ook-collector began an elaborate and
exhaustive defense of the gentleman whose claims to beauty had been
questioned. At first it was dialogue, and the opponent had his share
of talk; but when in an unlucky moment he hinted that such energy
could only be the result of consciousness on the Bibliotaph's part
that he was in a measure pleading his own cause, the dialogue changed
to monologue. For the Bibliotaph girded up his loins and proceeded to
smite his opponent hip and thigh. All in good humor, to be sure, and
laughter reigned, but it was tremendous and it was logically
convincing. It was clearly not safe to have a reputation for good
looks while the Bibliotaph was in this temper. All the gentlemen were
in terror lest something about their countenances might be construed
as beauty, and men with good complexions longed for newspapers behind
which to hide their disgrace.

As for the disputant who had stirred up the monster, his situation was
as unenviable as it was comic to the bystanders. He had never before
dropped a stone into the great geyser. He was therefore unprepared for
the result. One likened him to an unprotected traveler in a heavy
rain-storm. For the Bibliotaph's unpremeditated speech was a very
cloud-burst of eloquence. The unhappy gentleman looked despairingly in
every direction as if beseeching us for the loan of a word-proof
umbrella. There was none to be had. We who had known a like experience
were not sorry to stand under cover and watch a fellow mortal undergo
this verbal drenching. The situation recalled one described by
Lockhart when a guest differed on a point of scholarship with the
great Coleridge. Coleridge began to 'exert himself.' He burst into a
steady stream of talk which broadened and deepened as the moments
fled. When finally it ceased the bewildered auditor pulled himself
together and exclaimed, 'Zounds, I was never so _be-thumped_ with
words in my life!'

People who had opportunity of observing the Bibliotaph were tempted to
speculate on what he might have become if he had not chosen to be just
what he was. His versatility led them to declare for this, that, and
the other profession, largely in accordance with their own personal
preferences. Lawyers were sure that he should have been an advocate;
ministers that he would have done well to yield to the 'call' he had
in his youth; teachers were positive that he would have made an
inspiring teacher. No one, so far as I know, ever told him t