GRATEFUL TOKENS.

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permanent recognition thereof.1 These took various forms, according to the taste or means of the donors; and Dr. Warren's family still preserve numerous works of art in gold, silver, bronze, or other material, wrought into shapes of beauty well pleasing to a cultivated mind. From Mrs. Isaac P. Davis came a valuable picture by an old Spanish master; from another friend a group exquisitely modelled in bronze by Barbedienne; from a third, a statuette of Lorenzo de' Medici; from another, a silver dish of great value and elegance. The relatives of Daniel Webster presented him with a handsome salver of solid silver, as an acknowledgment of those assiduities which he was so glad to bestow on their illustrious father during his last illness. These and various other reminders of the deference and affection paid to Dr. Warren are now guarded by his children as heirlooms to be forever cherished.2

Nor was the high opinion of Dr. Warren which was entertained by those who were able to offer such costly

1 Not a few families had been from one generation to another under the care of the Warrens, so that they might almost have been termed the hereditary patients of Dr. Mason Warren. In such cases as these the mutual interest was firm and deep, and rarely did it succumb to any alien influence. Under date of Oct. 29, 1865, Dr. Warren writes in his journal: "Mrs. Doggett says that her grandmother was attended by Gen. Joseph Warren, her mother by John Warren, and she has been attended by my father and myself. She is eighty-four years old, and still well. Took Collins to see her."

2 The reader may not be uninterested to learn that Dr. Warren's fees were unusually small, and to the practitioners of this generation would appear in many instances absurdly so. He disliked anything like an undue estimate of his abilities, and really charged much less than others for his professional work. When his health began to fail, and it was suggested by some of his intimate friends among the fraternity that he ought to ask more and work less, he peremptorily refused even to take it into consideration. He derived one of his choicest pleasures from the gratified and unconcealed delight manifested by some at the small amount of their bills. In his journal one reads: '1859, Nov. 17. - Rev. Dr. - left me yesterday well, and insisted on paying me one hundred and fifty dollars, though I asked him only fifty." One day a Western man came in, and after finding great relief from a somewhat complicated operation, expressed his astonishment at the small amount of the fee required. It was but ten dollars, and to pay it he produced two bills of fifty dollars each, evidently expecting to have been called upon for both of them. Instances like these were very liberally scattered along Dr. Warren's path to the end of his days.

gifts in any degree lessened by their knowledge that he was just to all, and quite as willing to bestow his skill and his kindly attentions upon the poor as well as upon the rich. To the former he was in fact particularly courteous and generous, abounding in provisions for their comfort and never overlooking even the humblest of them. He assumed no airs of patronage, but, careful of their feelings, treated them with a politeness-that true politeness which, like great thoughts, comes from the heart— which increased their self-respect while it did not lower his own, since it made them sensible of a common manhood and tended to raise them to a higher self-respect. Understanding that which was due to himself, Dr. Warren was equally mindful of that which was due to others, and was prompt to render it. He had in perfection the art of rendering to every one what was socially his right, and in any company where he might be placed was the master of an easy good-breeding. The gratitude of his less prosperous patients was very agreeable to Dr. Warren, and was displayed with as great strength and frequency by them as by others more favored. They could not present him with silver or gold, but they were ready to manifest their thanks by such means as they possessed. Now and again messages quivering with fluent gratitude would come to him from one or another of his beneficiaries; at times halting lines of uncouth though expressive poetry, or letters quaintly worded but rich with affluence of creditable feeling. In these he would often find a quiet enjoyment, flowing both from the fervor of their acknowledgments and from the unwitting drollery of their style and language. Says one:

"All I can offer is my fervent thanks and deep and heartfelt gratitude, which will cease only with my life. If the consciousness that you will always live in the hearts of those who through your benevolence have been raised from despondency and made to rejoice can afford you satisfaction, it is yours."

To this it may not be amiss to add one further testimony to the excellences of Dr. Warren's character, the interest in which is not a little increased by the thought that it was written in the face of impending death.

