The traveller drew from his pocket a small book, took a pen, and wrote in the title-page of it, For one who will make a good use of it; and, with Mrs. Howard’s permission, he gave the book to her nephew.
“I do not believe,” said the gentleman, “that there is at present another copy in England: I have just got this from France by a private hand.”
The sale of his aunt’s books appeared to Charles a much more serious affair than the parting with her diamonds. He understood something of the value of books, and he took a sorrowful leave of many which he had read, and of many more which he had intended to read. Mrs. Howard selected a few for her own use, and she allowed her nephew to select as many for himself as she had done. He observed that there was a beautiful edition of Shakspeare, which
