They listen to the flattered bird,
The wise-looking stupid things,
And they never understand a word
Of all the robin sings.
THE POET'S FRIEND.
BY A. B. LAURENS.
An owl sat perched on the limb of a tree,
Dismally tooting up at the moon:
The stupid cattle all hastened to see
What in thunder could mean such a tune.
The owl screeched out, "'Tis a beautiful song,
But asses cannot appreciate it."
"Your song," quoth they, "is in some heathenish tongue:
Why the devil don't you translate it?"
Mr. W. T. Coggeshall, author of "Poets and Poetry of the West," and United States Consul to Brazil during Lincoln's administration, was the literary editor of the Journal when Howells became a member of its staff. Coggeshall was a man of talent and culture, and to his judicious encouragement, no doubt, Howells owes much of his early ambition for a literary career; while to the rigid discipline imposed upon him while book-reviewer on the Journal may be traced the strength of his later prose. He delved into Spanish and Italian literature, and without the aid of a tutor became proficient in both languages. His friendship with Piatt was renewed, and in December, 1859, they brought out together their first volume of poems, entitled "The Two Friends." James Russell Lowell said of it in the April Atlantic of 1860, "This volume is a very agreeable one, with little of the crudeness so generally characteristic of first ventures,—not more than enough to augur richer maturity hereafter. Piatt shows greater originality in choice of subjects, Howells more instinctive felicity of phrase in the treatment of them. … We are pleased with a thorough Western flavor in some of the poems, and welcome cordially a volume in which we recognize a fresh and authentic power, and expect confidently of the writers a yet higher achievement ere long."
Piatt was already a contributor to the Atlantic, and from the local success of "The Two Friends" Howells now speedily won a broader recognition. The story of his first successful contribution to the Atlantic has been variously told. It takes us back to St. Francis in Mrs. Jenkens's day, when W. D. Howells, A. T. Fullerton, James M. Comly, J. Q. A. Ward, Wager Swayne, and a host of ambitious young men who have since attained distinction, were numbered among her guests. Mr. A. T. Fullerton, Howells's room-mate at St. Francis, sent the first contribution from the West to the Atlantic Monthly. It was a poem entitled "By the Dead." It attracted considerable attention, and was the subject of many a disquisition among the struggling aspirants that gathered round Mrs. Jenkens's table. Fullerton encouraged Howells to send a poem to the Atlantic. He did so. It was rejected. He was greatly depressed by its failure, which he considered a disgrace. Some time after, while he was walking with a congenial friend, the conversa-
