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book-collector is ever in communion with the _manes_ of those who gave
birth to his books. He is brother to author, paper-maker, compositor,
publisher, and binder, understanding all their hopes, doubts, and fears,
in sympathy with all the thoughts that gave his volumes their shape,
size, and appearance. Have you not often realised, brother collector, the
_spirit_ that is hidden in every old book, the concentrated thoughts that
have been materialised in giving it birth? Surely thoughts never die.
'Our thoughts are heard in heaven' wrote a neglected poet, and are not
books 'sepulchres of thought'?

Happier is the book-collector than he who acquires ancient pieces of
furniture, old vases, or pewter mugs. For, unlike the old book, these
things can be reproduced in facsimile so that you may not tell the
difference between old and new, and the reproduction may be stronger and
more serviceable than the original. Moreover he is not troubled with
qualms as to their genuineness, undergoing agonies of apprehension while
each treasure--or otherwise--is submitted to the scrutiny of friends and
experts.

There is a lasting charm about a book of our choice which the
antique-collector can never hope to experience. His treasure may be
grotesque or it may be beautiful, in either case it may please the eye
every time that he behold it, through many years. But beyond pleasure to
the eye and perhaps a smug complacency in its possession, there is
nothing else. He knows it inside-out, as it were, within a few minutes of
its acquisition. Very different, however, is the case with a book. After
the attraction exercised by its ancient appearance, the exterior aspect
is in reality but a secondary consideration, and when we have expressed
ourselves as to whether it be a fine or a poor copy, we turn at once to
its contents. The very wording of the title-page gives us an inkling of
the writer's character, places us upon his plane, and tunes our thoughts
in harmony with his.

What book-lover does not sympathise with that great man Lenglet du
Fresnoy? Perhaps few men have come so completely under the spell of
books; for he devoted a long life entirely to consuming the fruits of the
master minds that had gone before him. In spite of the gossip concerning
him, not always to his credit, that has come down to us, it is undeniable
that by sheer love and knowledge of books he piled up a monument that
will ever keep his name in memory among bibliophiles