in each other's bosoms, had occasion required it, should have been brought, by the marriage of their descendants of the third generation, into such an amiable relation as to hang peacefully together, a principal ornament to a scholar's room, fitted up expressly for literary and historical pursuits. of his country. That this was not the mere com- "It was certainly a curious coincidence," repliment of a writer of established fame to a marks Mr. Gardner, his friend and executor, younger aspirant about whom he cared but lit- "that in the train of human events these weaptle is evident from the manner in which he aid-ons, which former owners would have been ed in giving currency to the work upon its ap-ready on that day, as public enemies, to bury pearance. It was first published in London, and advance sheets were sent to Prescott for his perusal. He immediately sent a copy of these to the Harpers, accompanied by so warm and complimentary a letter advising the publication in this country, that a portion of it was set down by the cautious publishers to personal friendship, and the letter and advance sheets were sent to Dr. Cogswell, of the Astor Library, for his opinion as to the propriety of the publication. The encomiums of Dr. Cogswell were as warm as those of Prescott, and the work was immediately put to press and scattered far and wide over the United States, with what success the reader need scarcely be told. Prescott spoke of the articles which had appeared from time to time in the Evening Post on the Private Libraries of New York, which he had read with great interest. He said that he had only brought such books to Lynn as he had immediate occasion for, and offered me a note to his housekeeper in town to enable me to inspect his collection at my leisure on my way through Boston. He, however, assured me that I should see nothing in comparison with collections of the bibliopoles of New York, which he said not only exceeded his expectation but far surpassed those to be found in other cities. He had some knowledge of the Boston collections, and was fain to admit their inferiority as compared with those of New York. I now greatly regret that I declined his offer to give me the note, which I did under the impression that I would at some future day inspect it in company with its learned and accomplished owner. That opportunity will now never be afforded. I am led to believe that Prescott's modesty induced him in this conversation to undervalue his own collection. His friends well know that his library contains several thousand volumes in handsome bindings, and for the most part choice books. The library, which was likewise used by him as a reception-room, is truly a beautiful apartment, and besides its treasures of books is decorated with busts and pictures of eminent literary men and other evidences of his literary calling. There was one set of relics in this apartment to which allusion should be made. These are two swords, which used to hang, crossing each other, over the recess of the great window. One of these was the sword of his grandfather, Colonel William Prescott, and was worn by him when he commanded the American forces in the redoubt at Bunker Hill. The other belonged to Captain Linzee of the British Navy, the grandfather of Mrs. Prescott, and was worn by him while in command of the sloop of war Falcon, which was engaged on this eventful day in cannonading the forces under the command of Colonel Prescott at Bunker Hill. "One who knew Prescott well may easily imagine what a field these incidents afforded for the play of his lively fancy in a genial mood, and his mood was seldom any other with his friends. I wish it were possible to recall his own language in some of the varied remarks, at times overflowing with sparkling wit, which I have heard fall from his lips on the suggestion of this theme, when the attention of his guests happened to be called to his military possessions. But alas! there was no Boswell in the company, and the spirit of the remarks has fled with the author, leaving behind only a cluster of impressions most agreeable for friends to dwell upon, but such as can never be conveyed to others who only knew him through his published works." These swords were bequeathed by Prescott in his will in the following manner: "The sword which belonged to my grandfather, Colonel William Prescott, worn by him in the battle of Bunker Hill, I give to the Massachusetts Historical Society, as a curiosity suitable to be preserved among their collections, and the sword which belonged to my wife's grandfather, Captain Linzee of the British Royal Navy, who commanded the enemy's ships during the same battle, I give to my wife.' Mr. Gardner, after presenting the sword to the Historical Society, accompanied by the letter from which the above extracts were made, informed it through Mr. Ticknor that he was authorized by Mrs. Prescott and the other heirs of Captain Linzee to present to it the sword bequeathed to Mrs. Prescott, in order that the friendly embrace in which they had been associated together during the life of the historian might not be severed by his death. These revolutionary relics, crossed in the manner in which they were in the library of Prescott, now occupy a prominent position in rooms of the Society to which they were donated. On