learned and hospitable Dr. Rosenbach at his new and
magnificent thesaurus at 273 Madison Avenue. We showed him the book,
because every time one shows the doctor a book he can startle you by
countering with its original manuscript or something of that sort.
We said something about Shelley and Trelawny, in the hope of
starting him off. He smiled gently and drew out a volume from a
shelf. It was the copy of "Prometheus Unbound" that Shelley had
given Trelawny in July, 1822, with an inscription. As the poet was
drowned on July 8, 1822, it probably was the last book he ever gave
away.

One wonders what may have become of the log of the American clipper
that Shelley and Trelawny visited in the harbour of Leghorn shortly
before Shelley's death. Shelley had said something in praise of
George Washington, to which the sturdy Yankee skipper replied:
"Stranger, truer words were never spoken; there is dry rot in all
the main timbers of the Old World, and none of you will do any good
till you are docked, refitted, and annexed to the New. You must log
that song you sang; there ain't many Britishers that will say as
much of the man that whipped them; so just set these lines down in
the log!"

Whereupon Shelley autographed the skipper's log for him, with some
sentiments presumably gratifying to American pride, and drank some
"cool peach brandy." It was his last drink.

We ourself, just as much as Shelley, enjoy visiting ships, and have
had some surprising adventures in so doing. We remember very clearly
our first call upon William McFee, when he was First Assistant
Engineer in S.S. _Turrialba_. But getting aboard vessels is a much
more complicated and diplomatic task than it was in Shelley's day.
Even when armed with Mr. McFee's autographed card, it was by no
means easy. We went dutifully up to the office of the United Fruit
Company at Pier 9, to apply for a pass, and were surveyed with grim
suspicion. Why, we asked gently, in these peaceful times is it so
difficult to visit a friend who happens to be in a ship?
Prohibition, said the candid clerk, and a whole province of human
guile was thereby made plain to our shrinking mind. Mortals incline
readily to sin, it seems, and apparently evil and base men will even
go so far as to pretend a friendship with those who go down to wet
territory in ships, simply for the sake of--well, we cannot bring
ourself to mention it. "How do you know Mr. McFee wants to see you?"
we were asked. Luckil