fter halting for prayer at the gambrel-roofed house where Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes was born.
My father's house — now occupied by Mrs. F. L.as. My special playmate, Charles Parsons, was a nephew of Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes, who was in those years studying in Europe; and in the elder Dr. Holmes's house Charles Parsons and I often tumbled about in a library, -indeed, in the very same library where the Autocrat had himsel it was my lot to become the latter.
My fellow townsman, Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes, describes himself as wandering along our native stream ws in tie-wigs or powdered hair.
We knew the very treasures which Dr. Holmes describes as gathered in his attic, and never were tired of exploBut their dust is white as hers. This poem was not yet written, but Holmes's verses on this churchyard were familiar on our lips, and we sighepitaph was carved in French.
Moreover, the ever-roaming girls whom Holmes exhorted to bend over the wall and sweep the simple lines with the