the occasion of my visit to Prescott the conversation turned upon the cheap editions of popular English works which were being turned out from the presses of the large publishing houses in great numbers. He deprecated it as an evidence of bad taste on the part of the public. "For my own part," said he, "I believe that the style in which a book is printed and bound adds greatly to the value of its contents with most persons: it certainly does with me. have often cast aside as unworthy of perusal a closely and cheaply printed book, which, on ex I amination in a guise more befitting its contents, | Humboldt, by Count d'Arnim, the Prussian MinI have found of the greatest interest." I replied that this was an evil that would probably cure itself; and, for one, I was anxious that the rage for cheap books should be carried to its furthest extent, because I was fully assured that this would be followed by a reaction, in which choice library editions would again possess their true value. I said that I already began to see the end, for I had recently observed a novel of considerable size issued by a publishing house at six cents a copy, probably for the purpose of inflicting punishment upon some other house that had not followed strictly the rules of "the trade." He remarked that when last in New York one of the news-boys approached him with an armful of cheap copies of Dickens's last novel. ister. "You are a countryman of Prescott," said Humboldt. "He ranks with the first of historians, and is a savant of whom your country may well feel proud." Mr. Rush remarked that he was certainly very popular at home, but he believed his fame was greater in England than any where else. "Not so," replied Humboldt. "That he is highly appreciated in England I do not deny; but if you wish to see the fullest and most unaffected tribute to his greatness you must visit Germany. There he occupies the first rank." If evidence had been wanting to establish Prescott's high character as a historian, Hum- “ boldt's testimony would have been of the first importance, because the wonderfully learned and philosophic labors which he has given to the world in his Mexican and South American travels have particularly familiarized him with the scenes of many of Prescott's most brilliant de "Buy a copy of Dickens, Sir ?" said the news-boy; "last work, Sir; cheap, Sir; dogcheap, Sir; only six cents!-have a copy, Sir?" "What!" interrogatingly demanded Prescott of his little peddler of books, "a novel of Dick-scriptions. In the absence of the need of such ens for six cents ?" "Yes," replied the news-boy. "Dickens is fell, Sir; Dickens is fell; have a copy? only six cents!" authority, it is pleasant to witness a great genius in one hemisphere bestowing a just meed of praise upon a distinguished literary light in an other. THE TELLING TREASURE. I last; but What a commentary, thought Prescott, upon the popular fame of an author! The story, however, he considered a good one; and the next letter he wrote to Dickens he informed him of the incident, and the estimate in which he was held by the young dealer in cheap literature. I have already alluded to the great alacrity with which the different European governments to whom application was made hastened to place before Prescott their choicest and most carefully guarded archives. Hon. Richard Rush, while engaged officially abroad in 1847, narrates another instance of this kind that should not go unrecorded. He received while in Paris a letter from Prescott, informing him that, in his search for materials to illustrate the History of Philip II., he had ascertained that the papers of Cardinal Granville, which contained many important documents bearing on the question, were at Besançon, whither he had sent an agent to examine them. His agent learned that the papers had been removed to Paris, and were in the process of publication by the French government for private distribution. His friend, Count de Circourt, had informed him that an application from Mr. Rush to the government would probably be successful in placing the desired documents in his hands. Mr. Rush, upon the receipt of this note, immediately addressed a communication to the Minister of Public Instruction on the subject, which was responded to by an answer the next day, accompanied by six quarto volumes, comprising the whole of Cardinal Granville's papers, which he caused to be transmitted to Mr. Prescott. "I performed no act," adds Mr. Rush, "in the public station I held in Paris which gave me more sincere pleasure." ously to that there is a preamble. It is necessary to give you a little bit of family history, and personal history with it. My maternal grandfather was named Godfrey Telling. The Tellings are of a respectable famiily, connected with the Letmenoes and the Informings, and, by marriage, with the French Raconteurs. He had but one daughter, who married with Adolphus Story. The Storys were of a good family too-kin to the Rousers, Bouncers, and Tarradiddles. I was named after both my father and grandfather-Telling Adolphus Story. I was usually called Dolly, when a boy; but, from dislike to the abbreviation, I sunk the middle word when I grew older, and wrote my name after the usual way. My grandfather had the reputation of being quite rich. He had at one time a number of houses