and behaved in the most amicable manner. It
was very comical to see him dance to a tune of Mr. Whittier's
whistling. His master told us that he would climb toilsomely up the
spout, pausing at every step or two to say, in a tone of the deepest
self-pity, 'Poor Charlie!' and when he reached the roof screaming
impertinently at the passers-by. The Irish children said that he
called them 'Paddies,' and threatened him with dire vengeance. Mr.
Whittier said he did not know; he 'could believe anything of that
bird.' Charlie's favorite amusement was shaking the unripe pears from
the trees in the garden; and when he saw Miss Whittier approaching, he
would steal away with drooping head, like a child caught in a naughty
action. This gifted bird afterwards died, and was much missed by the
poet, who alluded to him in the poem entitled _The Common Question_.

"Mr. Whittier showed me a couple of stuffed birds which had been sent
to him by the Emperor of Brazil, after reading his _Cry of a Lost
Soul_, in allusion to the bird in South American forests which has so
intensely mournful a note that the Indians give it a name which
signifies a lost soul. The first birds which were sent did not reach
him, and the Emperor on hearing it sent two more. The bird is larger
than a mocking bird, and has sober gray plumage, very unlike the
bright-hued creatures usually seen in tropical forests.

"The Emperor was a warm admirer of Mr. Whittier, and one of the first
persons for whom he inquired on reaching Boston was the poet. There
was some delay about their meeting and Dom Pedro became very
impatient. At last they met in a house in Boston. Dom Pedro expressed
great delight at meeting the poet, and talked with him a long time,
paying very little attention to any one else. On leaving, he asked Mr.
Whittier to accompany him downstairs, and before entering his carriage
threw his arms around the astonished poet and embraced him warmly.

"Rare and beautiful were the qualities which met in Mr. Whittier: a
singularly unworldly and sweet disposition, and unwavering love of
truth and justice, a keen sense of humor, the highest type of
courage, and a firm faith in God's goodness, which no amount of
suffering ever shook. For years he was an invalid, a martyr to severe
headaches. He once told me that he had not for a long time written
anything without suffering. The nearest and dearest of his earthly
ties had been severed by death. But he never rebelled. His lif