s for a certain year was a book from the Bibliotaph, a
copy of _Old-Fashioned Roses_, with this dedication: 'To a Kid, had
Abraham possessed which, Isaac had been the burnt-offering.'

It is as a buyer and burier of books that the subject of this paper
showed himself in most interesting light. He said that the time to
make a library was when one was young. He held the foolish notion that
a man does not purchase books after he is fifty; I shall expect to see
him ransacking the shops after he is seventy, if he shall survive his
eccentricities of diet that long. He was an omnivorous buyer, picking
up everything he could lay his hands upon. Yet he had a clearly
defined motive for the acquisition of every volume. However absurd the
purchase might seem to the bystander, he, at any rate, could have
given six cogent reasons why he must have that particular book.

He bought according to the condition of his purse at a given time. If
he had plenty of money, it would be expensive publications, like those
issued by the Grolier Club. If he was financially depressed, he would
hunt in the out-of-door shelves of well-known Philadelphia bookshops.
It was marvelous to see what things, new and old, he was able to
extract from a ten-cent alcove. Part of the secret lay in this idea:
to be a good book-hunter one must not be too dainty; one must not be
afraid of soiling one's hands. He who observes the clouds shall not
reap, and he who thinks of his cuffs is likely to lose many a bookish
treasure. Our Bibliotaph generally parted company with his cuffs when
he began hunting for books. How many times have I seen those cuffs
with the patent fasteners sticking up in the air, as if reaching out
helplessly for their owner; the owner in the mean time standing high
upon a ladder which creaked under his weight, humming to himself as he
industriously examined every volume within reach. This ability to live
without cuffs made him prone to reject altogether that orthodox bit of
finish to a toilet. I have known him to spend an entire day in New
York between club, shops, and restaurant, with one cuff on, and the
other cuff--its owner knew not where.

He differed from Heber in that he was not 'a classical scholar of the
old school,' but there were many points in which he resembled the
famous English collector. Heber would have acknowledged him as a son
if only for his energy, his unquenchable enthusiasm, and the exactness
of his knowledge concerning the b