g to his children and to his native State a name which
was honorable when he inherited it, and the lustre of which his life
increased.

[Illustration:

Yours
Myron Holley]

MYRON HOLLEY,

MARKET-GARDENER.

Fifty years ago, this man used to sell vegetables and fruit from door to
door in the streets of Rochester, N. Y. He had a small farm a few miles
out of town, upon which he raised the produce which he thus disposed of.
An anecdote is related of a fine lady who had recently come to Rochester
as the wife of one of its most distinguished clergymen. She ran up into
her husband's study one morning, and said to him:--

"Why, Doctor, I've just seen the only gentleman I have yet met with in
Rochester, and he was at our basement door selling vegetables. How
wonderful! Who is it? Who can it be?"

"It must be Myron Holley," said her husband.

Another of his lady customers used to say that he sold early peas and
potatoes in the morning with as much grace as he lectured before the
Lyceum in the evening. Nor was it the ladies alone who admired him. The
principal newspaper of the city, in recording his death in 1841, spoke
of him as "an eminent citizen, an accomplished scholar, and noble man,
who carried with him to the grave the love of all who knew him."

In reflecting upon the character of this truly remarkable person, I am
reminded of a Newfoundland dog that I once had the honor of knowing near
the spot on the shore of Lake Ontario where Myron Holley hoed his
cabbages and picked his strawberries. It was the largest and most
beautiful dog I have ever seen, of a fine shade of yellow in color, and
of proportions so extraordinary that few persons could pass him without
stopping to admire. He had the strength and calm courage of a lion, with
the playfulness of a kitten, and an intelligence that seemed sometimes
quite human. One thing this dog lacked. He was so destitute of the evil
spirit that he would not defend himself against the attacks of other
dogs. He seemed to have forgotten how to bite. He has been known to let
a smaller dog draw blood from him without making the least attempt to
use his own teeth in retaliation. He appeared to have lost the instinct
of self-assertion, and walked abroad protected solely, but sufficiently,
by his vast size and imposing appearance.

Myron Holley, I say, reminds me of this superb and noble creature. He
was a man of the finest proportions both of body and of mind, beautiful