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h he saved toward paying off the mortgage on his father's farm, and he could avail himself of the Boston libraries which then seemed to him large, though they would now appear small.
Then for six months he edited the Haverhill Gazette, and also contributed to the New England Review of Hartford, Conn., then edited by the once famous wit and dashing writer, George D. Prentice.
The latter afterward transferred the editorship of the New England Review to Whittier, he himself having gone to Lexington, Ky., to write the Life of Henry Clay, who was expecting a nomination for the Presidency.
Nothing in the relation between Prentice and Whittier — the reckless man of the world and the shy young Quaker — seems quite so amusingly inappropriate as Prentice's first letter to him, ere they had even met. It runs thus:
Whittier, I wish you were seated by my side, for I assure you that my situation, just now, is very much to my particular satisfaction.
Here am I in my hotel, with a good-natur
d early ventures
The whole story of Whittier's beginnings as a poet is like something from an old-fashioned German novel of Friendship — for instance, by Jean Paul — it was the casual discovery of a gifted boy by another barely grown to manhood, this leading to a life-long friendship, occasionally clouded for a time by decided differences of opinion and action.
William Lloyd Garrison, a young printer's apprentice, just embarked at twenty-one on a weekly newspaper in his native town of Newburyport, near Haverhill, published in the twelfth number some verses entitled The Exile's departure and signed W., Haverhill, June 1, 1826 ; verses to which the young editor appended this note, If W.
at Haverhill will continue to favour us with pieces as beautiful as the one inserted in our poetical department of to-day, we shall esteem it a favour.
The poem itself, now interesting chiefly as a milestone, is as follows:--
Fond scenes, which have delighted my youthful existence, With feelings o