verses on Springfield Arsenal and the crooked Songo River, which without
Longfellow would be little or nothing. Then his fund of information was
what might be expected from a man who had lived in all the countries of
western Europe.

He had humble and unfortunate friends whom he seemed to think as much of
as though they were distinguished. He recognized fine traits of
character, perhaps real greatness of character, in out-of-the-way
places,--men whose chief happiness was their acquaintance with
Longfellow. It was something much better than charity; and Professor
Child spoke of it on the day of Emerson's funeral as the finest flower in
the poet's wreath.

Longfellow was one of the kindest friends that the Hungarian exiles found
when they came to Boston in 1852. Longfellow helped Kossuth, subscribed
to Kalapka's riding-school, and entertained a number of them at his
house. Afterwards, when one of the exiles set up a business in Hungarian
wines, Longfellow made a large purchase of him, which he spoke of twenty
years later with much satisfaction. He liked Tokay, and also the white
wine of Capri, which he regretted could not be obtained in America.

Those who supposed that Longfellow was easily imposed upon made a great
mistake. He had the reputation among his publishers of understanding
business affairs better than any author in New England; but he was almost
too kind-hearted. Somewhere about 1859 a photographer made an excellent
picture of his daughters--indeed, it was a charming group--and the man
begged Mr. Longfellow for permission to sell copies of it as it would be
of great advantage to him. Longfellow complied and the consequence was
that in 1860 one could hardly open a photograph album anywhere without
finding Longfellow's daughters in it. Then a vulgar story originated that