ished mien, or of a more inborn dignity and elegance of
address. His person was very finely proportioned, his carriage chivalric
and high-bred, and his countenance purely and brightly intellectual.
Add to this a sweet voice, a stamp of high courtesy on everything he
uttered, and singular simplicity and taste in dress, and you have the
portrait of one who, in other days, would have been the mirror of
chivalry, and the flower of nobles and troubadours. Hillhouse was no
less distinguished in oratory.

... Hillhouse had fallen upon days of thrift, and many years of his life
which he should have passed either in his study, or in the councils of
the nation, were enslaved to the drudgery of business. His constitution
seemed to promise him a vigorous manhood, however, and an old age of
undiminished fire, and when he left his mercantile pursuits, and retired
to the beautiful and poetic home of "Sachem's Wood," his friends looked
upon it as the commencement of a ripe and long enduring career
of literature. In harmony with such a life were all his
surroundings--scenery, society, domestic refinement, and
companionship--and never looked promise fairer for the realization of a
dream of glory. That he had laid out something of such a field in the
future, I chance to know, for, though my acquaintance with him was
slight, he confided to me in a casual conversation, the plan of a series
of dramas, different from all he had attempted, upon which he designed
to work with the first mood and leisure he could command. And with his
scholarship; knowledge of life, taste, and genius, what might not have
been expected from its fulfilment? But his hand is cold, and his lips
still, and his light, just rising to its meridian, is lost now to the
world. Love and honor to the memory of such a man.

* * * * *

=_Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, 1807-. _= (Manual, pp. 503, 505.)

From "Hyperion."

=_206._= THE INTERRUPTED LEGEND.

One by one the objects of our affection depart from us. But our
affections remain, and like vines stretch forth their broken, wounded
tendrils for support. The bleeding heart needs a balm to heal it; and
there is none but the love of its kind,--none but the affection of a
human heart. Thus the wounded, broken affections of Flemming began to
lift themselves from the dust and cling around this new object. Days
and weeks passed; and, like the Student Crisostomo, he ceased to love,
because he bega