The new Northwest. [volume] (Portland, Or.) 1871-1887, 1878-06-28
A Talk with Whittier.

It When you see Whittier, you see in
: stantly il is the Whittier of the pic
d lures, only more thin and gray. Th
pictures give you larger head, yet no
d so fine in the lines that meau most to
3 man of genius; and no picture can Civ
r you the eyes, smaller than those we Sc
v in the portrait of Burns, but dark, in
J tense and tender, and when he speak
4 OF what touches him intensely, al
} aglOw with the light Of his soul, sucl
e eyes, indeed, as you only see now in
E picture by one of the great old masters
2 whose genius | used 20 think, as / wan.
t dered through the galleries, was mon
| wonderful in that than in anything els,
that has come 10 as from their hand
There is hint II the Quaker, you no
tice, in the eut of his dress, but not in
the color, which is black, not new al
: az, but so spotless as 10 make YOU wish
a. would take a.i your new garments
and put them through course 0f Irain-
ing for few months, that they might
get the habit Of looking as pure and
sweet as that when you came to wear
themi Quaker IN his speech. set using
thee" aud thou with such a shv.
sweet grace as TO make YOU wonder
whether the finest manners may not
lark, after all, within the homely old
Saxon terms; quick with his words
contrary TO all his traditions and train
ing, and with no hint Of the sacred sing
song his sect has always held in such
I profound esteem, especially i'm meetiu'.
When We had done with our greet
ings, we struck first, / cannot tell how,
on the fathOmless subject of the nature
and destiny Of the human soul. Nv
friend aud myself took the sunny side
OF the way, Whittier the shad0wy. We
tried 10 make out a case that should
center first aud last in the Divine love.
de stood fast by the human response
oility. We marshaled our picked
forces for Divine election of ali souls
at last TO the everlasting life. He
matched US with the freedom Of the
Will, through which man may elect
himself TO the doom of the lost, and per-
sist IN that to the end. We fired onr
last shot: "He shall 90 after the sheep
which Is lost until he find 10, and bring
lt on his shoulders rejoicing" He
feared that the habit OF wandering
would carry the day again whenever
the hapless thing got its chance To
break away; there would he no over
coming Of the freedom of the will, 90
wander of or to slay by the Shepherd
even IN the green pastures and by the
still waters Of God. It was most pa
thetic and touching little struggle Of
two TO one. still, Whittier stood when
We had done where he was when We be-
gan, unspeakably solemn and tender.
wishing, / thought, he could see what
seemed so sure 10 us, but neither able
nor willing TO disturb the solid and
strong convictions Of lifetime and of
such a life.
Then he said cheeriully TO me: ''I
hear thee Is lecturing this winter ON
Burns. ! should like 10 hear thee.
Burns - To me the nOblest poet of our
race. He was the first poet ] read. and
he will be the last. Our people did not
care Tor poetry" he said, "when ! was
a boy. We had in our house an Amer l
lean reader quite popular at that time, I
10 winch 1 found some pieces Of the old I.
school OF singers; aud, beside that. We
had poem called the 'Davidessi IN .
hope L have struck the title) written bv
"a Friend, and held la great esteem hv
our body. But somehow these did not .
seem To touch me. They were not what
wanted. One day one of our Preach
ers came TO stay all night, and noticing.
as we sat by the fire, that / was intent
on book, ne said Il will read tn thee.
u thee like, some poems by Robert
Burns. have copy with me- SO he
got the book and began To read. It was
the first had heard Of Burns, and INV
wonder and delight over what 1 heard
are as fresh still as ii 10 were Yesterday.
had heard nothing up to that mo-
ment, IL seemed To me, that had any
right to be called poetry, and listened
as long as the old man would read.
noticed he left the book on the table.
50 / rose at gray dawn next morning
and read for myself. / was hanging
over the book when the friend came
down, and then he told me he was 90
ing further tO visit such and such meet
lngs, would be back at such time, and
II | liked, would leave the book with
me. Thee may be sure | gratefully ac-
cepted his Ofler / read Burns every
moment l had to spare; and this was
one great result 20 me Of my communion
with him ] found that the things out
OF which poems came Were not, as I had T.
always imagined, sOmeWh here away of
ia world lying outside the edge of our
New Hampshire sky. They were right
there about my feet and among the peo-
pie j knew. The common things of our
common lifsI found were full Of poetry
lt was "A new and a perfect reveia tiou.n
He told me also what such "a man only
can say in good faith, that he could not
what the critics mean when :
they say there are things in Burns not 9
it to be read, things impure and vile.
the spume Of fallen spirit. 81 never a
found such things,n he said. 81 reada1
Burns, every line Of him, aud while
there Is difference, of course, 10 me ,
every line Is good" / know Whittier O
could not have thought, as he told ms O
this, that Paul said once: "T1 the pure
All things are pure;n and how purely
true his commentary on Burns was the {
great old text The Lakeside lI06fhIy {