John Harrison Wilson, The life of Charles Henry Dana

Such readers as may desire to know more about the detail of this novel but Utopian association, will find an interesting account of it in Lindsay Swift's Brook Farm, from which what I have said in this narrative has been largely drawn.

Whatever may have been its influence on others, it was undoubtedly of substantial advantage to Charles A. Dana. This is clearly shown not only by his subsequent career, but by the following verbal quotation from Mr. Swift's book, for which I desire to express my acknowledgments to the author and to his publishers, the Macmillan Company:

Dana seems not to have defied worldly custom either in the matter of blouses or unusual hair; in fact, he was not especially responsive to the little caprices of his fellows, and seldom joined in the merriment, but was always on hand for the serious affairs, having been made a trustee soon after his arrival. He not only worked and taught well, but sang well, and was bass in a choir which, according to Arthur Sumner, sang a “Kyrie Eleison” night and day. “It seems to me,” adds Sumner, “that they sang it rather often.” One admirable bit of training for his future profession Dana acquired through his connection with the Harbinger, to which he was a frequent contributor. Many of his articles were youthful and imitative-hardly better than any well-brought — up young fellow might produce. The mannerisms of the sturdy English reviewing of the day sat heavily upon him, and he was constantly dismissing the victims of his disapproval with the familiar conge of the British quarterlies. Short poems and literary notices formed the major part of his work, but it is unnecessary to particularize the amount or quality of what he did. It was all excellent practice. Poe, Cooper, and Anthon were his youthful hatreds.

According to Colonel Higginson, the “Professor” was “the best all-round man at Brook Farm, but was held not to be quite so zealous or unselfish for the faith as were some of the others,” though his speeches in Boston and elsewhere were