ne, of
books of reference and study; but this does not quite answer to the
idea of a bibliophile--in fact, it is little more than the digestion
into book-form of a mass of learning and useful information. Again,
if, without embracing such classes of volumes, we limit ourselves to
those which, as we express the matter above, are positively important,
we of course find on our shelves all the capital authors, ancient and
modern; yet how many we should have to reject which are accounted
indispensable to a choice cabinet! And such is apt to be more
peculiarly the case in a selection formed on Anglo-French lines, as
anybody may readily judge by examining a catalogue of this kind, where
pages and pages are occupied by irritating trifles of no solid
pretensions whatever, not even those evident in personal or heraldic
accessories.

The general rule may be applied to our modern books, that, whatever
they may be for purposes of instruction or entertainment, they seldom
represent the outlay, and still more rarely a profit upon it when the
day arrives for realising. During some time past we have witnessed the
rise and fall, or at least disappearance from the front rank, of
individuals and schools of individuals whose writings no amount of
friendly support in the press was capable of propping up beyond three
or four seasons. It is not that some of them may not hereafter, like
our older authors, return to notice and currency; but they will suffer
that intermediate period of neglect which has been experienced by
well-nigh all our greatest names in letters. There is for literature,
in common with its buyers, an earth, a purgatory, and a heaven--or
something else. The public cannot keep pace with the vast and unbroken
succession of literary produce, and the favourites of the day pass
over to neutral ground, with very few exceptions, when their honeymoon
has expired, to await the deliberate verdict of posterity on their
merit and their station. To the investor for a more or less immediate
return, however, they are precarious possessions, unless the market be
carefully watched. The wealthy and absolutely uncommercial amateur
disregards these risks and these counsels; and he is in a sense to be
envied.

The question of the First Edition is not limited to any era of
literary history and production, and the call for this class of book,
at first (as usual) rather unreasoning, begins to be more critical and
narrow. The author to be thus hono