affection of the book which had so fascinated him as a boy, and whose
pages still led him back into the "haunted chamber of youth."

It was during Longfellow's childhood that the British ship _Boxer_ was
captured by the _Enterprise_ in the famous sea-fight of the war of 1812;
the two captains who had fallen in the battle were buried side by side
in the cemetery at Portland, and the whole town came together to do
honor to the dead commanders. Long years afterward Longfellow speaks of
this incident in his poem entitled "My Lost Youth," and recalls the
sounds of the cannon booming over the waters, and the solemn stillness
that followed the news of the victory.

[Illustration: THE SPANISH SAILORS WITH BEARDED LIPS.]

It is in this same poem that we have a picture of the Portland of his
early life, and are given glimpses of the black wet wharves where were
the ships moored, and the Spanish sailors, "with bearded lips," who
seemed as much a mystery to the boy as the ships themselves. These came
and went across the sea, always watched and waited for with greatest
interest by the children who loved the excitement of the unloading and
loading, the shouts of the surveyors who were measuring the contents of
cask and hogshead, the songs of the negroes working the pulleys, the
jolly good nature of the seamen strolling through the streets, and,
above all, the sight of the strange treasures that came from time to
time into one home or another--bits of coral, beautiful sea-shells,
birds of resplendent plumage, foreign coins, which looked odd even in
Portland, where all the money nearly was Spanish, and the hundred and
one things dear to the hearts of sailors and children. It was during his
school-boy days that Longfellow published his first bit of verse. It was
inspired by hearing the story of a famous fight which took place on the
shores of a small lake called Lovell's Pond, between the two Lovells and
the Indians. Longfellow was deeply impressed by this story, and threw
his feeling of admiration into four stanzas, which he carried with a
beating heart down to the letter-box of the _Portland Gazette_, taking
an opportunity to slip the manuscript in when no one was looking.

[Illustration: HIS FIRST POEM.]

The next morning Longfellow watched his father unfold the paper, read
it, slowly before the fire, and finally leave the room, when the sheet
was grasped by the boy and his sister, who shared his confidence, and
hastily scanned.