r, O friends, your words of cheer and praise,
Half doubtful if myself or otherwise.
Like him who in the old Athenian days
A beggar slept, and crowned Caliph woke."

Although shy in formal society, Mr. Whittier is of a social nature, and
very much enjoys unrestrained intercourse with his friends. Visitors
were always made welcome at Amesbury, and while his sister presided
there the house was very attractive to those who enjoyed its
hospitality. She was a witty and bright woman, who enlivened every
social circle she graced; and Mr. Whittier himself has a fund of
delicate humor, which lights up his conversations with those with whom
he is on familiar terms, and he has a quiet way of drawing out the best
there is in others, which causes every one to appear well in his
presence. Children are his loyal and enthusiastic friends everywhere;
and he was known among them in Amesbury as "the man with the parrot,"
that remarkable bird "Charlie" serving as a sort of connecting link
between the poet and the little ones. He is always ready for a game of
romps with the children even now, and they very much admire the stately
old man who condescends to them so kindly. Long ago, when his little
niece wanted the scarlet cape which other children wore, and there was
objection upon the part of her Quaker mother, Mr. Whittier pleaded so
well for the little one that she was allowed to indulge in the bright
trappings of her mates. Mr. Whittier himself has never gone to the
extremes of Quaker dress, and could hardly be distinguished from the
world by that alone. But he uses the "thee" and "thou" of the Friends,
and it is very charming to hear them from his lips. He has always been a
faithful attendant, also, upon their meetings.

The kindliness of Mr. Whittier's nature has always led him to help
others, especially young literary aspirants, and he has spent a great
deal of his valuable time upon this class. He cannot bear to leave a
letter unanswered or a request ungranted, and his correspondence has
become very burdensome these latter years. He has long been subject to
very severe neuralgic headaches, and can write now but a few minutes at
a time; and those few precious minutes he often wastes on some
impertinent stranger who has sent a great mass of manuscripts to him for
criticism. The little time which these insatiable correspondents leave
to him, he occupies very pleasantly in and about the grounds at Oak
Knoll. He enjoys working in