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Holmes, Oliver Wendell, 1809-1894

"The Poet at the Breakfast-Table"

He said he was lonely, it is true,
but he said it in a manly tone, and not as if he were repining at the
inevitable condition of his devoting himself to that particular branch of
science. Of course, he is lonely, the most lonely being that lives in
the midst of our breathing world. If he would only stay a little longer
with us when we get talking; but he is busy almost always either in
observation or with his calculations and studies, and when the nights are
fair loses so much sleep that he must make it up by day. He wants
contact with human beings. I wish he would change his seat and come
round and sit by our Scheherezade!
The rest of the visit went off well enough, except that the "Man of
Letters," so called, rather snubbed some of the heavenly bodies as not
quite up to his standard of brilliancy. I thought myself that the
double-star episode was the best part of it.
I have an unexpected revelation to make to the reader. Not long after
our visit to the Observatory, the Young Astronomer put a package into my
hands, a manuscript, evidently, which he said he would like to have me
glance over. I found something in it which interested me, and told him
the next day that I should like to read it with some care. He seemed
rather pleased at this, and said that he wished I would criticise it as
roughly as I liked, and if I saw anything in it which might be dressed to
better advantage to treat it freely, just as if it were my own
production.


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