k back, he must have known a good deal about
old books; but I had no interest then, so they made little impression."

Huntington glanced around at the shelves critically.

"Classics, classics, classics!" he cried. "Good heavens, man, do you
mean to tell me that you haven't any modern books at all?"

Hamlen flushed. "There are many of these which I don't know well yet,"
was his reply. "Until then why should I accept counterfeits?"

Huntington had already found the shelf which held the _incunabula_ and
the later examples of printing.

"Jenson, Aldus--ah, here is the 'Hypnerotomachia Poliphili,' and a
splendid copy! That is the only illustrated volume Aldus ever issued,"
he explained to Merry as he turned the pages. "Here is where you found
that half-diamond formation of the type," he added, speaking to Hamlen,
and pointing to the printed page.

Hamlen bent forward. "I didn't even remember that it had ever been
used," he said. "I simply felt the necessity of filling out my page."

"So did Aldus," Huntington answered significantly. "Here is one of
Etienne's Greek books. Splendid work, isn't it? And yet, after giving
France the crown of typographical supremacy which Italy had lost, he had
to flee for his life because he wouldn't let his books be censored!"

"My father had a fine copy of Plantin's 'Polyglot Bible.'" Hamlen drew
one of the massive volumes from the shelf.

"Yes," Huntington replied, glancing critically at it and then at several
of the other books; "your father must have known his subject well, for
these examples follow the supremacy of printing from Italy down to
modern times. See, starting with Aldus, you have one of Etienne's, then
one of Plantin's, representing the period when Belgium snatched the
prestige from France, then here is a 'Terence' of Elzevir's, printed
when Holland was supreme; then Baskerville's 'Vergil,' which gave
England the crown in the eighteenth century--"

"Where does Caxton come in?" Merry asked.

"He belongs to the period of Aldus, but his work was distinctly inferior
to that of his Italian rival.--I say, Hamlen, where did your father go,
after Baskerville?"

Huntington, continuing his examination of the volumes, answered his own
question. "Here it is,--a beautiful example of Didot's 'Racine,' printed
in that type which he and Bodoni cut together. Splendid judgment your
father showed! This explains everything: you come naturally by your
genius. What you have called instinc