Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, 1889-08-29

quiet more than formerly. and then, too. !
am getting to be an old man. If my friends
call shall receive them, of course; indeed,
nv house is always open, but do not ex-
pect many people will come. I shall no
doubt receive many letters, and possibly
few expressions of what little esteem people
have for me, but there will be no celebra-
ton. I don't want one. I will be 80 years
old, that is ALL"
The eAutocrat ofthe Breakfast Table always
has kindly welcome for newspaper men.
1t is not as with Whittier, who was news
paper writer himself, but rather because of
his unchanging geniality, his eternal good
nature and tinge of that old-fashioned
courtesy now going out Of existence.
A VERY QUIET LIFE.
He said he could not tell the story of his
life. ST don't know how to tell it; but if
you will ask me questions will answer
them. My life has been q quiet one. It
has been very quiet. No; there are no in
cidents or events in it that 1 can recall now.
Indeed, have lived very quiet life"
There was something quiet, undefnable
in the way he said that, certainly it was not
regret that his 80 years had been without
startling incident, nor was it pride. Then
he was reminded that someone has quoted
him as saying in his advancing age helhas
been forced to the conviction that though he
has devoted the better part of his years to
the science of anatomy and physiology, he
must base his claim to note upon his
literary productions. "Ah, that is un-
true" not word of it is
true, I never said such a thing
in my life. would not say it, anyway. 1
have written much and have studied all
my life. No; could not have said that. 1
may have said some time that my writing
had brought my name more prominently
forward than my attention to the science of
anatomy, but never said that my fame
rested upon the work of my pen. I prac-
ticed medicine In Boston for a number of
years, so that know quite we'll what actual
practice Is"
HIS FIRST PUBLISHED POEM
Popular understanding has gone forth.
into the world announcing that the first
published poem of Holmes was that one
which he wrote in 1880. when it was pro-
posed to break up the old frigate Constitu-
ton, and commencing with the lines
"Ah, tear her tottering ensign down,
Long has it waved on high"
Upon the authority of DR.. Holmes him.
SELF this popular understanding" is de-
MED.
cit was not until quite recently that I
knew myself which one of my poems was
the first one published" he said. 81 had
nv secretary look the matter up, and I
found That the first two were 'sThe Last
Leaf and ''The Height of the Ridiculous,"
one was published in 1880 and the other in
1881"
1 asked him of which one of his poems he
is most fond?
"Well, 1 suppose am like all authors
xuba hot 0f
poems that like very much. Some of
them are better finished than others, no
doubt, but like them all. You insist upon
your question. Well, if were compelled
to make an answer I should say that the
'Chambered Nautilus is perhaps the most
polished of the lot. That is not fair an
swer. Then will say what did first that
there are about half dozen of my poems
of which I am very fond"
As everyone knows Oliver Wendell
Holmes was a member OF the class of 1929
at Harvard. asked the Doctor If hecould
give me the names of those who are yet
alive. "Why, yes; yes, indeed" and he
stepped briskly to his little bookshelf and
took from it an old copy of the Harvard
triennial register.
ONLY TEN LIVING.
ct have marked cross against good
many of these names lately" he said.
There are not great many of them left
now. Let me see; there are but ten of the
members of that class living. There were
50 on graduating, but that was 60 years ago.
The surviving members of the classes of 1929
are Edwin Conant, Worcester county; Ed
ward Linzee Cunningham, Newport, R. l.;
Rev. Samuel Adams Devins, Boston; Will
liam GRAY, Boston; Charles Lowell Han
cock, Chicago; Rev. Samuel May, Leices-
ter, Mass; Samuel Francis Smith, Newton;
Charles Sterrer Storrow, Boston, and John
James Taylor, New York"
When the Doctor finished the list he
counted them over again, and when he saw
that plain addition made but 10 in all, a
very perceptible sigh came from him. The
Doctor did not hesitate to speak of his years
when the subject was called up by this ref
ference to the small number of survivors of
the Harvard class of 1929. ST don't think
that one of the companions of the early
years of my boyhood is left," and sigh
escaped from the lips of the Auto
crat of the Breakfast Table. as he put
the ends of his fingers together and closed
his eyes. I knew DR.. Inches, who died q
few days ago, as you remember, very well.
1 was almost intimately acquainted with
him. I had known him, ah, for 90 years,
80 yearsl half centuryl but when a man
reaches my age, and then looks back so
years, why even that distance into the past
to such man leaves a pretty good gap be-
hind it" and smile lighted up the calm,
genial face. "Half a century from 80 years
leaves a gap of 80 years, and 80 years are a
good many to most men. No, have no
friend left. There are many men, of course,
whom Knew when 1 was young, and who
are yet alive, but all my intimate friends
are gone. James Freeman Clarke? yes, he
was an intimate friend; knew him well; l
thought great deal of him; we saw each
other great deal, and his death was a sad
event for me-" -.--