lamented friend Stackpole about my intention of writing a history upon a subject to which I have since that time been devoting myself.  I had then made already some general studies in reference to it, without being in the least aware that Prescott had the intention of writing the ‘History of Philip the Second.’  Stackpole had heard the fact, and that large preparations had already been made for the work, although ‘Peru’ had not yet been published.  I felt naturally much disappointed.  I was conscious of the immense disadvantage to myself of making my appearance, probably at the same time, before the public, with a work not at all similar in plan to ’Philip the Second,’ but which must of necessity traverse a portion of the same ground.

“My first thought was inevitably, as it were, only of myself.  It seemed to me that I had nothing to do but to abandon at once a cherished dream, and probably to renounce authorship.  For I had not first made up my mind to write a history, and then cast about to take up a subject.  My subject had taken me up, drawn me on, and absorbed me into itself.  It was necessary for me, it seemed, to write the book I had been thinking much of, even if it were destined to fall dead from the press, and I had no inclination or interest to write any other.  When I had made up my mind accordingly, it then occurred to me that Prescott might not be pleased that I should come forward upon his ground.  It is true that no announcement of his intentions had been made, and that he had not, I believe, even commenced his preliminary studies for Philip.  At the same time I thought it would be disloyal on my part not to go to him at once, confer with him on the subject, and if I should find a shadow of dissatisfaction on his mind at my proposition, to abandon my plan altogether.

“I had only the slightest acquaintance with him at that time.  I was comparatively a young man, and certainly not entitled on any ground to more than the common courtesy which Prescott never could refuse to any one.  But he received me with such a frank and ready and liberal sympathy, and such an open-hearted, guileless expansiveness, that I felt a personal affection for him from that hour.  I remember the interview as if it had taken place yesterday.  It was in his father’s house, in his own library, looking on the garden-house and garden,—­honored father and illustrious son,—­alas! all numbered with the things that were!  He assured me that he had not the slightest objection whatever to my plan, that he wished me every success, and that, if there were any books in his library bearing on my subject that I liked to use, they were entirely at my service.  After I had expressed my gratitude for his kindness and cordiality, by which I had been in a very few moments set completely at ease,—­ so far as my fears of his disapprobation went,—­I also very naturally stated my opinion that the danger was entirely mine,