and farms, scattered through several counties. They happened to lie on the route taken by the main railway between Philadelphia and New York, and when that went fairly into operation they rose greatly in value. One by one he sold them at highly increased prices. This was during my boyhood. He retained one place-a farm of about fifty acres-in one of the lower counties of New Jersey. On this there was an extensive house, of a rather tumble-down pattern, where my grandfather, who had long "been a widower, lived all alone. Shortly before this correspondence took place Mr. Rush was introduced to the venerable Baron My father was a bad manager. He was industrious and somewhat persevering; but every thing he touched seemed to go wrong. He entered on various enterprises, and tried all kinds thing to do with hastening his death, which happened a little over two years after my grandfather's. He died in no better circumstances than before, and his family were left with small resources. of business, to signally fail in every thing. At | dreamed of it at night. It may have had somelength the money inherited from his father melted nearly all away, and he became reduced to comparative poverty. Grandfather Telling would give him no assistance. Every body said that the old gentleman, who had sold his real estate at such high prices, must have vast hoards of money; but he would not part with a single dollar. He dug and delved around his fruit trees, of which he had the choicest kinds, lived frugally on the produce of his little farm, and did not seem to trouble himself about the mischances of his son-in-law. But he died, and left all behind, when I was in my sixteenth year. However, my mother was a woman of great decision and energy; and I was a stout boy of over eighteen years of age. I left college at once, though my mother wished me to remain. I had a will of my own in that matter. I knew that she would need some one to help her manage the little farm, and that she could illy afford the expense of completing my education. So I came home, took lessons in plowing and such like rural accomplishments, and became a farmer. My father, in spite of his lack of success in other matters, had accumulated a fine library of well-selected books, and I inherited his literary taste. I became an omnivorous reader. When my daily toil was over, and during the winter when outdoor work was impossible, I used to sit and read, without reference to any particular line of study. I devoured every thing in my way, as it came to hand. History, science, art, romance, sermons, travels, plays-all fell before me. By the time I was twenty-one I had exhausted the library, and had done a deal toward completing my unfinished education. Every body said that now my father would be rich. Every body was mistaken. The will was opened in due course. Attached to it was a letter, which the lawyer, who was executor, handed to my father. The latter, after glancing at the indorsement, put it in his pocket. It was directed "To my Grandson, Telling A. Story, to be given to him on the day he arrives at years of discretion, and not before. He may then find it of service; if not, it will be his own fault." The will was read. The farm where my grandfather had lived so long was bequeathed to me, with all the appurtenances, subject to a life-interest, granted to my father. There were no other legacies, and no mention was made of any money. The house was searched carefully, the wainscots Having now become of age, which was preand wash-boards removed, the very floors ripped sumed to be the period which my grandfather up, and the cellar dug over; but without suc-intended to indicate as arriving at "years of Every inquiry possible was made in vain. discretion," the letter which my poor father had What had become of the money obtained for the puzzled so long and vainly over was given to me. houses and farms was a mystery. I need not say that I read it carefully, hoping to find in it some hidden meaning. Here is an accurate fac-simile of it. The handwriting, though a little crabbed, was perfectly legible aft cess. To say that my father was annoyed does not describe his disappointment. He took the matter deeply to heart. He talked about it, and brooded over it; he thought of it by day, ander a few minutes' study: My dear Grand Son :- You have come to a statio of being, which you snpleasant if y will discover to be not Find the means to make it to. Some advice on the marker, may with more than the from me so be even cash which I expected corainly. Under the disappointmen and the chagrin of the moment you may not Listen to advice so big with importance as may of pear frivolous, at leash. are in want, in this. My words Hang yourself on no the, if yo but, even with the leash care, scan the letter, and examine closely the staff. G Felling The letter certainly looked silly enough. The underscored phrase suggested to me at first the idea that there was a scroll, telling where the money was to be found hidden in some staff of my grandfather; and I suggested this. My mother removed that idea very quickly. "There is no staff about," said she. "Old as your grandfather was, he never used a cane, and walked as erect to the day of his last sickness as he ever did." "Yes, Sir." "It is no wonder that the young ladies are fatigued. You