Whittier at close range

In the garden room, worthy synonym of a poet’s study where blossom flowers of thought and beauty, a young neighbor of the poet awaited his coming.

His easy chair stood with bookshelves on the right hand, whence he could gather from them as he pleased--although books were scattered everywhere over the house--and at its left was the table between the windows looking into the garden, while opposite it stood the door from the little hall, so that the chair faced all who entered the room. She looked across the room at a painting of a California sunset--Starr King’s gift to the poet. Near the painting was the engraving of an Arctic scene sent to the poet and his sister Elizabeth by Dr. Kane on his return from his Arctic explorations. She remembered how for a long time the picture had failed to appear, and how when a duplicate had been sent and hung, this first picture had at last arrived, and had been given by Miss Whittier to one of her Amesbury friends.

The poet had banished from the garden room a fine oil painting of himself in his youth, a striking portrait, full of individuality, yet bearing a suggestion of Burns. But it was not strange that one poet should recall the other, since there was in some respects a marked resemblance in the moods and ideals of the two; while in character and life they were as far asunder as the poles.