erate rich. He admitted the possibility of doing such a thing
well or ill; but at its best it was an ill thing skillfully done.

The Bibliotaph upon his travels was a noteworthy figure if only
because of the immense parcel of books with which he burdened himself.
That part of the journeying public which loves to see some new thing
puzzled itself mightily over the gentleman of full habit, who in
addition to his not inconsiderable encumbrance of flesh and luggage,
chose to carry about a shawl-strap loaded to utmost capacity with a
composite mass of books, magazines, and newspapers. It was enormously
heavy, and the way in which its component parts adhered was but a
degree short of the miraculous. He appeared hardly conscious of its
weight, for he would pick the thing up and literally _trip_ with it on
a toe certainly not light, but undeniably fantastic.

He carried the books about with him partly because he had just
purchased them and wished to study their salient points, and partly
because he was taking them to a 'bin.' There is no mystery about these
'bins.' They were merely places of temporary rest for the books before
the grand moving to the main library. But if not mysterious they were
certainly astonishing, because of their number and size. With respect
to number, one in every large city was the rule. With respect to size,
few people buy in a lifetime as many books as were sometimes heaped
together in one of these places of deposit. He would begin by leaving
a small bundle of books with some favorite dealer, then another, and
then another. As the collection enlarged, the accommodations would be
increased; for it was a satisfaction to do the Bibliotaph this favor,
he purchased so liberally and tipped the juvenile clerks in so royal a
manner. Nor was he always in haste to move out after he had once moved
in. One bookseller, speaking of the splendid proportions which the
'bin' was assuming, declared that he sometimes found it difficult to
adjust himself mentally to the situation; he couldn't tell when he
came to his place of business in the morning whether he was in his own
shop or the Bibliotaph's library.

The corner of the shop where the great collector's accumulations were
piled up was a centre of mirth and conversation if he himself chanced
to be in town. Men dropped in for a minute and stayed an hour. In some
way time appeared to broaden and leisure to grow more ample. Life had
an unusual richness, and warmth, a