The Chickasha daily express. (Chickasha, Indian Territory [Okla.]) 1899-current, 1908-07-20
I'M SACRED KEEPING
WIDOW HELD HER HUSBANDS
LITERARY TREASURES.
Not An the Wealth Of New York, She
Declared, Would Tempt Her 10
Part with the Books
He Loved.

A New Yorker who returned a few
days ago from the Catskill mountains
tells Of an old woman he met, who
lives in cottage just outside the lit
tie town of Cairo. This woman, a
Mrs Gary he discovered, has a yalu-
able collection Of books which be-
longed to her husband, who at one
time kept a secondhand store in
Washington, D. c., and who died about
20 years ago.
Il stumbled on the little wooden
house and its occupant by chance,
said he, and it is a meeting | shall
long remember. followed her up an
uncarDeted stair, through a bare room
TO where the books were. They lined
a dozen rough shelves and Uttered the
floor. Evidently they had not been
disturbed for years. Piles of hand
some volumes in worn leather covers
lay smeared in cobwebs and dust.
stopped down to pick up a book
Stop she cried, grabbing my arm.
You must not tova them! They were
his, and you must not touch themi'
Gradually, however, she relented
! was allowed to open some of the vol.
umes under protest. Rare books they
were. Three first editions, which lay
half hidden in a pile of broken plaster
would have brought, believe, total
Of $500 at a book connoisseur's sale in
New York; one copy Of Poe, which
would have liked much to possess, lay
in moldy condition on the sill Of the
little attic window; several rare vol
umes Of Dickens works and an equal
ly rare copy Of Longfellow found be-
hind an immense travelling trunk,
squeezed and scratched deplorably
Treasure met my hand and eye every
where.
Why protested, IL you took
these books to New York and placed
them with proper persons you'd make
a small fortune
TO New York; she echoed, raising
her hands in alarm No, indeed, all
the wealth Of New York would not
tempt me to part with one Of them
They we're his; that's enough for me
Take care Of my books, Jane'-thal
was about the last words he said tc
me before he died. have respected
his wish, for they are here as he left
them. You are the first to lay a finger
on them. and you'll likely be the last
for before follow him III make sure
that his books'll fall into no strange
hands. Here, during the latter yearl
of his life, on the oak chair under th'
skylight, he would sit for hours ane
days on end with no company but hi
books. That night that was his las
he was here for hours. When he cam
down to the sitting room he could no
rest, and he said to me: I'm goinl
back to my books, Jane, and may rea'
TIL late. Get to bed If you wish, ant
never mind me-" So went to bed
and on awakening at the first gimme
Of dawn ! saw was still alone.
cried Andrew" but no answer came
then | stole out and went up stairs
All, I remember as If 1t we're yestel
day. He sat here with his head dow
on his chest-dead. Thls book wa
in his left hand and his right grippe
the chair arm like wise That othe
book on the floor lay as it lies nov
open with its face down. There I hav
left it lie. No hand shall touch them
And SO we walked silently cut Of th
musty room, and she locked the door
New York Press.