re conquered the repugnance he may have felt, and he
soon got on well with all classes of the little community which
surrounded him. By his first wife he had no children. But five, three
daughters and two sons, blessed his union with Sarah Wendell, the
accomplished daughter of the Hon. John Wendell, of Boston. We may pass
briefly over the early years of Oliver Wendell Holmes. He was educated
at the Phillips Academy at Exeter, and subsequently entered Harvard
University, where he was graduated, with high honors, in 1829, and
belonged to that class of young fellows who, in after life, greatly
distinguished themselves. Some of his noblest poems were written in
memory of that class, such as "Bill and Joe," "A Song of Twenty-nine,"
"The Old Man Dreams," "Our Sweet Singer," and "Our Banker," all of
them breathing love and respect for the boys with whom the poet
studied and matriculated. Young Holmes was destined for the law, but
Chitty and Blackstone apparently had little charm for him, for after a
year's trial, he abandoned the field and took up medicine. His mind
could not have been much impressed with statutes, for all the time
that he was supposed to be conning over abstruse points in
jurisprudence, he was sending to the printers some of the cleverest
and most waggish contributions which have fallen from his pen. The
_Collegian_,--the university journal of those days,--published most of
these, and though no name was attached to the screeds, it was fairly
well known that Holmes was the author. The companion writers in the
_Collegian_ were Simmons, who wrote over the signature of "Lockfast";
John O. Sargent, poet and essayist, whose _nom de plume_ was "Charles
Sherry"; Robert Habersham, the "Mr. Airy" of the group; and that
clever young trifler, Theodore Snow, who delighted the readers of the
periodical with the works of "Geoffrey La Touche." Of these, of
course, Holmes was the life and soul, and though sixty years have
passed away since he enriched the columns of the _Collegian_ with the
fruits of his muse, more than half of the pieces survive, and are
deemed good enough to hold a place beside his maturer productions.
"Evening of a Sailor," "The Meeting of the Dryads," and "The Spectre
Pig,"--the latter in the vein of Tom Hood at his best,--will be
remembered as among those in the collection which may be read to-day
with the zest, appreciation, and delight which they inspired more
than half a century ago. Holmes' connection