have wandered some distance. By the nearest route you can take it is over ten miles." A general expression of dismay went over the faces of the party. "If," suggested the gentleman, "any conveyance could be hired in the neighborhood-" "Some difficulty there," I replied. "This We puzzled over the matter for a while, and is a busy season, and the teams around are then the letter was carefully put away. In the mean while the farm prospered. My mother made butter and cheese, and superintended the kitchen; I planted garden crops, melons, sweet-potatoes, and such things; in short, it was a mingled dairy and "truck" farm on a small scale. We prospered so much that I was enabled to add to the library a volume now and then, and in two years after I came of age my mother bought a little tract of ground, ten acres in all, adjoining our own, repaired the old house, and built a new barn. We were getting along finely and comfortably, and these were happy and busy years. There had nothing occurred worthy of note in my life until my twenty-fifth year. I remember that time well, for a very important event happened an event, without which, as you shall see presently, this account would probably never have been written. It was late in June, and from pressure of work the little meadow-field on the south slope of the farm-it is part of the lawn before my mansion now-had not been mowed. The grass was beginning to shed its seed, and myself and two hired men went at the business in a hurry. We had just finished mowing, and were preparing to toss the grass first cut, when I heard the sound of silvery voices and musical laughter, and, on looking to the direction whence it came, saw a gay party, principally females, coming toward us. They looked tired, but their spirits were not jaded, that was evident. There were two gentlemen-one, advanced a little in years, the other a boy-and five young ladies, apparently from sixteen to twenty years of age. these my eye noted one in particular. Of Certainly she was very pretty. Indeed, all the girls there were notable for good looks, but there was something about her lips, an expression so arch and yet so innocent, that the beauty of the rest gave way before it, and I could see no one but her. occupied. If you will walk to the house yonder, and let me have some refreshment prepared, I will arrange it. I have no carriage large enough for all of you, except a heavy farm wagon; but with plenty of fresh hay in the bottom, the ladies will find it endurable. Or, I can improvise some seats of rough boards, if you prefer them." The gentleman, who gave me his name as Dorland, poured out a profusion of thanks. He declined the hospitality of my house at first, but I laughed down his excuses, and led the way homeward. My mother soon had a substantial lunch prepared, which the younger portion of the party dispatched quite readily. The table was set in my library, and I could see that Mr. Dorland, who was the father of the younger gentleman and of the young lady whose beauty and manner had so strangely attracted me, was surprised at seeing so extensive a collection of books in a farmer's house, and possibly rather astonished at the manners and language of one whom he had seen just previously, scythe in hand, with his shirt-sleeves rolled up, and a dilapidated felt-hat crowning his head. But on entering the house, after the party were scated, I had slipped off, washed, and changed my clothes for something more presentable. When I entered the library to preside over the lunchtable, I presented the company with the view of a sufficiently well-dressed, and—well, I am vain enough to say it—a rather good-looking young gentleman. In due time the wagon was brought to the door, and after a deal of chattering and giggling among the young ladies, was filled and driven off to Oaklands, where its load was deposited. While the mouths of the horses were being washed, and the tired animals rested, I entered Colonel Annis's house, at the invitation of its owner. The Colonel himself, who only came to his country-seat during three months of the year, and whom I had never met, was quite courteous; but his was a lofty and condescending courtesy which I did not like. It put me on my mettle. I knew the worthy Colonel's The elder gentleman, who was apparently about fifty, and had the air and appearance of a man of refinement, stepped out to where I was history-by-the-by, his military title came from and slightly bowed. "I believe," he said, pleasantly, "that we are trespassers; but we really can not tell where we are. We started out this morning for a ramble and have lost our way. These young ladies are both fatigued and hungry, and if you would tell us the shortest way to Oaklands we should be very much obliged to you." "To Oaklands-not Colonel Annis's seat?" a two-years' service in the militia, on the peace establishment-and I knew that he had not been for many years accustomed to the luxury around him. His patronizing way was insufferable. I nullified it by ignoring it altogether, and joined in the general conversation with a dash and brilliancy which astonished even myself. The occasion developed colloquial powers which I had not dreamed of possessing, and as there were several others present gifted with quick perceptions and full command of language, the conversation