text inadvertently
omitted--all these and a legion of others have had their day; and to
some of them it happens that they drop out of view for a season, and
then reappear for a second or third brief term of life and favour; and
therefore, it being so, who can have the heart to blame the parties
that in the exercise of their vocation make hay while the sun shines?
There is one personage, and one alone, who makes it whether or no,
summer and winter, to wit, the auctioneer; his commission is assured;
on what or from whom he gets it he cares not. He cheerfully leaves the
adjustment of accounts to gentlemen outside.

The circumstances under which a new departure takes place, often
without much previous warning, in the book-market, and disturbs the
calculations of holders of certain classes of stock, are infinitely
varied. The bibliographical barometer is surprisingly sensitive, and
the slightest change of fashion in the older literature, and even in
those sections of the more recent which embrace acknowledged rarities,
is instantaneously felt. In some branches of collecting, and where the
prices of commodities are such as to exclude all but a knot of wealthy
amateurs, the entrance of a new-comer on the ground makes a vital
difference, especially if the market is in need of support from
existing wants having been supplied; and if one goes about a little,
one hears men whispering in corners and questioning who the stranger
is, and for what he is likely to prove good. Should he be a strong
man, that is, in purse, you will soon perceive, if you keep your eye
on the auction-room, another strong man buying at all costs against
all comers just the articles which commend themselves to the first
_dramatis persona_. He buys nearly everything; they are for him alone,
unless there are two in the field concurrently, and then one may be
conveniently played off against the other. A small field it is!

And this interesting commercial strategy is always going on, while the
objects of pursuit continually vary. The dealer looks after, not his
own desiderata--for he has none--but those of his immediate clients.
In a large business a man is likely to have many; but the class which
repays study, which turns sovereigns into bank-notes for him, is not a
numerous one. Half-a-dozen first-rate customers keep a shop open even
in the most fashionable and expensive thoroughfare. The late Joseph
Lilly leant during his last years mainly on one. A collecto