s. Now, when you go to see him you ask him to let you see some of
those books, and then, when he isn't looking, you put a couple of them
in your pocket. They would make splendid souvenirs, and he has so many
he would never miss them. You do it, and then when you come to see me
tell me all about it."

And he and Longfellow smiled broadly.

An hour later, when Longfellow dropped Edward at his hotel, he had not
only a wonderful day to think over but another wonderful day to look
forward to as well!

He had breakfasted with Oliver Wendell Holmes; dined, supped, and been
to the theatre with Longfellow; and to-morrow he was to spend with
Phillips Brooks.

Boston was a great place, Edward Bok thought, as he fell asleep.

VI. Phillips Brooks's Books and Emerson's Mental Mist

No one who called at Phillips Brooks's house was ever told that the
master of the house was out when he was in. That was a rule laid down by
Doctor Brooks: a maid was not to perjure herself for her master's
comfort or convenience. Therefore, when Edward was told that Doctor
Brooks was out, he knew he was out. The boy waited, and as he waited he
had a chance to look around the library and into the books. The rector's
faithful housekeeper said he might when he repeated what Wendell
Phillips had told him of the interest that was to be found in her
master's books. Edward did not tell her of Mr. Phillips's advice to
"borrow" a couple of books. He reserved that bit of information for the
rector of Trinity when he came in, an hour later.

"Oh! did he?" laughingly said Doctor Brooks. "That is nice advice for a
man to give a boy. I am surprised at Wendell Phillips. He needs a little
talk: a ministerial visit. And have you followed his shameless advice?"
smilingly asked the huge man as he towered above the boy. "No? And to
think of the opportunity you had, too. Well, I am glad you had such
respect for my dumb friends. For they are my friends, each one of them,"
he continued, as he looked fondly at the filled shelves. "Yes, I know
them all, and love each for its own sake. Take this little volume," and
he picked up a little volume of Shakespeare. "Why, we are the best of
friends: we have travelled miles together--all over the world, as a
matter of fact. It knows me in all my moods, and responds to each, no
matter how irritable I am. Yes, it is pretty badly marked up now, for a
fact, isn't it? Black; I never thought of that before that it doesn't
make a