"To be sure," replied Hull; "why, my dear sir, it is not worth my while to come out of the city unless I spend seventy or eighty pounds in the morning—I cannot afford the time for less."
"And what is it about?" said I, innocently.
"Why, I do not happen to know that," said Hull; "it is an essay, I believe, to prove that Edward the Fourth never had the toothache; but it is, as you see, in Latin, and I don't read Latin."
"Then why buy it?" said I.
"Buy!" exclaimed he, looking at me through his glass with an expression of astonishment—"I buy thousands of books!—pooh, pooh! millions, my dear sir, in the course of a year, but I never think of reading them—my dear friend, I have no time to read."
I confess I did not exactly comprehend the character of the bibliomania, which appeared to engross my friend, nor the particular gratification which the purchase of the unreadable works seemed to afford him. But he only curled up his mouth, as much as to say that I was a dunce, and that there was a sort of delight—felt in common with magpies, I presume—of picking up objects and hiding them away in dark holes and corners.—Gilbert Gurney.
ABSENCE OF MIND.
Absence of mind may be defined to be a slowness of mind, in speaking or in action. The absent man is one who, when he is reckoning up a bill, and hath collected the particulars, will ask a by-stander what the amount is. When he is engaged in a law-suit, and the day of trial comes, he forgets it, and goes into the country. He goes to the theatre to see the play, and is left behind, asleep upon the benches. He takes any article, and puts it away securely; then he begins to look for it, and is never able to find it. If a man comes and tells him of the death of a friend, and asks him to the funeral, he says, with a melancholy countenance, and tears in his eyes, "What uncommon good luck!" When he receives money, he calls men to witness the transaction; when he pays a debt, he does not. He quarrels with his servant for not bringing him cucumbers in winter; and forces his children to run and wrestle for their health, till they are ready to die of fatigue. When in the country, he dresses his dinner of herbs, he salts them until they are unfit to eat. And if anybody ask him, "How many dead have been carried through the sacred gate, to be buried?" he answers, "I wish to my heart you and I had half as many."