man life."

Three or four years ago a fine-looking young fellow walked in upon me
with a letter of introduction from his mother. He was Captivity
Waite's son! Captivity is a widow now, and she is still living in her
native State, within twenty miles of the spot where she was born.
Colonel Parker, her husband, left her a good property when he died, and
she is famous for her charities. She has founded a village library, and
she has written me on several occasions for advice upon proposed
purchases of books.

I don't mind telling you that I had a good deal of malicious pleasure
in sending her not long ago a reminder of old times in these words:
"My valued friend," I wrote, "I see by the catalogue recently published
that your village library contains, among other volumes representing
the modern school of fiction, eleven copies of 'Trilby' and six copies
of 'The Heavenly Twins.' I also note an absence of certain works whose
influence upon my earlier life was such that I make bold to send copies
of the same to your care in the hope that you will kindly present them
to the library with my most cordial compliments. These are a copy each
of the 'New England Primer' and Grimm's 'Household Stories.'"

At the age of twenty-three, having been graduated from college and
having read the poems of Villon, the confessions of Rousseau, and
Boswell's life of Johnson, I was convinced that I had comprehended the
sum of human wisdom and knew all there was worth knowing. If at the
present time--for I am seventy-two--I knew as much as I thought I knew
at twenty-three I should undoubtedly be a prodigy of learning and
wisdom.

I started out to be a philosopher. My grandmother's death during my
second year at college possessed me of a considerable sum of money and
severed every tie and sentimental obligation which had previously held
me to my grandmother's wish that I become a minister of the gospel.
When I became convinced that I knew everything I conceived a desire to
see something, for I had traveled none and I had met but few people.

Upon the advice of my Uncle Cephas, I made a journey to Europe, and
devoted two years to seeing sights and to acquainting myself with the
people and the customs abroad. Nine months of this time I spent in
Paris, which was then an irregular and unkempt city, but withal quite
as evil as at present. I took apartments in the Latin Quarter, and,
being of a generous nature, I devoted a large share of my in