riage-builder in our neighbourhood had executed a chaise of very
unusual magnificence, and as I stood admiring it I informed Hillburn that
this was what was called by the learned a _host_, and that it was in such
a host that Pharaoh perished. I remember elevating my voice somewhat for
the benefit of a bystander, being somewhat proud of this bit of
knowledge.

Unfortunately, not only my father, but also my teacher, and with them the
entire population of North America, in those days regarded a good
knowledge of arithmetic as forming nine-tenths of all that was most
needful in education, while indulgence in a taste for general
information, and "literature" especially, was glared at with a very evil
eye indeed, as tending to injure a "practical business man." That there
could be any kind of profitable or respectable calling not based upon
arithmetic did not enter into the heart of man to conceive, while among
the bankers and merchants of Boston, New York, or Philadelphia there was
a deeply-seated conviction that even a wealthy and successful editor,
literary man, or artist, was really an inferior as compared to
themselves. As this sublime truth was severely rubbed into me several
times daily during the greater portion of my youthful life, and as in its
earlier stage I rarely met with a man grown who did not look down on me
as an unfortunate non-arithmetical, unbusinesslike creature, and let me
know it too, I very naturally grew up with a low estimate of my own
capacities; and as I was proud and sensitive, this was to me a source of
much suffering, which often became terrible as I advanced in years. But
at that time the position of the literary man or scholar, with the
exception of a very few brilliant magnates who had "made money," was in
the United States not an enviable one. Serious interest in art and
letters was not understood, or so generally sympathised with, as it now
is in "Quakerdelphia." There was a gentleman in Philadelphia who was a
scholar, and who having lived long abroad, had accumulated a very curious
black-letter and _rariora_ library. For a long time I observed that this
library was never mentioned in polite circles without significant smiles.
One day I heard a lady say very meaningly, "I suppose that you know what
kind of books he has _and how he obtained them_?" So I inquired very
naturally if he had come by them dishonestly. To which the reply, half-
whispered in my ear lest it should be overhea