Readers of Whittier’s poems will recall one “On a Sun Dial,” beginning
“With warning hand I mark Time’s rapid flight.”
In regard to this inscription, Dr. Henry I. Bowditch wrote his friend in Amesbury—Whittier’s physician—under date of December 30, 1854:
“Warm regards to Whittier, and tell him I still hope for the inscription for my old dial—that is, I wish if you have a fair chance you would gently allude to my hopes; but, pray, do not let him think me troublesome about it. I think I could get one from H——, or F——, but I would prefer Whittier to any other that I know.”
Apparently, the “gentle allusion” must have been made with success—judging from the following extract of January fifteenth, 1855, about two weeks later. “The more I read Whittier’s lines,” wrote Bowditch to the doctor, “the more I admire them. Everybody is delighted with them, and I am obliged to give copies in every direction.”
With Bowditch’s noble character, his delightful enthusiasm and anti-slavery zeal, his frankness and charm, it was not to be wondered at that the admiration of the two men was reciprocal. There comes to mind the speech of the poet, after looking long and earnestly at a photograph of Dr. Bowditch. He glanced up at last to say that it made him think of one of the old Greek fathers.
Those who knew Whittier well remember the suddenness of his leave-takings. For, no matter how tranquilly he was seated and how absorbed in his subject he appeared, one could never be sure that the next moment he would not rise, make his adieus, and be off, all in a breath.
Somebody asked him one day why he always took leave so suddenly? He answered that the habit came from early training, that his father did not like prolixity—no, nor did his father’s son! Indeed, one day Whittier talking of himself, said that as he grew older he could perceive traits of his father coming out more strongly in himself.
It was the same way with his journeys. An announcement at the breakfast table would often be the first intimation that his bag was packed for the next train. That alertness distinguished him to the very last. He knew what he wanted and went straight to the mark.