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Holmes, Oliver Wendell, 1809-1894

"The Poet at the Breakfast-Table"

I had
to inform him that that fold of rural innocence had long ceased offering
its hospitalities to the legislative, flock. He found refuge at last, I
have learned, in a great public house in the northern section of the
city, where, as he said, the folks all went up stairs in a rat-trap, and
the last I heard of him was looking out of his somewhat elevated
attic-window in a northwesterly direction in hopes that he might perhaps
get a sight of the Grand Monadnock, a mountain in New Hampshire which I
have myself seen from the top of Bunker Hill Monument.
The Member of the Haouse seems to have been more in a hurry to find a new
resting-place than the other boarders. By the first of January, however,
our whole company was scattered, never to meet again around the board
where we had been so long together.
The Lady moved to the house where she had passed many of her prosperous
years. It had been occupied by a rich family who had taken it nearly as
it stood, and as the pictures had been dusted regularly, and the books
had never been handled, she found everything in many respects as she had
left it, and in some points improved, for the rich people did not know
what else to do, and so they spent money without stint on their house and
its adornments, by all of which she could not help profiting.


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