ellow.

"Can you say grace in Dutch?" he asked, as they sat down; and the boy
did.

"Well," the poet declared, "I never expected to hear that at my table. I
like the sound of it."

Then while the boy told all that he knew about the Netherlands, the poet
told the boy all about his poems. Edward said he liked "Hiawatha."

"So do I," he said. "But I think I like 'Evangeline' better. Still," he
added, "neither one is as good as it should be. But those are the things
you see afterward so much better than you do at the time."

It was a great event for Edward when, with the poet nodding and smiling
to every boy and man he met, and lifting his hat to every woman and
little girl, he walked through the fine old streets of Cambridge with
Longfellow. At one point of the walk they came to a theatrical
bill-board announcing an attraction that evening at the Boston Theatre.
Skilfully the old poet drew out from Edward that sometimes he went to
the theatre with his parents. As they returned to the gate of "Craigie
House" Edward said he thought he would go back to Boston.

"And what have you on hand for this evening?" asked Longfellow.

Edward told him he was going to his hotel to think over the day's
events.

The poet laughed and said:

"Now, listen to my plan. Boston is strange to you. Now we're going to
the theatre this evening, and my plan is that you come in now, have a
little supper with us, and then go with us to see the play. It is a
funny play, and a good laugh will do you more good than to sit in a
hotel all by yourself. Now, what do you think?"

Of course the boy thought as Longfellow did, and it was a very happy boy
that evening who, in full view of the large audience in the immense
theatre, sat in that box. It was, as Longfellow had said, a play of
laughter, and just who laughed louder, the poet or the boy, neither ever
knew.

Between the acts there came into the box a man of courtly presence,
dignified and yet gently courteous.

"Ah! Phillips," said the poet, "how are you? You must know my young
friend here. This is Wendell Phillips, my boy. Here is a young man who
told me to-day that he was going to call on you and on Phillips Brooks
to-morrow. Now you know him before he comes to you."

"I shall be glad to see you, my boy," said Mr. Phillips. "And so you are
going to see Phillips Brooks? Let me tell you something about Brooks. He
has a great many books in his library which are full of his marks and
comment