His kindness and love of humor carried him through many a tedious
interruption. He generously overlooked the fact of the subterfuges to
which men and women resorted in order to get an interview, and to help
them out made as much of their excuses as possible. Speaking one day
of the persons who came to see him at Nahant, he said: "One man, a
perfect stranger, came with an omnibus full of ladies. He descended,
introduced himself, then returning to the omnibus took out all the
ladies, one, two, three, four, and five, with a little girl, and
brought them in. I entertained them to the best of my ability, and
they stayed an hour. They had scarcely gone when a forlorn woman in
black came up to me on the piazza, and asked for a dipper of water.
'Certainly,' I replied, and went to fetch her a glass. When I brought
it she said, 'There is another woman just by the fence who is tired
and thirsty; I will carry this to her.' But she struck her head as she
passed through the window and spilled the water on the piazza. 'Oh,
what have I done!' she said. 'If I had a floor-cloth, I would wipe it
up.' 'Oh, no matter about the water,' I said, 'if you have not hurt
yourself.' Then I went and brought more water for them both, and sent
them on their way, at last, refreshed and rejoicing." Once Longfellow
drew out of his pocket a queer request for an autograph, saying "that
the writer loved poetry in most any style, and would he please copy
his 'Break, break, break' for the writer?" He also described in a note
a little encounter in the street, on a windy day, with an elderly
French gentleman in company with a young lady, who introduced them to
each other. The Frenchman said:--

"'Monsieur, vous avez un fils qui fait de la peinture.'

"'Oui, monsieur.'