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natural to treasure more "Les Essais de Michel Seigneur de

Montaigne," that were printed by Francoise le Febre, of Lyon, in

1595.  It is not a beautiful book; the type is small, and rather

blunt, but William Drummond of Hawthornden has written on the title-

page his name and his device, Cipresso e Palma.  There are a dozen

modern editions of Moliere more easily read than the four little

volumes of Wetstein (Amsterdam, 1698), but these contain reduced

copies of the original illustrations, and here you see Arnolphe and

Agnes in their habits as they lived, Moliere and Mdlle. de Brie as

the public of Paris beheld them more than two hundred years ago.

Suckling's "Fragmenta Aurea" contain a good deal of dross, and most

of the gold has been gathered into Miscellanies, but the original

edition of 1646, "after his own copies," with the portrait of the

jolly cavalier who died aetatis suae 28, has its own allurement.

Theocritus is more easily read, perhaps, in Wordsworth's edition, or

Ziegler's; but that which Zacharias Calliergi printed in Rome

(1516), with an excommunication from Leo X. against infringement of

copyright, will always be a beautiful and desirable book, especially

when bound by Derome.  The gist of the pious Prince Conti's

strictures on the wickedness of comedy may be read in various

literary histories, but it is natural to like his "Traite de la

Comedie selon la tradition de l'Eglise, Tiree des Conciles et des

saints Peres," published by Lovys Billaine in 1660, especially when

the tract is a clean copy, arrayed in a decorous black morocco.

These are but a few common examples, chosen from a meagre little

library, a "twopenny treasure-house," but they illustrate, on a

minute scale, the nature of the collector's passion,--the character

of his innocent pleasures.  He occasionally lights on other literary

relics of a more personal character than mere first editions.  A

lucky collector lately bought Shelley's copy of Ossian, with the

poet's signature on the title-page, in Booksellers' Row.  Another

possesses a copy of Foppens's rare edition of Petrarch's "Le Sage

Resolu contre l'une et l'autre Fortune," which once belonged to Sir

Hudson Lowe, the gaoler of Napoleon, and may have fortified, by its

stoical maxims, the soul of one who knew the extremes of either

fortune, the captive of St. Helena.  But the best example of a book,

which is also a relic, is the "Imitatio Christi," which belonged to

J. J. Rousseau.  Let M. Tenant de Latour, lately the happy owner of

this possession, tell his own story of his treasure:  It was in 1827

that M. de Latour was walking on the quai of the Louvre.  Among the

volumes in a shop, he noticed a shabby little copy of the "Imitatio

Christi."  M. de Latour, like other bibliophiles, was not in the

habit of examining stray copies of this work, except when they were

of the Elzevir size, for the Elzevirs published a famous undated

copy of the "Imitatio," a book which brings considerable prices.

However, by some lucky chance, some Socratic daemon whispering, may

be, in his ear, he picked up the little dingy volume of the last

century.  It was of a Paris edition, 1751, but what was the name on

the fly-leaf.  M. de Latour read a J. J. Rousseau.  There was no

mistake about it, the good bibliophile knew Rousseau's handwriting

perfectly well; to make still more sure he paid his seventy-five

centimes for the book, and walked across the Pont des Arts, to his

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