One other thing remains to be said of his college life. Though rich, he was generous toward his poorer classmates, and at the same time very modest and quiet about it. Here is one case, and there are a good many others. There was a student who had worked hard to finish his college course; but one day he received word that owing to the death of his father he would have to leave college and earn his own living; the family could spare him no more money to help him through. This was sad news to him, for he had great ambitions and hopes concerning his future career. A friend of his, belonging to the class below Longfellow’s, went to the poet and asked him if he would not head a subscription, or do something of the kind. At this time the poet had been contributing pretty regularly to the _United States Literary Gazette_, and had never received any pay for it. Many of the poems had been copied in the daily and weekly papers. He wrote a note to the editor saying that he thought he deserved in the future to be paid for his contributions. His intention was to give the money to his college mate. But the editor replied that poems were generally printed gratis, and made some vague promises. This was a disappointment; but the classmate who tells the story, Longfellow, and his brother Stephen drew up a subscription paper, put down such sums as they could afford, and passed the document about among the college men. Enough money was raised to carry the poor fellow through his college course. “For some reason or other,” says his cousin John Owen, “the poet never liked to speak of this act of his earlier career. He and I have talked about it, to be sure; but one day he suggested that the subject be forever dropped. It was one of his peculiar habits—always to be doing some one a favor, and to wish that it be kept a profound secret.” CHAPTER VI THE YOUNG PROFESSOR When Longfellow graduated from college he was a young man of nineteen, slender, well built, and graceful. He had blue eyes and light-brown hair which he wore rather heavy about his head. In his dress he was somewhat fastidious, and afterward certain people were inclined to make fun of his variety of neckties and light vests. But he always showed the best of taste. His father wished him to be a lawyer. But in the year that he graduated a new professorship was founded at Bowdoin, the professorship of modern languages, and he was chosen to fill it. Before that, Latin and Greek had been considered the only languages worth studying. But French, German, Italian, and Spanish were demanding attention.