llustration]

Passing now to those who, in one way or another, are to meet with
and handle the completed book, we may begin with a class of _literary
barnacles_ who stick about the libraries of their friends and of the
public institutions, and feed their bibliophilistic appetites on what
others have spent much time and money in collecting. These may perhaps
more appropriately be called biblio-spongers, and are of all ranks in
the community, many even owning beautiful homes, and having ample
resources at command; but while enjoying the congenial atmosphere of a
well-furnished library, and the delights of caressing the precious and
wisely selected tomes of others, they are still of such temperaments
that they would no more think of _buying_ books than would another of
buying an opera-house in order to satisfy theatre-going propensities.
These people should be taught that fine books, like friends, are not
loanable or exchangeable chattels. They will argue that there is no
use spending money for books, because they reside within easy reach of
a public library where such books as they desire are readily
obtainable, or perhaps suggest that "I have free access to my friend
Smith's library; he scarcely ever uses it;" without reflecting that
Smith would probably use it more, if his friends used it less. And yet
such folk will still incur the needless expense of providing their own
homes with chairs, unless, haply, such homes may chance to be within
convenient reach of some park or public institution where _free_ seats
are provided.

Most of us are disposed to idealize a besotted bibliomaniac as a
harmless being whose companionship and favor are neither to be courted
nor particularly avoided,--a sort of shellfish basking on the bank of
life's flow in whatever sunshine it may absorb, and paying little heed
to the thoughts or actions of others.

The following curious inscription which is found on an old
copperplate print of the famous bibliomaniac, John Murray, will
illustrate one of the varieties:--

Hoh Maister John Murray of Sacomb,
The Works of old Time to collect was his pride,
Till Oblivion dreaded his Care:
Regardless of Friends, intestate he dy'd,
So the Rooks and the Crows were his Heir.

Mr. Nathan Haskell Dole, President of The Bibliophile Society, aptly
describes a miserly bibliomaniac as a

Victim of a frenzied passion,
He is lean and lank and crusty;
Naught he cares for