Like all bachelors who have lived a lonely life, Master Byles Gridley had his habits, which nothing short of some terrestrial convulsion—­or perhaps, in his case, some instinct that drove him forth to help somebody in trouble—­could possibly derange.  After his breakfast, he always sat and read awhile,—­the paper, if a new one came to hand, or some pleasant old author,—­if a little neglected by the world of readers, he felt more at ease with him, and loved him all the better.

But on the morning after his interview with Myrtle Hazard, he had received a letter which made him forget newspapers, old authors, almost everything, for the moment.  It was from the publisher with whom he had had a conversation, it may be remembered, when he visited the city, and was to this effect:  That Our Firm propose to print and stereotype the work originally published under the title of “Thoughts on the Universe”; said work to be remodelled according to the plan suggested by the Author, with the corrections, alterations, omissions, and additions proposed by him; said work to be published under the following title, to wit:  ________ _________:  said work to be printed in 12mo, on paper of good quality, from new types, etc., etc., and for every copy thereof printed the author to receive, etc., etc.

Master Gridley sat as in a trance, reading this letter over and over, to know if it could be really so.  So it really was.  His book had disappeared from the market long ago, as the elm seeds that carpet the ground and never germinate disappear.  At last it had got a certain value as a curiosity for book-hunters.  Some one of them, keener-eyed than the rest, had seen that there was a meaning and virtue in this unsuccessful book, for which there was a new audience educated since it had tried to breathe before its time.  Out of this had grown at last the publisher’s proposal.  It was too much:  his heart swelled with joy, and his eyes filled with tears.

How could he resist the temptation?  He took down his own particular copy of the book, which was yet to do him honor as its parent, and began reading.  As his eye fell on one paragraph after another, he nodded approval of this sentiment or opinion, he shook his head as if questioning whether this other were not to be modified or left out, he condemned a third as being no longer true for him as when it was written, and he sanctioned a fourth with his hearty approval.  The reader may like a few specimens from this early edition, now a rarity.  He shall have them, with Master Gridley’s verbal comments.  The book, as its name implied, contained “Thoughts” rather than consecutive trains of reasoning or continuous disquisitions.  What he read and remarked upon were a few of the more pointed statements which stood out in the chapters he was turning over.  The worth of the book must not be judged by these almost random specimens.

“The best thought, like the most perfect digestion, is done unconsciously.—­Develop that.—­Ideas at compound interest in the mind.—­Be aye sticking in an idea,—­while you’re sleeping it’ll be growing.  Seed of a thought to-day,—­flower to-morrow—­next week—­ten years from now, etc.—­Article by and by for the....