or frolic which might be going on. If
anybody, young or old, appealed to him, he was always ready to answer;
and sometimes, though not very often, would join in a game or play, and
then return to his books.... I have never known him wholly unoccupied
at any time whatsoever. He was always doing something, with books, pen,
or instrument, or engaged in conversation."

Judge Story arose at seven in summer and at half past seven in
winter,--never earlier. If breakfast was not ready, he went at once to
his library, and occupied the interval, whether it was five minutes or
fifty, in writing. When the family assembled, he was called, and
breakfasted with them. After breakfast he sat in the drawing-room, and
spent from half to three quarters of an hour in reading the newspapers
of the day. He then returned to his study, and wrote until the bell
sounded for his lecture at the Law School. After lecturing for two, and
sometimes three hours, he returned to his study, and worked until two
o'clock, when he was called to dinner. To his dinner--which on his part
was always simple--he gave an hour, and then again betook himself to his
study, where in the winter time he worked as long as the daylight
lasted, unless called away by a visitor, or obliged to attend a
moot-court. Then he came down and joined the family, and work for the
day was over. During the evening he was rarely without company; but if
alone he read some new publication, sometimes corrected a proof-sheet,
listened to music, talked with the family, or played backgammon. In the
summer afternoons he left his library towards twilight. Generally the
summer afternoon was varied three or four times a week in fair weather
by a drive of about an hour in the country in an open chaise. At ten or
half past he retired for the night, never varying a half-hour from this
time. The exercise he took was almost entirely incidental to his duties,
and consisted in driving to Boston to hold his court, or attend to other
business, and in walking to and from the Law School. His real exercise
was in talking. His diet was exceedingly simple. His lectures were
wholly extemporary, or delivered without minutes, and no record was ever
made of them by himself. After an interruption of hours, and even of
days, he could take up the pen and continue a sentence which he had left
half-written, without reading back, going on with the same certainty and
rapidity as if he had never been stopped.

While Lord Je