one - never a in contrast to the homes of his neighbors. His house was a place for "plain living and high thinking." If the old walls could speak, what thoughts would they not voice, what emotions utter, what joyousness describe! He never kept a carriage, and save for two short intervals, just before and one just after the war, horse and buggy. To get to and from the railroad, he depended upon the hack, or some neighbor's vehicle, or walked. It may be added, that it was from the old house that little Trot was buried in December, 1863, just as her father reached. Hiram on his way to Washington from the Army of the Cumberland; and that it was to father Rudolph's that the body of little Eddie was brought for burial in the autumn of 1876. The two children the eldest and the youngest born sleep side by side in the Hiram graveyard. Talking of walking to and from the railroad, let me say that more of it was done twenty years ago than now. As I write, there comes to me a vision of an autumn evening in the year 1858. Mr. Garfield, Miss Booth, Henry Newcomb, and the writer- all of whom, save the last, have passed over, and "joined the majority"- alighted from the same train at the "Jeddo" platform. The two teachers had been to Cleveland; and Mr. Garfield had brought home with him a copy of "The Atlantic Monthly" for the current month. Here let me say that no man or woman less than forty years old can well appreciate the advent of this magazine. Such people found "The Atlantic" when they began to read. But in 1857"The Atlantic's" natal year-a great many minds were waiting for "something of the kind; and the magazine came to them. Thus it came to Mr. and Mrs. Garfield, Miss Booth, and others in the Hiram fellowship. He thought Dr. Holmes the strongest of the early contributors, and much appreciated, both his prose and his verse. He followed the successive numbers of "The Autocrat " with great interest. As the quartet before mentioned walked to Hiram that beautiful autumn evening, he read to them the twelfth number of this serial. I seem to hear again the intonations and to see the gestures with which he read the professor's "Prelude:" "I'm the fellah that tole one day The tale of the won'erful one-hoss shay." This little incident gives an opportunity to say that the scope of General Garfield's intellectual My Live Friend I shall be Sorry you Through of the time coines when can stop writing. his friends the General still seems to speak to me, and your words help me to feel that he does indeed live somewhere in the great Anisuse, I quite approse of your plan in regard to the themarial tohave, It would be most appropriate that the speeches to which you refer. should affear in such a bolume Your friend Rees. B. R. Hinsdale 66 tastes and likes was singularly wide. He took equal though a very different interest in Tooke's History of Prices," and in the "Biglow Papers." He grew wise over the grave and weighty page of Bacon, and laughed over "Pickwick " until it seemed that his own prediction, "I believe Dickens will kill me yet," would be realized. He delighted in the knightly tales of Scott, and in both the tragedy and comedy of Shakspeare. He was as rich in humor as he was strong in logic. He abounded in delightful fancies and in pleasant conceits. The election to the Presidency, indeed, laid its hand heavily upon him, repressing somewhat his early spirits; but in Hiram he was full of "jest and youthful jollity," of "quips and cranks." At the same time he never lost his propriety, or surrendered the dignity of his carriage. The over-grave might, indeed, have taken offence at his mirth and flow of spirits; but he who could "unbend" with a boy could instantly rise to the level of the grave and the serious. Few men ever saw clear around General Garfield, he was so many-sided. He became the "sage of Mentor," the man to whom the people looked for counsel and wisdom; but he was much more |