neat in bis dress and person—never over-dressed—and his manners were equally plain and unpretending. He was totally devoid of affectation, and although shy of strangers, at times, yet this quality, springing as it did from an innate modesty, united with the most perfect good-breeding, seemed rather to set him off among strangers, and make them feel more at home in his society than if he had been over-courteous or over-familiar. I remember, upon one occasion, when I had introduced him to a very talkative publisher, who said, “Have I, at last, the pleasure of taking the great Mr. Halleck by the hand? an honor I have coveted ever since I was a boy, and got his poems by heart,” and more of that sort,—that Halleck became suddenly very deaf, put his hand to his ear to try to make out what was said to him, and with a sad, puzzled expression on his face, shook his head as if it said, Dear me, I can’t hear a word of all this, what a pity! and yet all this was done in such a kindly, gentlemanly way, that it gave no offence to the person addressing him. He was always scrupulously correct in his dealings, no matter how trifling, and practised the greatest economy, so as to preserve his independence. He often used to refer to the fact that Burns, poor as he was, and a poet to boot, died without owing any one a single penny.
“Through care and pain, and want and woe,
With wounds that only death can heal—
Tortures—the poor, alone, can know,
The proud, alone, can feel,
He kept his honesty and truth,
His independent tongue and pen,
And moved in manhood, as in youth,
Pride of his fellow-men.”
