other motive is there for reading it at
all?'

He purchased every copy of this book which he could find, and when
asked by the author why he did so, replied, 'In order to withdraw it
from circulation.' A moment afterwards he added reflectively, 'But how
may I hope to withdraw a book from that which it has never had?'

He was apt to be severe in his judgment of books, as when he said of a
very popular but very feeble literary performance that it was an
argument for the existence of God. 'Such intensity of stupidity was
not realized without Infinite assistance.'

He could be equally emphatic in his comments upon men. Among his
acquaintance was a church dignitary who blew alternately hot and cold
upon him. When advised of some new illustration of the divine's
uncertainty of attitude, the Bibliotaph merely said, 'He's more of a
chameleon than he is a clergyman.'

That Bostonian would be deficient in wit who failed to enjoy this
remark. Speaking of the characteristics of American cities, the
Bibliotaph said, 'It never occurs to the Hub that anything of
importance can possibly happen at the periphery.'

He greatly admired the genial and philanthropic editor of a well-known
Philadelphia newspaper. Shortly after Mr. Childs's death some one
wrote to the Bibliotaph that in a quiet Kentucky town he had noticed a
sign over a shop-door which read, 'G. W. Childs, dealer in Tobacco and
Cigars.' There was something graceful in the Bibliotaph's reply. He
expressed surprise at Mr. Childs's new occupation, but declared that
for his own part he was 'glad to know that the location of Heaven had
at last been definitely ascertained.'

The Bibliotaph habitually indulged himself in the practice of
hero-worship. This propensity led him to make those glorified
scrap-books which were so striking a feature in his collection. They
were no commonplace affairs, the ugly result of a union of cheap
leather, newspaper-clippings and paste, but sumptuous books
resplendent in morocco and gilt tooling, the creations of an artist
who was eminent among binders. These scrap-books were chiefly devoted
to living men,--men who were famous, or who were believed to be on the
high road to fame. There was a book for each man. In this way did the
Bibliotaph burn incense before his Dii majores et minores.

These books were enriched with everything that could illustrate the
gifts and virtues of the men in whose honor they were made. They
contained rare manuscrip