liographical notices, as a specimen of his hand writing and of
his manner of pursuing his enquiries.[100]

Such are the feelings, and such the gratifications; connected with a view
of the LIBRARY of STE. GENEVIEVE. Whenever I visit it, I imagine that the
gentle spirit of MERCIER yet presides there; and that, as it is among the
most ancient, so is it among the most interesting, of BOOK LOCALS in Paris.

Come away with me, now, to a rival collection of books--in the MAZARINE
COLLEGE, or Institute. Of the magnificence of the exterior of this building
I have made mention in a previous letter. My immediate business is with the
interior; and more especially with that portion of it which relates to
_paper_ and _print_. You are to know, however, that this establishment
contains _two Libraries_; one, peculiar to the Institute, and running at
right angles with the room in which the members of that learned body
assemble: the other, belonging to the College, to the left, on entering the
first square--from the principal front.

The latter is the _old_ collection, of the time of Cardinal Mazarin, and
with _that_ I begin. It is deposited chiefly on the first floor; in two
rooms running at right angles with each other: the two, about 140 feet
long. These rooms may be considered very lofty; certainly somewhat more
elevated than those in the Royal Library. The gallery is supported by
slender columns, of polished oak, with Corinthian capitals. The general
appearance is airy and imposing. A huge globe, eight feet in diameter, is
in the centre of the angle where the two rooms meet. The students read in
either apartment: and, as usual, the greatest order and silence prevail.
But not a _Fust and Schoiffher_--nor a _Sweynheym and Pannartz_--nor an
_Ulric Han_--in this lower region ... although they say the collection
contains about 90,000 volumes. What therefore is to be done? The attendant
sees your misery, and approaches: "Que desirez vous, Monsieur?" That
question was balm to my agitated spirits. "Are the old and more curious
books deposited here?" "Be seated, Sir. You shall know in an instant." Away
goes this obliging creature, and pulls a bell by the side of a small door.
In a minute, a gentleman, clothed in black--the true bibliographical
attire--descends. The attendant points to me: we approach each other: "A la
bonne heure--je suis charme...." You will readily guess the remainder.
"Donnez vous la peine de monter." I followed my guide u