to do with a phase of
character rather than a fact of history; that is, it must deal in a
great way with what is always interesting to all men. Humor that does
not meet this requirement is not likely, when its novelty has worn
off, to be read even occasionally save by those who enjoy it as an
intellectual performance or who are making a critical study of its
author.' The observation, if not profound, is at least sensible, and
it illustrates very well the Bibliotaph's love of alliteration and
antithesis. But it is easier to remember and to report his caustic and
humorous remarks.

The Country Squire had a card-catalogue of the books in his library,
and he delighted to make therein entries of his past and his new
purchases. But it was not always possible to find upon the shelves
books that were mentioned in the catalogue. The Bibliotaph took
advantage of a few instances of this sort to prod his moneyed friend.
He would ask the Squire if he had such-and-such a book. The Squire
would say that he had, and appeal to his catalogue in proof of it.
Then would follow a search for the volume. If, as sometimes happened,
no book corresponding to the entry could be found, the Bibliotaph
would be satirical and remark:--

'I'll tell you what you ought to name your catalogue.'

'What?'

'Great expectations!'

Another time he said, 'This is not a list of your books, this is a
list of the things that you intend to buy;' or he would suggest that
the Squire would do well to christen his catalogue _Vaulting
Ambition_. Perhaps the variation might take this form. After a
fruitless search for some book, which upon the testimony of the
catalogue was certainly in the collection, the Bibliotaph would
observe, 'This catalogue might not inappropriately be spoken of as the
substance of things hoped for, and the evidence of things not seen.'
Another time the Bibliotaph said to the Squire, calling to mind the
well-known dictum as to the indispensableness of certain books,
'Between what one sees on your shelves and what one reads in your
card-catalogue one would have reason to believe that you were a
gentleman.'

Once the Bibliotaph said to me in the presence of the Squire: 'I think
that our individual relation to books might be expressed in this way.
You read books but you don't buy them. I buy books but I don't read
them. The Squire neither reads them nor buys them,--only
card-catalogues them!'

To all this the Squire had a reply which was