His wardrobe was remarkably inexpensive, consisting of little more than a single plain suit, brown or gray, which he wore winter and summer, until it became threadbare.  He never used boots; and his shoes, though carefully dusted, were never blacked.  A most unpretending bow fastened his cravat of colored cambric.  For many years his only outer garment was a brown camlet cloak, of very scanty proportions, thinly lined, and a meagre protection against winter.  His hat was worn for years before being laid aside, and put you in mind of the prevailing mode by the law of contrast only.  He was never seen with gloves, and rarely with an umbrella.  The value of his entire wardrobe scarcely exceeded fifty dollars; yet he was always neat, and appeared unconscious of any peculiarity in his costume.

An accurate portrait of him at any period of his life can scarcely be said to exist.  His sensitive modesty seems to have made him unwilling to let his features be exposed to the flaring notoriety of canvas.  Once, indeed, he allowed himself to be painted by Mr. George A. Flagg; but the picture having been exhibited in the Trumbull Gallery of Yale College, Percival’s susceptibility took alarm, and he expressed annoyance,—­though whether dissatisfied with the portrait or its public exposure I cannot say.  The artist proposed certain alterations, and the poet listened to him with seeming assent.  The picture was taken back to the studio; objectionable or questionable parts of it painted out; the likeness destroyed for the purpose of correction; and Percival was to give another sitting at his convenience.  That was the last time he put himself within painting reach of Mr. Flagg’s easel.[A]

[Footnote A:  I remember to have seen an excellent portrait of him, by Alexander, in the studio of that artist, in the year 1825; but in whose possession it now is, I am unable to say.]

In those days of our early acquaintance, he occupied two small chambers, one of which fronted on the business part of Chapel Street (New Haven).  His books, already numerous, were piled in double tiers and in heaps against the walls, covering the floors also, and barely leaving space for his sleeping-cot, chair, and writing-table.  His library was a sanctum to which the curious visitor hardly ever gained admittance.  He met even his friends at the door, and generally held his interviews with them in the adjoining passage.  Disinclined to borrow books, he was especially averse to lending.  Dr. Guhrauer’s assertion respecting Leibnitz, that “his library was numerous and valuable, and its possessor had the peculiarity that he liked to worm in it alone, being very reluctant to let any one see it,” applies equally well to Percival.