on us to look well to the
future fate of our libraries--to look well to their being _creditably
catalogued_--"For" (and indeed it _is_ the voice of West's spirit that
speaks) "my collection was barbarously murdered; and hence I am doomed
to wander for a century, to give warning to the ----, ----, and ----,
of the day, to execute this useful task with their own hands! Yes;
even the name of PATERSON has not saved my collection from censure;
but his hands were then young and inexperienced--yet I suffer from
this innocent error!" Away, away, vexed spirit--and let thy head rest
in peace beneath the sod!

ALMAN. For heaven's sake, into what society are we introduced, sister?
All mad--book mad! but I hope harmless.

LYSAND. Allay your apprehensions; for, though we may have the
energies of the lion, we have the gentleness of the "unweaned lamb."
But, in describing so many and such discordant characters, how can I
proceed in the jog-trot way of--"next comes such a one--and then
follows another--and afterwards proceeds a third, and now a fourth!?"

ALMAN. Sir, you are right, and I solicit your forgiveness. If I have
not sufficient bookish enthusiasm to fall down and worship your
CAXTONIAN DEITY, JAMES WEST, I am at least fully disposed to concede
him every excellent and amiable quality which sheds lustre upon a
literary character.

LYSAND. All offence is expiated: for look, the spirit walks off
calmly--and seems to acknowledge, with satisfaction, such proper
sentiments in the breast of one whose father and brother have been
benefited by his book treasures.

The rapturous, and, I fear you will think, the wild and incoherent,
manner in which I have noticed the sale of the _Bibliotheca Westiana_
had nearly driven from my recollection that, in the preceding, the
same, and subsequent, year, there was sold by auction a very curious
and extraordinary collection of books and Prints belonging to honest
TOM MARTIN,[389] _of Palgrave_, in Suffolk: a collector of whom, if I
remember rightly, Herbert has, upon several occasions, spoken with a
sort of veneration. If Lavater's system of physiognomy happen to
receive your approbation, you will conclude, upon contemplating Tom's
frank countenance--of which a cut precedes the title-page of the first
catalogue--that the collector of Palgrave must have been "a fine old
fellow." Martin's book-pursuits were miscellaneous, and perhaps a
little too wildly followed up; yet some good fortune contrib