ks are
his servants rather than his companions, and he affects to despise and
laugh at the sentimental relation which others have established with
their books. Look out for that man! He is not of us; he is not of the
elect; there is as little of warmth and the genial glow of fellowship
in his library as in the middle gallery of the catacombs in the Appian
Way. His very books cry out against him; but he hears them not, for he
is deaf as well as blind."

One of the busiest men in New York City, whose name is familiar in
financial circles throughout the civilized world, is one of the most
voracious collectors of the age. He probably transacts more business
in a day than half a dozen ordinarily busy men, and yet finds time to
give his personal attention to every minute detail of his vast
collections, to which are added hundreds, and probably thousands, of
items every year. This is only one of many such examples among our
busiest men.

I have often heard persons lament in a pensive and apologetic sort of
way, "Yes, I have a great weakness for fine books." The very presence
of this mis-called weakness, however, is unmistakable proof of great
mental strength, and those who suffer from it may find solace in the
fact that the giants of commerce, leading statesmen, and great men of
affairs in general are frequently thus afflicted all through the
periods of their greatest activity and success. What can possibly
afford a more agreeable relaxation from the toils and perplexities of
the day than to recline in an easy chair before an open grate fire in
the library, surrounded by the silently reposing tomes which record
and preserve the noblest thoughts of past and present generations?
Surely no enjoyment in the home or office can be more delectable and
unfailing in assuaging the worry and solicitude of a strenuous life
than the silent companionship of books. It is a noteworthy fact that a
large percentage of the leading stock brokers, bankers, active
statesmen, and sedulous lawyers are bibliophiles. I attribute this to
the fact that all of these vocations are extremely taxing upon the
nervous system, and those men who are busily engaged in them are,
during the intermittent hours of rest and recreation, naturally
inclined to seek the most enjoyable and refreshing diversions; for, as
Horace says,--

. . . nunc veterum libris, nunc somno et inertibus horis
Ducere sollicitae jocunda oblivia vitae.

Along with old books,