit, the
subtle huulor of it. It was very late a
night when finished it, and said, 'Thanl
God for seeing its light. All, see yor
know what it is. You would be ashamed
to be ignorant of it, for truly it was Lsttl
Peltsnqtonl I actually quaked in my
shoes TO think how nearly / had passed i
/ by. Must you got Alb, so you leave u
to attend on Mr.. Welsh. Why sol"
i This is the Fourth of July, Mr.. Hall
! The day of our glorious Independence.
mlaaf fy0 RI xxyioh vror, oo,,,,%v., Froph 11roc