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Updated: May 17, 2025
In the pleasant, friendly family circle of the Richmonds, he sat during those chill November evenings, seeing pictures in the glowing fire, as he held sweet "Annie's" sympathetic hand in his, while the only sound that broke the silence was the ticking of the grandfather's clock in a shadowy corner. Thus quietly, patiently, he waited. But in Providence the Griswold poison was at work.
The Goodrich Readers published by Morton & Griswold in Louisville, Ky., were perhaps the most constant competitors with the McGuffey Readers in the early years throughout the states of the Mississippi Valley. These were prepared by S.G. Goodrich, the author of the then popular "Peter Parley Tales."
They came in twos and threes, their laughter as light and clear as the tinkle of their sleigh-bells. And Rufus Griswold was there. The Dreamer with his deep reverence for intellectual ability had a sincere admiration for Dr. Griswold though he did say he was "no poet." He desired the approval the friendship of this brainy man and was proud and happy to have him of his party.
While she was gone I made some inquiries and learned that the house was occupied by a Mr. Thomas Q. Griswold. I don't know anything else about him; Blair may have learned something. "Now comes the curious part of it," and Hastings looked a little sheepish. "When Miss Thorne came out of the house she was not Miss Thorne at all she was Señorita Inez Rodriguez, daughter of the Venezuelan minister.
But the evidences of this conscientiousness in his own work did not make the little authors one whit less sore under his lash. Privately they writhed and they squirmed publicly they denounced. All save one an ex-preacher, Dr. Rufus Griswold himself a critic of ability, who would like to have been, like The Dreamer, a poet as well as a critic. When Edgar Poe praised the prose writings of Dr.
Mrs. Griswold did not care for the picturesque, just then; she cared much more for Lizzy, and her acute feminine instinct helped her to the right word. "I don't believe it, dear!" said she; "you'd better finish straining that squash, or Widow Peters won't have her pies for Thursday."
In this he succeeded, and he sent it over the second baseman's head, but it fell short of the fielder. Merriwell came home while Griswold was going down to first. And now it needed but one score for Yale to tie Harvard. The man who followed Griswold dashed all their hopes by hitting a weak one to short and forcing Danny out at second. Harvard cheered their men as they came in from the field.
Dark's goin' to ketch us sure as shootin', and it's blowin' up plumb cold." Sprudell nerved himself and started, stepping as gingerly as he could; but in spite of his best efforts his feet came down like pile drivers, disturbing rocks each time he moved. Griswold watched him anxiously, and finally called: "You're makin' more fuss than a cow elk!
Danny Griswold came to the bat. "Get me home some way, Danny," urged Frank. The little shortstop said not a word, but there was determination in his eyes. He grasped his stick firmly and prayed for one of his favorite high balls. But Peck kept them low on Danny, who took a strike, and then was pulled on a bad one. With two strikes on him and only one ball, the case looked desperate for Danny.
Under the depression of impending disaster, men like Senator Timothy Pickering of Massachusetts and Roger Griswold of Connecticut broached to their New England friends the possibility of a withdrawal from the Union and the formation of a Northern Confederacy.
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