o England, which gave him access to great
masses of historical documents. It was not until 1852 that his fourth
volume appeared, then five more followed at comparatively frequent
intervals. Again politics interrupted. He was sent as Minister to
Prussia and later to the German Empire, again largely increasing his
store of original documents, with which, toward the last, he seems to
have been fairly overburdened. In 1874, he published his tenth volume,
bringing his narrative through the Revolution, and eight years later,
the last two dealing with the adoption of the Constitution. His last
years were spent in revising and correcting this monumental work.

It is an inspiring record--a life devoted consistently to one great
work, and that work the service of one's country, for such Bancroft's
really was. Every student of colonial and revolutionary America must
turn to him, and while his history has long since ceased to be generally
read, it maintains an honored place among every collection of books
dealing with America. It is easily first among the old-school histories
as produced by such men as Hildreth. Tucker, Palfrey and Sparks.

At the head of the other school, which has been called cosmopolitan
because it sought its subjects abroad rather than at home, stands
William Hickling Prescott. Of this school, Washington Irving may fairly
be said to have been the pioneer. We have seen how his residence in
Spain turned his attention to the history of that country and resulted
in three notable works. Prescott, however, was a historian by
forethought and not by accident. Before his graduation from Harvard, he
had determined to lead a literary life modelled upon that of Edward
Gibbon. His career was almost wrecked at the outset by an unfortunate
accident which so impaired his sight that he was unable to read or to
write except with the assistance of a cumbrous machine. That any man,
laboring under such a disability, should yet persevere in pursuing the
rocky road of the historian seems almost unbelievable; yet that is just
what Prescott did.

Let us tell the story of that accident. It was while he was at Harvard,
in his junior year. One day after dinner, in the Commons Hall, some of
the boys started a rude frolic. Prescott took no part in it, but just as
he was leaving, a great commotion behind him caused him to turn quickly,
and a hard piece of bread, thrown undoubtedly at random, struck him
squarely and with great force in the