was racy and sparkling enough to have satisfied the most inveterate talker on earth. Twice during this I glanced around and caught the eye of Grace Dorland fastened upon me. The expression I could not define, whether of interest or not, and the doubt dampened my spirits a little; but the provocation of Colonel Annis's patronizing way would recur, and that brought me right again. The whole time occupied thus was scarcely an hour, but it was a very eventful one. I unquestionably made an impression on the gentlemen present, whatever I might have done on Miss Dorland. As I rose to take my leave there was a general invitation to repeat my visit. Colonel Annis himself unbent, and said: "I am glad to find I have so agreeable a neighbor. I trust we shall see more of you, Sir." I replied with what was after all a haughty humility. "It would afford me a deal of pleasure, but it is almost impossible. My farm is my support, and if I were to gratify my inclination by visiting genial and congenial people, what would become of my crops? I might as well let the foxes, rigged Samson-fashion, get among my standing crops as the weeds. It is much easier for you all to visit the farm. In a month's time, or thereabout, the marsh-grounds below will afford you abundance of woodcock; the little stream running through my place is filled with trout; and the view from the hill to the right of the house is charming. You have full license from the lord of the pocket-manor to fish, fowl, or gaze at your pleasure." "We shall avail ourselves of the invitation, be assured," said Mr. Dorland. As I was about to drive off young George Dorland came up and leaned over the wagonwheel to talk to me. | gardening; and he gradually extracted from me "I think not," I answered. "My grandfather had a horror of banks. But we have made every inquiry in that quarter as vainly as elsewhere." The young ladies rode that way frequently, and Grace Dorland took a strong liking to my mother, with whom she grew to be a great pet, and thus I met her often. Grace grew very much interested in farm matters; and, at her own request, was speedily initiated into the mysteries of raising poultry, making pickles and preserves, and other housekeeping knowledge. Her father laughed at this, and said it was a very useful whim, to whose indulgence he did not object. As for me I became deeper in love every day. And yet it was folly. I soon learned that Mr. Dorland was a man of ample means, and high connections. If I could gain the affection of his daughter, thus strangely thrown in my way, I felt that he would never consent. Το marry her against his will, was to introduce one, nurtured in elegance and used to a certain class of associates, into a sphere to which she was unaccustomed. I thought over this a deal, but the fascination of her presence was too powerful. I was well content to let events take their course. October came, and Colonel Annis, with his guests, departed. Grace came over to bid my mother good-by, and I thought her hand trembled as she gave it to me for a moment on parting. I was very miserable, and when they had left for Philadelphia, of which city Mr. Dorland was a resident, I went to my library, and, like a huge boy, fairly blubbered. For I now began to see, or think I saw, a great gulf between Grace and myself. If I could only find my grandfather's missing money! And day by day "Is there such good trouting there, Mr. I speculated on its whereabouts. Story?" he asked. During the autumn, when I went to Philadel "Bring your rod and flies over and see," was phia, which was my market-town, to sell my my answer. The next day Master George came, fully equipped for slaughter among the trout; and he whipped the little stream to some effect. The fish were plenty there. Few knew any thing about it; there were not many trout-streams in that section. I had no taste for angling, and so the fish had grown and multiplied. The report of his success brought his father, and a young English traveler, a Mr. Anson; and in a short while the Philistines were upon the trout in earnest. produce, I always took a valise containing a nice suit of clothing along. Business over, I would dress myself and walk out Walnut Street, past Mr. Dorland's house-I found its location by the directory-in the vain hope of seeing Grace. I was never successful. Nor did I ever meet her in Chestnut Street, nor at any place of public amusement. After every failure I hated myself for my folly, and yet I renewed the attempt again and again. The winter drew on, and then I learned by chance that Mr. Dorland, with his children, had been for some time in Europe, and that his town residence had been leased to another during his absence. I had been strolling through the streets of Philadelphia to no purpose. I could see meanwhile that I was an object of some curiosity, and a subject of discussion with my visitors; the more especially as I went about my business as usual, gathering in my vegetables, and taking them to market myself, after my cus- The next summer came. In the mean while, tomary fashion. Mr. Dorland and I became though my reason told me that it was useless, quite intimate. We discussed all sorts of things my love for Grace Dorland had grown more abwhen we met, from Encke's comet to landscape-sorbing. Absence threw a thousand charms |