[13] I confess that I do, but then I am hopelessly out of date, or I shouldn't be fond of Elzeviers.
CHAPTER II
THE LIBRARY
'Unto their lodgings then his guestes he riddes:
Where when all drownd in deadly sleepe he findes,
He to his studie goes.'— Spenser.
hat magic there is for the book-lover in that word 'library'! Does it not instantly conjure up a vision of happy solitude, a peaceful seclusion where we may lie hidden from our fellow-creatures, an absence of idle chatter to distract our thoughts, and countless books about us on either hand? No man with any pretensions to learning can possibly fail to be impressed when he enters an ancient library, older perhaps by generations than the art of printing itself.
'With awe, around these silent walks I tread,
These are the lasting mansions of the dead:
"The dead!" methinks a thousand tongues reply,
"These are the tombs of such as cannot die!"
Crowned with eternal fame, they sit sublime,
And laugh at all the little strife of time.'