DR. WARREN:

DEAR SIR,I feel as if I could not die without expressing some of the feelings which I have toward you. Your kindness and attention to our family, the sympathy always expressed (to say nothing of your generosity), have made you in my eyes, even from a child, the object of heartfelt respect and sincere affection. Your kind attentions to my brothers, and, above all, to my mother, now that they have gone, I have thought of much in this my last sickness; and as to-day is the last that I expect to see on earth I cannot refrain from leaving this line for you.

When I saw your name among those who so narrowly escaped death on the Norwalk Railroad, and that you sailed in the steamer which followed the ill-fated "Arctic" rather than in her, I could not but feel that if guardian angels are appointed to watch over those loved on earth, some of my family were among those permitted by God to watch over you, and I well know they would want no more welcome mission.

I have been very sick the past month. Great would have. been the comfort to me to have seen you, and have had your skill and experience in my case, which has been peculiar in many of its features; but I could not think of taxing you with all your cares to come out and see me.

I can leave no better wish for you and yours than that the same glorious hope which has sustained me in my sufferings, and renders this the happiest day of my life, may be yours when called to that hour to which I am now looking forward. With much love I am your faithful friend,

BROOKLINE, Feb. 26, 1855.

Dr. Warren's constant tenderness of heart made him peculiarly sensible to every form of misery or sorrow. Each example of this which came under his notice impressed him as a sort of personal appeal which he found it almost impossible to resist, nor, had he been able to

resist, would he have done so, as a liberal charity was with him a matter of conscience. His purse, his tongue, his skilful hand, his generous sympathies, were invariably at the service of poverty, sickness, or other phase of human distress. Not a ripple of trouble moved across his vision that he did not try to still it. Many a time and oft it was his fortune to excite in natures apparently apathetic a torrent of feeling that would find vent in burning language which through the fulness of its utterance would show how deeply the heart had been touched, both by his well-directed energy and by his cordial and sincere beneficence. Having once been summoned to the help of an Irish boy whose hip had been dislocated while trying to save a child from a runaway horse, Dr. Warren performed the operation with his usual success, setting the bone, and doing all in his power to allay the pain and to comfort the fears of the sufferer. Not satisfied with this, as he noticed that the boy had more intelligence than most of his class, he explained with much minuteness the nature of the injury, and instructed him how to favor the injured part and thus aid his recovery; afterwards even showing him a skeleton that he might more clearly comprehend the anatomy of his body. All this he did in an interested and enthusiastic way that revealed his native goodness of heart, and actually drew tears of gratitude from the poor fellow's eyes in acknowledgment of a kindness such as he had never before witnessed, still less experienced.

CHAPTER XVIII.

DR. WARREN'S YOUTHFUL SYMPATHIES. HIS CHILDREN. 66 MOUNT WARREN."— AN IDEAL HOME. HIS SENSE

OF HUMOR AND DESCRIPTIVE POWERS.

DROLLERIES

- AN ADMIRABLE STORY-TELLER. RESEMBLANCE ΤΟ DR.

THE

THURSDAY EVENING CLUB.

JOHN WARREN.

DR. WARREN retained to the end of his days a large share of that simple childlike nature which has so often. been observed in eminent men from the remotest times, and which had been characteristic of him from his youth. The company of children pleased him well, and he derived a peculiar gratification from listening to their droll remarks and studying their ways. With a relish that never tired he loved to unbend in their society for the moment and become himself a child. He always had "a great dash of the boy" still in him, -the outcome of perennial youth of mind, of heart, of soul. Its development caused him rare and healthy delight. With the young he was as popular as with those of his own age. They liked him, and gladly received him at once into their little confidences, expanding in the sunlight of his genial nature, and overflowing with returning love for the attentions he bestowed upon them. Nor was there in all this intercourse aught undignified or puerile, nor did he cease to win their respect, though for the time he and they were on an equal footing of cordiality and friendship. Their sports drew forth his lively consideration; and especially did he unite in their love of the country and the myriad