ered his composure, he finds
himself the possessor of a collection of books valuable alike from
commercial and utilitarian standpoints.

The former of these collectors is generally said to suffer from acute
bibliomania. His knowledge of books is vast but of a general kind, and
for practical purposes it cannot compare with that acquired by his
fellow-collector who had seen the folly of a headlong course. His
complaint is well known; indeed it was recognised in the first century of
our era, when Seneca condemned the rage for mere book-collecting, and
rallied those who were more pleased with the outsides than the insides of
their volumes. Lucian, too, in the next century, employed his prolific
pen in exposing this then common folly.

Even the wise collector, however, runs some risk of being engulfed by his
hobby and swept away by the flood of books. There is but one remedy, or
rather alleviation, for book-collecting is quite incurable and follows a
man to his grave (unless, of course, he be cast upon a desert island),
and that is _specialism_.

Every collector should become a specialist. It will give him a definite
ambition, something to look for among other books, something to complete;
and there is a thousand times more satisfaction in possessing a select
collection of works of a definite class or upon a definite subject, than
in the accumulation of a vast heterogeneous mass of books. He will get to
know the greater part of the works upon his own subject, become an
authority upon it in time, and perhaps will even attempt a bibliography
if it be an out-of-the-way subject. He will know precisely what he wants,
what to search for, and what price to pay. In short, he will be lifted
out of the fog of miscellaneous books into the clear atmosphere of a
definite and known class of works.

It is such an easy step, and such an immensely important one, this
determination to confine one's collecting activities to a certain class
of books. 'What a blessing it is,' said a book-loving friend not long
ago, 'not to have to worry about all sorts of books. I have never ceased
congratulating myself that I took the resolution to confine myself
entirely to Herbals. Before, I had a vast but untrustworthy knowledge of
titles and editions which a bad memory did not assist. Now, thank
goodness, I have forgotten all that, but I flatter myself that I really
do know something about Herbals.'

And what a profitless occupation is the aimless coll