St. Paul daily globe. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn.) 1884-1896, 1884-11-02
LONGFELLOWS HOME.
A Glance at the Old House Where the
Great Poet Lived.
The Library and Great HaIl-LOngfellOw's
Love for Philadelphia.
Boston Letter. ]

Boston Letter
II is a curious old relic 1t looks as though
the elements had cut the tree short off about
Gfteen feet above the ground. 1t stands on
the slope of sort Of terrace, hard by the
corner of an old, old house. Sometimes il
shades the window, but generally it docs no
other duty except to appear Ike sentinel.
It does this duty well, guarding sacred
spot. For many Years-several hundred,
30 tradition says-it has stood there. There
ere those living who remember when it was
a beautiful tree, with spreading branches and
rich foliage.
As It grew very old it decayed, until now
only the long stump remains. What COM
fort It brought in its palmy days to merry OF
sad men and women, what interesting
scenes it has witnessed and how many and
how great people it has sheltered from the
RAYS of the sun or patter of the rain no one
can now tell. 1t is singular looking object.
In winter time it is grim and ugly aud
constantly wears an expression as if saying:
"Alas, am old.''
THE GARB OF YOUTH.
But to-day it is clad in the garb of youth.
It looks like a column of clinging vines
You would say in looking upon it. ''Some
loving hand has planted here a shaft Of ever
greens to the poets memory" Not frac-
ton Of the old stump can be seen. Ivy and
beautiful creeping tendrils have twined
themselves all about this old landmark Of the
past They have even grown away beyond
the top and fallen over until the tender
underground looks like the branches Of a
weeping willow. A glance at this strange
reminder of other days recalls these lines
from the pen of Longfellow, who in his life
time kept this trunk of an ancient elm
standing and ivy-clad, as he would have
kept near him any other friend of his child
hood.
''See how the ivy climbs and expands
Over the humble hermitage, and seems to caress
with its little hands
The rough, gray stones as a child that stands
Caressing the wrinkled cheeks OF age"
The poet wrote this stanza and more
charming verses describing the UNCOVERED
church of old Saint David's at Radnor, just
out of Philadelphia, not long before he died.
This singular time marked roof tree where
Longfellow dwelt is hedged about with many
other interesting monuments of the past be-
side the one / have described. The elms
and poplars are all about the yard, years and
years old. Then there are fruit trees and
flowers. The great row of lilac bushes that
fence the whole front Of the yard are still
fresh and bright. The old wooden house,
built away back in revolutionary times, has
not yet been modernized. The beautiful
lawn that reaches to the road and the pretty
green terrace that follows all around the an
tique mansion proclaim the age of the place
and seem TO half smile in their late summer
garb over the havoc time has made with man
and his works.
LoNeFELLow's HOME.
Longfellow's home is situated in ouie
part of Cambridge, on one of the more Sc
cluded streets of this ancient town. No
place about Boston is so much visited as
this 1t is curious to see how much interest
centers about everything that belongs TO a
gifted man just after he is dead. 1t is also
curious TO observe how soon he is forgotten
The moving, busy throng doesn't stop long
to keep in mind the men who have made the
world better with their thoughts.
walked over to this old homestead the
other day to renew my acquaintance with the
hallowed place. 1t was charming morning
and quite crowd was already threading the
walks and gratifying their curiosity by scan
ming the old house from the outside. I
Joined the throng for a few moments
TO see what changes had been made
since last was here. The place seems al
most the same as when the gifted man lived
and the old housekeeper said ''We try to
keepit as nearly as possible as it was when
Mr.. Longfellow was alive" This information
from the person in charge came half an hour
after had sprung the old fashioned brass
knocker on the front door, and she had con-
scented to show me into the library. AS she
opened the door and stepped in she said:
Visitors are not permitted. We have to
make 1t the rule or we would be kept busy
with callers. We rarely make an exception,
but as you knew Mr.. Longfellow walk to the
study and see how familiar it will still look to
your
The parlor door was wide open as she
spoke and in it / could see the old fashione
sofas, with their neat chintz covering, look
ing Just as comfortable as when found an
easy seat in one of them one rainy April day
the very year Mr.. Longfellow died The
books on the table were just the same and
the pictures on the wall had not been moved
The present mistress of the house
hat in hand and reverential bow stepped
within this sacred room. There was the
open fireplace to the left, but no cheerful
IRE burning therein, as on my last visit.
Inc Two great easy chairs on either side
seemed to stand just as they did then, when
Longfellow occupied the one to the right.
ana In his happy way told Of how he wrote
MS best verses and the stories of his frolics
with Hawthorne in their early DAYS The
large square table upon which he wrote stands
now as 1t stood then, but it lacks the delight
tul confusion which says: ''The master is at
home and at work" The scraps of writing.
the other evidences of toll and those charm
Ing positions for objects which genius ALWAYS
amos are no more. The pen which traced SO
many beautiful thoughts lays idle and will
never again put in enduring form the works
OF SO great man. The books are all
arranged IN order about the table and there
Is prim methodical air to the room, which
in itself relates the sad story that the bard
no longer lives.
WHERE HE WORKED.
There are no literary works scattered about
the hoor as there was when was last here.
ad the walnut cases which line the four
sides are closed and the books stand idle
upon the shelves. Naturally the room is not
light and airy as it was when the master
lived, for the curtains are drawn, the shut
ters closed and an air of gloom thrown over
me fayorite resting AID working place of the
great poet whose life's work is done. Against
one Of thr bookcases stands a small oil
painting al Longfellow when he was Young
i presents him at about twenty, when his
genius Arst began 10 End expression in
yaTses. IL seems a clever picture of him NJ