“With passions unruffled, untainted by pride, By reason my life let me square; The wants of my nature are cheaply supplied, And the rest are but folly and care. How vainly through infinite trouble and strife, The many their labours employ, Since all, that is truly delightful in life, Is what all if they please may enjoy. “NATHANIEL HATHORNE. “SALEM, February 13, 1817.” He wrote this with the greatest nicety, framing it in broad black lines, and ornamenting the capitals in a manner that recalls the decoration of John Hathorne’s gravestone. He composed a number of poems between his thirteenth and seventeenth years, quite as good as those of Longfellow at the same age; but after he entered Bowdoin College he dropped the practice altogether and never resumed it, although one would suppose that Longfellow’s example would have stimulated him to better efforts. Neither does he appear to have tried his hand in writing tales, as boys who have no thought of literary distinction frequently do. During the years of his lameness he sometimes invented extemporaneous stories, which invariably commenced with a voyage to some foreign country, from which his hero never returned. This shows how continually his father’s fate was in his mind, although he said nothing of it. Robert Manning’s interest in the stage-company afforded the boy fine opportunities for free rides, and he probably also frequented the stables; although neither as youth nor as man did he take much interest in driving or riding. He was more fond of playing upon the wharves, a good healthy place,--and watching the great ships sailing forth to far-off lands, and returning with their strange cargoes,--enough to stimulate any boy’s imagination, if he has it in him. It is likely that if Nathaniel’s father had lived, he would also have followed a seafaring life, and would never have become useful to the world in the way that he did.