It was given him and he took it over to the other paper, the _Portland Gazette_, by whose editor it was accepted and immediately published over the signature “Henry.” Here are the first two stanzas: Cold, cold is the north wind and rude is the blast That sweeps like a hurricane loudly and fast, As it moans through the tall waving pines, lone and drear, Sighs a requiem sad o’er the warrior’s bier. The war-whoop is still, and the savage’s yell Has sunk into silence along the wild dell; The din of the battle, the tumult is o’er, And the war-clarion’s voice is now heard no more. After that the young poet could have his verses printed in that paper as often as he liked, and he wrote a number of pieces for this purpose. He went to Portland Academy, and was ready to enter college at fourteen. One of his teachers at the academy, who, no doubt, did a great deal to impress his young mind, was Jacob Abbott, the author of the “Rollo Books.” Some years ago these were the most popular books for boys and girls then known, and perhaps some of the young people of this generation have read them. If they have, they will know what fine books they are. CHAPTER IV SOMETHING ABOUT THE TIMES WHEN LONGFELLOW WAS YOUNG In the days when Longfellow was a child, people were just changing from the old fashioned style of living to ways that were new and more modern. The older men wore knee breeches and silk stockings, and shoes with big buckles, and had their long hair gathered in a knot or “club” behind. Those were strict Puritan days, too. Everybody was very careful about going to church and keeping Sunday, and theaters were prohibited until a few years later. They do say, however, that the people drank a good deal of Jamaica rum and did other things that we should not approve of to-day. Portland was quite a seaport, and had formerly enjoyed great business prosperity. But in the year that Longfellow was born, the embargo was put on shipping, and severe “hard times” came on. It is said “the grass literally grew upon the wharves.” Five years after his birth, came the war of 1812. Fortifications were thrown up on Munjoy’s Hill, and privateers were fitted out in the harbor. In his beautiful poem, “My Lost Youth,” Longfellow refers to this. This poem is very interesting when we think of the actual places to which Longfellow refers. Of course he is thinking of Portland when he writes: Often I think of the beautiful town That is seated by the sea; ... I can see the shadowy lines of its trees, And catch, in sudden gleams, The sheen of the far-surrounding seas, And islands that were the Hesperides Of all my boyish dreams. ... I remember the black wharves and the slips, And the sea-tides tossing free; And Spanish sailors with bearded lips, And the beauty and mystery of the ships, And the magic of the sea.