table sat Longfellow, florid, quiet, benignant, soft-voiced, a most agreeable rather than a brilliant talker, but a man upon whom it was always pleasant to look,—whose silence was better than many another man's conversation.
At the other end sat Agassiz, robust, sanguine, animated, full of talk, boy-like in his laughter.
The stranger who should have asked who were the men ranged along the sides of the table would have heard in answer the names of Hawthorne, Motley, Dana, Lowell, Whipple, Peirce, the distinguished mathematician, Judge Hoar, eminent at the bar and in the cabinet, Dwight, the leading musical critic of Boston for a whole generation, Sumner, the academic champion of freedom, Andrew, the great War Governor of Massachusetts, Dr. Howe, the philanthropist, William Hunt, the painter, with others not unworthy of such company.
We may complete the list and add the name of Holmes himself, to whose presence the club owed so much of its wit and wisdom.
In such company the guests