the most
honored men of his day--he was always modest, unassuming, and even
diffident. He was the most cheerful of men, and seemed to diffuse
sunshine wherever he went. He was essentially lovable, and could hardly
be said to have made an enemy during his life. Indeed, one of his lacks
was that of aggressiveness; it would have given a deeper force to his
character and brought out some qualities that were latent in him.

He died on the 28th of November, 1859, at the close of a lovely
Indian-summer day, and was buried on a little elevation overlooking
Sleepy Hollow. Near by winds the lovely Hudson, up and down which go the
white-winged boats bearing tourists to view the river he so loved, and
over which hangs the blue haze he has so often described, softening
everything in its gauzy folds. The feet of those he loved go in and out
at Sunnyside, and his memory is a benediction.

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT.

In a fragment of autobiography which Mr. Bryant left among his papers,
he speaks thus of his childhood:--

"So my time passed in study, diversified with labor and recreation.
In the long winter evenings and the stormy winter days I read with
my brother books from my father's library,--not a large one, but
well chosen. I remember well the delight with which we welcomed the
translation of the Iliad by Pope when it was brought to the house.
I had met with passages from it before, and thought them the finest
verses ever written. My brother and myself, in emulation of ancient
heroes, made for ourselves wooden shields, swords, and spears, and
fashioned old hats in the shape of helmets, with plumes of tow; and
in the barn, when nobody observed us, we fought the battles of the
Greeks and Trojans over again.

"I was always, from my earliest years, a delighted observer of
external nature,--the splendors of a winter daybreak over the
wide wastes of snow seen from our windows; the glories of the
autumnal woods; the gloomy approaches of the thunderstorm, and its
departure amid sunshine and rainbows; the return of spring with its
flowers; and the first snowfall of winter. I cannot say, as some
do, that I found my boyhood the happiest part of my life. I had
more frequent ailments than afterward; my hopes were more feverish
and impatient, and my disappointments were more acute; the
restraint