few of her poems appear in her
brother's collected works. She was beautiful in person, delicate and
dark-eyed, and possessed of exquisite taste in everything. The village
of Amesbury still cherishes her memory and recounts her virtues. The tie
between the sister and brother was of the closest kind, and their home
life together for so many years as beautiful as any recorded in
literature. After her death a niece kept his house for some time; but
though she was all devotion to him, the old home was never home after
the dear sister had left it.

Mr. Whittier is a man to feel very much the loneliness of his later
life, bereft as he has been of all his family friends except one
brother. But he is very lovingly and tenderly cared for by some distant
relatives, who live at Oak Knoll, Danvers, Mass., where he has passed
the most of his time the last few years. It is a most beautiful place,
and the poet takes great delight in it, preferring it even to his own
home at Amesbury, where he lived so long and where the greater part of
his literary work was done. The house and grounds remind one of an old
English manor-house and its surroundings. The old forest trees still
beautify it, while clumps of evergreens have been planted here and
there, with many shrubs and flowers. In the distance rise the blue hills
of Essex and Middlesex, and near at hand babbles a noisy brook, seeking
the not distant sea. All the beautiful trees of New England grow
here,--hickories, chestnuts, maples, birches, pines, and beeches; and
Whittier, who is a famous lover of trees, passes much time in these
shady coverts.

Mr. Whittier's own house at Amesbury is a plain white painted wooden
house, consisting of an upright and ell, like many old-fashioned
farm-houses, and surrounded by a picket-fence. It is roomy and
comfortable, and the study is a very cosey and attractive place, with
its open wood-fire and its well-filled book-shelves. One familiar with
its appearance thus describes it:--

"One side is filled with a desk and books, among which Irish
ballads have a place of honor; and an old-fashioned Franklin
fireplace with polished brasses throws its cheerful blaze over
carpet, lounge, and easy-chairs, and on walls covered with many
souvenirs,--a water-color of Harry Fenn's, Hill's picture of the
early home, fringed gentians painted by Lucy Larcom, and other
trifles which give character to the room. In this nook the 'lords