sleep, and all his seven visions floating round him in little circles
like soap-bubbles? Probably because the book was published by Clement
Malassis, and perhaps he was a forefather of that whimsical Frenchman,
Poulet Malassis, who published for Banville, and Baudelaire, and Charles
Asselineau. It was a bad reason. More likely the mere cheapness
attracted me.

Curiosity, not cheapness, assuredly, betrayed me into another purchase.
If I want to read "The Pilgrim's Progress," of course I read it in John
Bunyan's good English. Then why must I ruin myself to acquire "Voyage
d'un Chrestien vers l'Eternite. Ecrit en Anglois, par Monsieur Bunjan,
F.M., en Bedtfort, et nouvellement traduit en Francois. Avec Figures. A
Amsterdam, chez Jean Boekholt Libraire pres de la Bourse, 1685"? I
suppose this is the oldest French version of the famed allegory. Do you
know an older? Bunyan was still living and, indeed, had just published
the second part of the book, about Christian's wife and children, and the
deplorable young woman whose name was Dull.

As the little volume, the Elzevir size, is bound in blue morocco, by
Cuzin, I hope it is not wholly a foolish bargain; but what do I want,
after all, with a French "Pilgrim's Progress"? These are the errors a
man is always making who does not collect books with system, with a
conscience and an aim.

Do have a specially. Make a collection of works on few subjects, well
chosen. And what subjects shall they be? That depends on taste.
Probably it is well to avoid the latest fashion. For example, the
illustrated French books of the eighteenth century are, at this moment,
_en hausse_. There is a "boom" in them. Fifty years ago Brunet, the
author of the great "Manuel," sneered at them. But, in his, "Library
Companion," Dr. Dibdin, admitted their merit. The illustrations by
Gravelot, Moreau, Marillier, and the rest, are certainly delicate,
graceful, full of character, stamped with style. But only the proofs
before letters are very much valued, and for these wild prices are given
by competitive millionaires. You cannot compete with them.

It is better wholly to turn the back on these books and on any others at
the height of the fashion, unless you meet them for fourpence on a stall.
Even then should a gentleman take advantage of a poor bookseller's
ignorance? I don't know. I never fell into the temptation, because I
never was tempted. Bargains, real bargains, are so rare th