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Holmes, Oliver Wendell, 1809-1894

"The Poet at the Breakfast-Table"


--Including cannibals and all?--said I.
-Oh, as to that, the eating of one's kind is a matter of taste, but the
roasting of them has been rather more a specialty of our own particular
belief than of any other I am acquainted with. If you broil a saint, I
don't see why, if you have a mind, you shouldn't serve him up at your--
Pop! went the little piece of artillery. Don't tell me it was accident.
I know better. You can't suppose for one minute that a boy like that one
would time his interruptions so cleverly. Now it so happened that at
that particular moment Dr. B. Franklin was not at the table. You may
draw your own conclusions. I say nothing, but I think a good deal.
--I came back to the Bunker Hill Monument.---I often think--I said--of
the dynasty which is to reign in its shadow for some thousands of years,
it may be.
The "Man of Letters," so called, asked me, in a tone I did not exactly
like, whether I expected to live long enough to see a monarchy take the
place of a republic in this country.
--No,--said I,--I was thinking of something very different. I was
indulging a fancy of mine about the Man who is to sit at the foot of the
monument for one, or it may be two or three thousand years. As long as
the monument stands and there is a city near it, there will always be a
man to take the names of visitors and extract some small tribute from
their pockets, I suppose.


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