Owing to the great amount of work which could not be postponed, and the fact that the “Tribune” had the moral right to his letters before he offered them for sale in the form of a book, the last of his three volumes of travel did not appear until August, 1855. At one time, he entertained the idea of publishing a book of songs, and consulted with his publisher concerning the probable success of such a volume. But having had his attention called to the fact that the veriest trash answered the purpose of musical composers fully as well as sterling poetry, he abandoned the idea. The thought was probably suggested to him by the writings of Thomas Moore, whose “Lalla Rookh” was frequently brought to mind while Mr. Taylor was writing out the chapters of his book, wherein he described his visit to Agra and Delhi in India. The objections which he found to a volume of songs, seemed equally applicable to single productions which might be included in such a category, and he not only suppressed many he had written, but cautiously cut out verses in such as had been printed, before he allowed them to be published again. He went so far as to request that the song for which he obtained the Jenny Lind prize in 1850, should be kept forever out of print. Some of these are said to be among his papers in Germany, where his body now lies, and the writer sincerely wishes to see them all in print at a day not very remote, together with the epistolary poems and friendly sonnets which have been sent by him to the distinguished scholars and poets who enjoyed his friendship. It will take time to gather them, but, when collected, will make the best of reading, and will show the joyous, simple, sincere character of the poet, as no amount of prose can do. As early as October, 1854, Mr. Taylor conceived the idea of building a summer residence near the old homestead at Kennett. It may have been a purpose entertained in his youth, for he often mentions, directly and indirectly, in his early writings, the scenery and the people about his home at Kennett. But in that year the idea appears to have assumed the form of a possibility, for he wrote to one of his old schoolmates, who resided that autumn in Jersey City, saying that he began to see his way for a house of his own at Kennett. The letter set in circulation the report that he was soon to be married; but he had kept his own counsel so well, and held aloof so studiously from the company of ladies, that none of the gossips could possibly hint at the person of his choice. This loyalty to his home and desire to return to it like a weary bird to its nest, was a beautiful trait of his character, and testifies strongly to his natural goodness of heart. For it will be found that the noblest men of all ages and professions have loved the homes of their childhood, while the selfish, narrow, barbarous, and mean, universally regard their early associations with neglect or contempt.