ear
witness to the love I bear that Primer and its teachings, for each
wears the emblem I plucked from its homely pages.

That was in the springtime, Captivity Waite; anon came summer, with all
its exuberant glory, and presently the cheery autumn stole upon me.
And now it is the winter-time, and under the snows lies buried many a
sweet, fair thing I cherished once. I am aweary and will rest a little
while; lie thou there, my pen, for a dream--a pleasant dream--calleth
me away. I shall see those distant hills again, and the homestead
under the elms; the old associations and the old influences shall be
round about me, and a child shall lead me and we shall go together
through green pastures and by still waters. And, O my pen, it will be
the springtime again!

XIII

ON THE ODORS WHICH MY BOOKS EXHALE

Have you ever come out of the thick, smoky atmosphere of the town into
the fragrant, gracious atmosphere of a library? If you have, you know
how grateful the change is, and you will agree with me when I say that
nothing else is so quieting to the nerves, so conducive to physical
health, and so quick to restore a lively flow of the spirits.

Lafcadio Hearn once wrote a treatise upon perfumes, an ingenious and
scholarly performance; he limited the edition to fifty copies and
published it privately--so the book is rarely met with. Curiously
enough, however, this author had nothing to say in the book about the
smells of books, which I regard as a most unpardonable error, unless,
properly estimating the subject to be worthy of a separate treatise,
he has postponed its consideration and treatment to a time when he can
devote the requisite study and care to it.

We have it upon the authority of William Blades that books breathe;
however, the testimony of experts is not needed upon this point, for if
anybody be sceptical, all he has to do to convince himself is to open a
door of a bookcase at any time and his olfactories will be greeted by
an outrush of odors that will prove to him beyond all doubt that books
do actually consume air and exhale perfumes.

Visitors to the British Museum complain not unfrequently that they are
overcome by the closeness of the atmosphere in that place, and what is
known as the British Museum headache has come to be recognized by the
medical profession in London as a specific ailment due to the absence
of oxygen in the atmosphere, which condition is caused by the multitude
of books, eac