pipestem:

But walk'st about thine own dear bounds,
Not envying others' larger grounds:
For well thou know'st, 'tis not th' extent
Of land makes life, but sweet content.

Loder's memory used to go back to times that seem almost fabulous now.
He had known quite well an English soldier who was on guard over Boney
at St. Helena--in fact, he once published in some newspaper this man's
observations upon the fallen emperor, but I have not been able to trace
the piece. He had been in Paris before the troubles of '48. I believe he
served some sort of bookselling apprenticeship on Paternoster Row; at
any rate, he used to be in touch with the London book trade as a young
man, and made the acquaintance of Bernard Quaritch, one of the world's
most famous booksellers. I remember his lamenting that FitzGerald had
not dumped the two hundred unsold booklets of Omar upon his counter
instead of Quaritch's in 1859. The story goes that they were offered by
Quaritch for a penny apiece.

I always used to steer him onto the subject of FitzGerald sooner or
later, and it was interesting to hear him tell how many princes of the
literary world had come to his shop or had corresponded with him owing
to his knowledge of E.F.G. Arme Thackeray gave him a beautiful portrait
of herself in return for some courtesy he showed her. Robert H. Groome,
the archdeacon of Suffolk, and his brilliant son, Francis Hindes Groome,
the "Tarno Rye" (who wrote "Two Suffolk Friends" and was said by Watts
Dunton to have known far more about the gipsies than Borrow) were among
his correspondents.[D] John Hay, Elihu Vedder, Aldis Wright, Canon
Ainger, Thomas B. Mosher, Clement Shorter, Dewitt Miller, Edward Clodd,
Leon Vincent--such men as these wrote or came to John Loder when they
wanted special news about FitzGerald. FitzGerald had given him a great
many curios and personal treasures: Mr. Loder never offered these for
sale at any price (anything connected with FitzGerald was sacred to him)
but if any one happened along who seemed able to appreciate them he
would give them away with delight. He gave to me FitzGerald's old
musical scrapbook, which he had treasured for over thirty years. This
scrapbook, in perfect condition, contains very beautiful engravings,
prints, and drawings of the famous composers, musicians, and operatic
stars of whom Fitz was enivre as a young man. Among them are a great
many drawings of Handel; FitzGerald, like Samuel Butler,