The services at the grave were attended by only the relatives and most intimate friends. It was the wish of Doctor Holmes and his family that he should rest beside his wife in the Jackson lot at Mt. Auburn. It is in the immediate vicinity of the Holmes' lot, amidst the beautiful oaks that the poet loved; and only a few yards distant rest Longfellow and James Russell Lowell. * * * * * The life of Oliver Wendell Holmes spanned nearly the whole nineteenth century; and to the very last he kept abreast of the feeling, the thought, the movement, of the day. He was one of the few men of our generation who raised the American name in the esteem of the whole world. Comparing Doctor Holmes with his four illustrious contemporaries in literature, Professor Norton says:-- "Emerson was the deepest thinker of them all; Longfellow possessed in a rare degree the power of felicitous expression, and gave us thoughts couched in the most beautiful poetry; Whittier was the apostle of freedom, fearless, and moved by an untiring purpose; Lowell was a man of versatile genius, as great in the field of poetry as he was in that of prose. "Holmes was one who wrote without effort. His was a ready genius. His thoughts came unbidden, and he had but to give them expression in words. Apt, vivacious, animated, pure, happy, he always was at once a wit and a humorist, but greater in his wit than in his humor. Whatever his subject, he wrote of it with equal ability, and his books are remarkable for the variety of topics which he has treated so easily." Of all his poems, Doctor Holmes ranked "The Chambered Nautilus" highest. "I wrote that poem," he said, "at white heat. When it was finished I took it to my wife, who was sewing in an adjoining room, and said, 'I think I have the best poem here that I have ever written.' And I have never changed my mind about it." By universal consent, indeed, "The Chambered Nautilus" is considered the gem of Doctor Holmes' beautiful lyrics. The poet always kept in his study specimens of the nautilus shell, cut entirely across, to show the spiral ascent of its curious inhabitant. He delighted to show these shells to his visitors; and, as he replaced them on the shelves, he would often repeat the last stanza of his beautiful poem:-- Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul, As the swift seasons roll; Leave thy low-vaulted past; Let each new temple, loftier than the last, Shut thee from heaven with a dome more vast, Till thou at length art free, Leaving thine out-grown shell by life's unresting sea. Among the poems of Oliver Wendell Holmes are seven that may truly be called "Hymns;" and it is well to remember that the test of the use and value of a hymn is not the occasion for which it was written, but its adoption into hymnal collections, and its use thereafter.