When Longfellow went to live in Cambridge he was just thirty years old. He had not then written any of the poems that are famous to-day, but he began at once to produce most of those that we love best. A good many of them were sent to the _Knickerbocker Magazine_. One of them was the “Psalm of Life,” for which he was promised five dollars, which, however, was never paid him. A poem then called “Floral Astrology,” but now known as “Flowers,” was the first to have his full name attached—“Harvard College, H. W. Longfellow.” The “Psalm of Life” was signed simply “L.” Both of these poems and “The Reaper and the Flowers” (published in the same magazine in the same way, at the same price, which was never paid) had been copied into hundreds of newspapers and were public favorites without the author’s being in the least known. His friends knew Longfellow wrote the poems, but the public did not. His cousin, John Owen, kept a bookstore in Cambridge. One day Owen went to him and told him he ought to have some of his poems printed in a little volume, and with his name. Longfellow objected to having his name appear, though he thought it might be a good idea to have the poems published if a publisher could be found. His cousin said he should like to publish them; to this Longfellow assented, but for some time refused to have his name appear. At last he said, “Well, bring them out in your own way!” That meant, with his name on the title page. That little volume, entitled “Voices of the Night,” and including the poems still printed in Longfellow’s collected works under that title, was published in 1839, when Longfellow was thirty-two years old. It contained the “Psalm of Life,” “The Reaper and the Flowers,” “The Light of Stars,” “Footsteps of Angels,” “Flowers,” “The Beleaguered City,” and “Midnight Mass to the Dying Year.” There were also some translations, and a few of the poems he had published while in college. That book made Longfellow famous as a poet. A few critics found fault with it, but not many, and hundreds of others liked it and praised it. Longfellow himself tells a pretty story of the “Psalm of Life.” “I was once riding in London,” said he, “when a laborer approached the carriage and asked, ‘Are you the writer of the “Psalm of Life?”’ ‘I am.’ ‘Will you allow me to shake hands with you?’ We clasped hands warmly. The carriage passed on, and I saw him no more; but I remember that as one of the most gratifying compliments I ever received, because it was so sincere.” In a published letter from Charles Sumner, there is another touching story of the power this wonderful poem possesses over men.