There is the Plato on the lower shelf, with the inscription, Ezra Stiles, 1766, to which Doctor Holmes alludes in his tribute to the New England clergy. Here is the hand-lens imported by the Reverend John Prince, of Salem, and just before us, in the "unpretending row of local historians," is Jeremy Belknap's _History of New Hampshire_, "in the pages of which," says Doctor Holmes, "may be found a chapter contributed in part by the most remarkable man in many respects, among all the older clergymen,--preacher, lawyer, physician, astronomer, botanist, entomologist, explorer, colonist, legislator in State and national governments, and only not seated on the bench of the Supreme Court of a Territory because he declined the office when Washington offered it to him. This manifold individual," adds Doctor Holmes, "was the minister of Hamilton, a pleasant little town in Essex County, Massachusetts, the Reverend Manasseh Cutler." [Illustration: DR. HOLMES' LIBRARY, BEACON ST.] Here is the _Aëtius_ found one never-to-be-forgotten rainy day, in that dingy bookshop in Lyons, and here the vellum-bound _Tulpius_, "my only reading," says Doctor Holmes, "when imprisoned in quarantine at Marseilles, so that the two hundred and twenty-eight cases he has recorded are, many of them, to this day still fresh in my memory." Here, too, is the _Schenckius_,--"the folio filled with _casus rariores_, which had strayed in among the rubbish of the bookstall on the boulevard--and here the noble old _Vesalius_, with its grand frontispiece not unworthy of Titian, and the fine old _Ambroise Parié_, long waited for even in Paris and long ago, and the colossal Spigelius, with his eviscerated beauties, and Dutch Bidloo with its miracles of fine engraving and bad dissection, and Italian Mascagni, the despair of all would-be imitators, and pre-Adamite John de Ketam, and antediluvian _Berengarius Carpensis_," and many other rare volumes, dear to the heart of every bibliophile.