everal years. The castigation proved beneficial
to the club; and if its revelries were no less boisterous than
heretofore, it at all events circulated among its members books worthy
of the name of Roxburghe, and edited in a scholarly manner. The club
still flourishes, with the Marquis of Salisbury as its president, and
the list of its members will be found in our chapter on 'Modern
Collectors.'

[Illustration: _Rev. C. Mordaunt Cracherode, M.A., Book-collector._]

One of the mighty book-hunters of the last century was the Rev. Clayton
Mordaunt Cracherode (whose father went out as a commander of marines in
Anson's ship, and whose share in the prize-money made him a wealthy
man), who died on April 6, 1799, in his seventieth year. His splendid
library now forms a part of the British Museum. It contains the most
choice copies in classical and Biblical literature, and many of these
are on vellum. His collection of editions of the fifteenth century Mr.
Cracherode used modestly to call a 'specimen' one; 'they form perhaps
the most perfect _collana_ or necklace ever strung by one man.' Several
of the books formerly belonged to Grolier. His library was valued at
L10,000 at or about the time of his death; it would probably now realize
considerably over ten times that amount if submitted to auction. The
value of his prints was placed at L5,000. Cracherode was an excellent
scholar, and an amiable; his passion for collecting was strong even in
death, for whilst he was at the last extremity his agent was making
purchases for him. He was one of the most constant habitues of Tom
Payne's, and at his final visit he put an Edinburgh Terence in one
pocket and a large-paper Cebes in the other. His house was in Queen
Square, Westminster, overlooking St. James's Park.

Reverting once more to the change which had been effected in the fancies
of book-collectors, James Bindley, whose library was sold after his
decease in 1819, and James Perry, who died in 1821, may be regarded as
typical collectors of the transition period. Both are essentially London
book-hunters--the former was an official in the Stamp Office, and the
latter was, _inter alia_, the editor of the _Morning Chronicle_.
Bindley, to whom John Nichols dedicated his 'Literary Anecdotes,' was a
book-hunter who made very practical use of his scholarly tastes and
ample means. He haunted the bookstalls and shops with the pertinacity of
a tax-gatherer, and if his original expenditure wer