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Updated: June 24, 2025
Herford, whom I had known in Boston, consulted with the American Ambassador, the Hon. Joseph Choate, and arranged for me to speak at a public meeting to be held in Essex Hall. Mr. Choate kindly consented to preside. The meeting was largely attended. There were many distinguished persons present, among them several members of Parliament, including Mr. James Bryce, who spoke at the meeting.
Miss Amy Lowell, sister of President Lowell of Harvard, is not only a distinguished poetess, being by many considered the head of the Vers Libre school in this country, but she is also the guardian of a most handsome and stately presence. Oliver Herford, himself a poet and wit, doubtless inspired by envy, recently remarked of her that
Just walk right up to the rack and say whether you love and worship a God that established slavery. Honest! And love and worship a God that would allow a little babe to be torn from the breast of its mother and sold into slavery. Now tell it fair, Mr. Herford, I want you to tell the ladies in your congregation that you believe in a God that allowed women to be given to the soldiers.
John Ball, who had figured in the front rank of the revolt, was falsely-named as one of his adherents, and was alleged to have denounced in his last hour the conspiracy of the "Wyclifites." Wyclif's most prominent scholar, Nicholas Herford, was said to have openly approved the brutal murder of Archbishop Sudbury.
In these new surroundings, he seems to have been exceptionally happy, throwing himself into all the interests of the place, athletic as well as intellectual, and endearing himself both to his teachers and his fellow-students. His friendship with Professor Herford, then Professor of English at Aberystwyth, was one of the chief pleasures of his student days as well as of his after life.
The French reënforced the army opposed to the Duke of Brunswick, and attacked him on two sides, Broglio from the Main, Contades from the Lower Rhine. The Duke was pushed back upon Bergen, but nevertheless gained a glorious victory over the united French leaders at Minden. His nephew, the Crown Prince Ferdinand, also defeated another French army under Brissac, on the same day, at Herford.
That is to say, our early education was received largely from the pages of St. Nicholas Magazine; and when grown to man's estate and brought to mingle with the great we might easily have suffered a sentimental disappointment in Mr. Herford. But no, he is as mad as a March hare. He never, we should say, has any idea where he is. An absolutely blank face. Mind far, far away.
Herford, Bremer and Hattie, Jane and Nellie, Henrietta and Jane and some one and another one, everybody Michael and us and Victor Herbert, Farmert and us, Bessie Hessel and me. Some one if they dreamed that their mother was dead when they woke up would not put on mourning.
Urian Oakes, minister of Cambridge, was at this time acting president, and was installed as president in the next month. There were apparently seventeen students in the college at this time who subsequently graduated, and perhaps a few others. The Labadists had everywhere maintained their own printer, Loureins Autein going with them in that capacity from Amsterdam to Herford.
Heartiness and geniality is his role. A man built to win and to relish popularity. With a breezy salute of the sulphur-gloved hand, he is gone. Immediately we feel much less electric. Alas, what an awful thing! Oliver Herford, with heavily dipped pen poised, is about to autograph a copy of his "Pen and Ink Puppet," when, lo! a monstrous ink blot spills upon the fair page. Hideous! Mr.
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