Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife, They kept the noiseless tenor of their way. Yet even these bones from insult to protect, 75 Some frail memorial still erected nigh, With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture decked, Their name, their years, spelt by the unlettered muse, And many a holy text around she strews, For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey, On some fond breast the parting soul relies, Some pious drops the closing eye requires; Even from the tomb the voice of Nature cries, Even in our ashes live their wonted fires. For thee, who mindful of the unhonored dead If chance, by lonely contemplation led, Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate, Haply some hoary-headed swain may say, 66 Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn Brushing with hasty steps the dews away, To meet the sun upon the upland lawn. 80 85 90 95 100 "There at the foot of yonder nodding beech, "Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn, Muttering his wayward fancies he would rove; Now drooping, woeful, wan, like one forlorn, Or crazed with care, or crossed in hopeless love. "One morn I missed him on the customed hill, Along the heath, and near his favorite tree : Another came; nor yet beside the rill, Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood, was he: 105 110 "The next, with dirges due in sad array, Slow through the church-way path we saw him borne. Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn." 115 THE EPITAPH Here rests his head upon the lap of earth, Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere, He gave to Misery all he had, a tear, He gained from Heaven ('twas all he wished) a friend. No farther seek his merits to disclose, Or draw his frailties from their dread abode, (There they alike in trembling hope repose,) The bosom of his Father and his God. 120 125 CHAPTER XIII NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE, 1804-1864 'There is Hawthorne, with genius so shrinking and rare So earnest, so graceful, so solid, so fleet, Is worth a descent from Olympus to meet." - LOWELL. NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE, a brilliant and original master of English prose writing, was born in Salem, Mass., July 4, 1804. On account of feeble health, he lived during his youth on a farm in Maine. He graduated at Bowdoin College in 1825, in the same class with Longfellow. He began to write at an early age. His first publication was a collection of stories he had written for periodicals, entitled "Twice-told Tales," published in 1837. This work, at first, made no impression on the public. A second volume appeared in 1842. From 1838 to 1841 he held a position in the Boston Customhouse, afterwards a similar place in Salem. His "Blithedale Romance" appeared in 1852. Shortly after, he married and went to live in Concord, Mass., in the old parsonage which he has made historic by his "Mosses from an Old Manse." In 1846, while living at Salem, he wrote his best-known romance, "The Scarlet Letter," which established his reputation. It is the most powerful and picturesque work of the kind in American literature. After losing his office at Salem, he removed to Lenox, Mass., where he wrote his "House of the Seven Gables." After his friend and classmate, Franklin Pierce, became President, Hawthorne was appointed consul to Liverpool. Upon his return home, "The Marble Faun " was published. He wrote at different times several juvenile works, as the "Wonder Book," "Tanglewood Tales," "True Stories from History and Biography," all of which bear the im press of the genius of their author. During the last few years of his life, his health was delicate. He died suddenly at Plymouth, N. H., in 1864, while on a journey with ex-President Pierce. Hawthorne is regarded as one of the foremost writers of prose in English literature. His genius was unique. In his peculiar field, he stands alone. He delighted to depict in his marvelous style the dark side of human nature. He loved to delineate and to lay bare the intricacies of human passion. NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE Hawthorne was a shy and reserved man, but possessed of many kind and lovable traits. His intimate friends cherished him with loving admiration and sincere friendship. He had a strong physical frame, and a tall stature. He had broad shoulders, a deep chest, and a massive head. His gray-blue eyes were large and lustrous. His hair was dark brown, and of remarkable fineness; his skin delicate, giving unusual softness to his complexion. His In all business matters he was the soul of honor. fault was that he attributed to other people a sense of honor equal to his own. LITTLE ANNIE'S RAMBLE [From "Twice-told Tales"] DINGDONG! Dingdong! Dingdong! The town-crier has rung his bell at a distant corner, and little Annie stands on her father's doorsteps, trying to hear what the man with the loud voice is talking about. Let me listen too. Oh! he is telling the people that an elephant, and a lion, and a royal tiger, and a horse with horns, and other strange beasts from foreign countries have come to town, and will receive all visitors who choose to wait upon them. Perhaps little Annie would like to go. Yes; and I can see that the pretty child is weary of this wide and pleasant street, with the green trees flinging their shade across the quiet sunshine, and the pavements and the sidewalks all as clean as if the housemaid had just swept them with her broom. She feels that impulse to go strolling away that longing after the mystery of the great world which many children feel, and which I felt in my childhood. Little Annie shall take a ramble with me. See! I do but hold out my hand, and like some bright bird in the sunny air, with her blue silk frock fluttering upwards from her white pantalets, she comes bounding on tiptoe across the street. Smooth back your brown curls, Annie, and let me tie on your bonnet, and we will set forth. What a strange couple to go on their rambles together! One walks in black attire, with a measured step, and a heavy brow, and his thoughtful eyes bent down, while the gay little girl trips lightly along, as if she were forced to keep hold of my hand, lest her feet should dance away from the |