And thus, though the Annuals, by name, have perished, they have left a strong necessity in the public mind for books enriched by all the embellishments of art. Hence we have illustrated editions of Byron, Rogers, Thomson, Cowper, Campbell, and others; including our own poets, Bryant, Halleck, Sigourney, Longfellow, Read, &c. Wood-engraving, which since then has risen into such importance, has lent its potent aid in making books one of the chief luxuries of society, from the nursery to the parlor.
In comparison with many of these works, the Token was a very modest affair. The first year I offered prizes for the best pieces in prose and poetry. The highest for prose was awarded to the author of Some Passages in the Life of an Old Maid. A mysterious man, in a mysterious way, presented himself for the money, and, giving due evidence of his authority to receive it, it was paid to him; but who the author really was never transpired, though I had, and still have, my confident guess upon the subject. Even the subsequent volumes, though they obtained favor in their day, did not approach the splendor of the modern works of a similar kind. Nevertheless, some of the engravings, from the designs of Allston, Leslie, Newton, Cole, Inman, Chapman, Fisher, Brown, Alexander, Healy, and others, were very clever, even compared with the finest works of the present day.
The literary contributions were, I believe, equal, on the whole, to any of the Annuals, American or European. Here were inserted some of the earliest productions of Willis, Hawthorne, Miss Francis (now Mrs. Child), Miss Sedgwick, Mrs. Hale, Pierpont, Greenwood, and Longfellow. Several of these authors first made acquaintance with the public through the pages of this work. It is a curious fact that the latter, Longfellow, wrote prose, and at that period had shown neither a strong bias nor a particular talent for poetry.
The Token was continued annually till 1842, when it finally ceased. The day of Annuals had, indeed, passed before this was given up; and the last two or three years it had only lingered out a poor and fading existence. As a matter of business, it scarcely paid its expenses, and was a serious drawback upon my time and resources for fifteen years; a punishment, no doubt, fairly due to an obstinate pride, which made me reluctant to abandon a work with which my name and feelings had become somewhat identified.