e and in the unerring precision with which they were
selected. I recall him at a very impressive moment. Many regard
Lowell's _Commemoration Ode_, read at the Commemoration in 1865
of the Harvard soldiers who had taken part in the Civil War, as the
high-water mark of American poetry. Whether or not that claim is just
I shall not debate, but it is a great composition and perhaps Lowell's
best. The occasion was indeed a noble one. A multitude had collected
in the college-yard and through it wound the brilliant procession
of soldiers who had taken part in the war, marching to the drum and
wearing for the last time the uniform in which they had fought. From
Major-Generals and Admirals down to the high privates, all were in
blue, and the sun glittered resplendent on epaulet and lace worn
often by men who walked with difficulty, halting from old wounds. The
exercises in the church, the singing of Luther's hymn, _A Mighty
Fortress is our God_, the oration and the impressive prayer of
Phillips Brooks were finished. The assembly collected under the great
tent which filled the quadrangle formed by the street, Harvard and
Hollis Halls and Holden Chapel. I sat at the corner by the side
of Phillips Brooks. He was the Chaplain of the day and I had been
honoured by a commission to speak for the rank and file. The speeches,
though not always happy, preserved a good level of excellence. At
length came Lowell. He stood with his back toward Hollis about midway
of the space. He was then in his best years, brown-haired, dark-eyed,
rather short-necked, with a full strong beard, his intellectual face,
an Elizabethan face, surmounting a sturdy body. His manner was not
impassioned, he read from a manuscript with distinctness which could
be heard everywhere, but I do not recall that his face kindled or his
voice trembled. Even in the more elevated passages, I think we
hardly felt as he proceeded that it was the culmination of the day's
utterances and that we were really then and there in an epoch-making
event. Unfortunately for me my speech was yet to come and, unpractised
as I was, I was uncomfortably nervous as to what I should say. I
lost therefore the full effect of the masterpiece. One or two of the
speakers on the programme had dropped out and behold it was my
turn. The announcement of my name with a brief introduction from the
chairman struck my ear, and it was for me to stand on my feet and do
my best. My voice sounded out into the great