Edward told him he was going to his hotel to think over the day's
events.
The poet laughed and said:
"Now, listen to my plan. Boston is strange to you. Now we're going to
the theatre this evening, and my plan is that you come in now, have a
little supper with us, and then go with us to see the play. It is a
funny play, and a good laugh will do you more good than to sit in a
hotel all by yourself. Now, what do you think?"
Of course the boy thought as Longfellow did, and it was a very happy
boy that evening who, in full view of the large audience in the immense
theatre, sat in that box. It was, as Longfellow had said, a play of
laughter, and just who laughed louder, the poet or the boy, neither
ever knew.
Between the acts there came into the box a man of courtly presence,
dignified and yet gently courteous.
"Ah! Phillips," said the poet, "how are you? You must know my young
friend here. This is Wendell Phillips, my boy. Here is a young man
who told me to-day that he was going to call on you and on Phillips
Brooks to-morrow.
Pages:
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93