control I kept my eyes on the book, but the lovely lady was so long
silent that I raised them. To my surprise, I found on her face an
expression of alarm and distress. With reluctance, and yet within
her voice a certain hopefulness, she said, "Fifty dollars."

Fifty dollars was a death blow. I had planned to keep the young
lady selling books throughout the entire morning, but at fifty
dollars a book, I would soon be owing her money. I attempted to
gain time.

"It must be very rare!" I said. I was afraid to look at her lest my
admiration should give offense, so I pretended to admire the book.

"It is the only one in existence," said the young lady. "At least,
it is the only one for sale! "

We were interrupted by the approach of a tall man who, from his
playing the polite host and from his not wearing a hat, I guessed
was Mr. Hatchardson himself. He looked from the book in my hand to
the lovely lady and said smiling, "Have you lost it?"

The girl did not smile. To her, apparently, it was no laughing
matter. "I don't know--yet," she said. Her voice was charming, and
genuinely troubled.

Mr. Hatchardson, for later I learned it was he, took the book and
showed me the title-page.

"This was privately printed in 1830," he said, "by Captain Noah
Briggs. He distributed a hundred presentation copies among his