Whittier's house, and Whittier often came in for a social chat, but
persistently refused to give a sitting. One day he came in with his
younger brother Franklin, whose picture he wanted. When it was
finished, Franklin said, "Now, Greenleaf, I want your picture." After
much persuasion Greenleaf consented, and Mr. Boutelle showed him the
plate before it was fully developed, with the remark that he thought he
could do better if he might try again. By this bit of strategy he
secured the extra daguerreotype here reproduced, but he took care not
to show it in Amesbury, for fear Whittier would call it in. He took it
to Exeter, N. H., and put it in a show-case at his door. His saloon was
burned, and all he saved was this show-case and the daguerreotype,
which many of the poet's old friends think to be his best likeness of
that period.

Several of Whittier's poems referring to New Hampshire scenery
celebrate particular trees remarkable for age and size. For these
giants of the primeval forest he ever had a loving admiration. The
great elms that shade the house in which he died would no doubt have
had tribute in verse if his life had been spared. He invited the
attention of every visitor to them. The immense pine on the Sturtevant
farm, near Centre Harbor, called out a magnificent tribute in his poem
"The Wood Giant." Our engraving on page 99 gives some idea of "the
Anakim of pines." There is a grove at Lee, N. H., on the estate of his
dearly-loved cousins, the Cartlands, to which he refers in his poem "A
Memorial:"--

"Green be those hillside pines forever,
And green the meadowy lowlands be,
And green the old memorial beeches,
Name-carven in the woods of Lee!"

There is a "Whittier Elm" at West Ossipee, and indeed wherever he chose
a summer resort, some wood giant still bears his name.

[Illustration: THE CARTLAND HOUSE, NEWBURYPORT

Where Whittier spent the last winter of his life. A century ago the
residence of the father of Harriet Livermore.]

Visitors to Whittier-Land will find an excursion to Oak Knoll, in
Danvers, to be full of interest. Here the poet, after the marriage of
his niece, spent a large part of each of the last fifteen years of his
life in the family of his cousins, the Misses Johnson and Mrs. Woodman.
Without giving up his residence in Amesbury, where his house was always
kept open for him during these years by Hon. George W. Cate, he found
in the beautiful seclusion of the fine es