Democratic Sentinel, Volume 16, Number 49, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 23 December 1892 — Oliver Wendell Holmes. [ARTICLE]

Oliver Wendell Holmes.

Since 1371 Oliver Wendell Holmes has lived in a plain red brick house in Boston. Here a great many of his late poems have been written, and here he is likely to spend the remainder of his days. Oliver Wendell Hoimes, though he does not look it, is 83 years old. Day in and day out he receives a small army of callers, who, unbidden, never fail to appear upon his doorstep. Autograph seekers, would-be poets of a tender age, older ones who will never see 60 again, but who, nevertheless, essay the ascent of the most difficult mountain that ever confronted man; young ladies in their teens, with dainty scented papers, joined with ribbons; spinsters, austere and prim, with manuscripts written in faded ink, about as intelligible as the hieroglyphics of the early Azteos—these, together with students, scientists, doctors, professors and divines, are continually seeking him. Every mail—there are some half dozen in the day—brings him letters, books and manuscripts from all parts of the oountry and, except in isolated instances, the whole of them come from people of whose very existence he was unaware. Some ask him to write a criticism, some a preface, some require a rhyme corrected, all want something done, and so fast do these aooumula' e that to use the poet’s own words, “To neglect attending to them for a day or two would mean to have my room full." In appearanoe the poet is perhaps a trifle under the medium height, and gives one the impression of being very methodical and exaot in his habits. In conversation his whole face lights up and his eyes glow. When he laughs he looks more than ever the whole-hearted man he is.