The other
day an old man called at my house and inquired for me. He was bent,
and could just creep along. When he came in he said: 'How do you do,
sir; do you recollect your old teacher Mr. ----?' I did, perfectly! He
sat and talked awhile about indifferent subjects, but I saw something
rising in his throat, and I knew it was that whipping. After a while
he said, 'I came to ask your forgiveness for whipping you once when I
was in anger; perhaps you have forgotten it, but I have not.' It had
weighed upon his mind all these years! He must be rid of it before
lying down to sleep peacefully."
Speaking of dining at Taft's, an excellent eating-house at Point
Shirley for fish and game, Dr. Holmes said: "The host himself is worth
seeing. He is the one good _un_cooked thing at his table."
He had been to Philadelphia with one of his lectures, but he did not
have a free chance at any conversation afterward. "I did go to
Philadelphia," he said, "with _one_ remark, but I brought it back
unspoken. It struck in."
Soon after Dr. Holmes's removal to Charles Street began a long series
of early morning breakfasts at his publisher's house--feasts of the
simplest kind. Many strangers came to Boston in those days, on
literary or historical errands--men of tastes which brought them
sooner or later to the "Old Corner" where the "Atlantic Monthly" was
already a power. Of course one of the first pleasures sought for was
an interview with Dr.
Pages:
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120