light of study, "The last day is prioris discipulus." He then gives an extract from a letter of Heinsius, the Librarian of the University of Leyden."Heinsius was mewed up in that Library all the year long, and that which to my thinking should have bred a loathing, caused in him a greater liking. I no sooner (saith he) come into the Library, but I bolt the door to me, excluding Lust, Ambition, Avarice, and all such vices, whose Nurse is Idleness, the Mother of Ignorance and Melancholy. In the very lap of Eternity, amongst so many divine Souls, I take my seat with so lofty a Spirit, and sweet Content, that I pity all our great ones, and rich Men, that know not this happiness." This animated passage is the sweet incense of a votary, who scatters it on the altar, less for the ceremony, than from the sincerity of his devotion.

We must however be reminded, that there is an intemperance in Study, incompatible often with our social duties. The illustrious Grotius exposed himself to the reproaches of some of his Cotemporaries for having too warmly pursued his passion for study, to the great detriment of his public duties. It was the boast of Cicero, that his philosophical studies had never interfered with the services he owed the Republic, and that he had only dedicated to them the hours which others give to their walks, their repasts, and their pleasures. When we look on

his voluminous labours, we are surprised at this observation: how honourable is it to him, that his various philosophical works bear the titles of the different Villas he possessed! which shews that they were composed in their respective retirements. Cicero must have enjoyed the magic art of so employing his time, that he found in every day, more than twenty-four hours.

THE BIBLIOMANIA.

THE preceding Article is honourable to Literature, yet impartial truth must shew that even a passion for Collecting Books is not always a passion for Letters.

The BIBLIOMANIA, or the collecting an enormous heap of Books, without intelligent curiosity; has, since Libraries have existed, been the rage with some, who would fain pass themselves on us as men of vast erudition. Their motley Libraries have been called the Mad-houses of the human Mind; and again, the Tomb of Books when the possessor will not communicate them, and coffins them up in the cases of his Library-putting, as was facetiously observed, a Lock on the human Understanding.

The BIBLIOMANIA has never raged more violently than in the present day. It is fortunate that Literature is in no ways injured by the follies of Collectors, since though they preserve the worthless, they necessarily defend the good.

Some collectors place all their fame on the view of a splendid Library, where volumes arrayed in all the pomp of lettering, silk linings, triple gold bands and tinted leather, are locked up in wireand secured from the vulgar hands of the mere Reader, dazzling our eyes like Eastern Beauties peering through their jealousies!

BRUYERE has touched on this mania with humour; Of such a collector says he, as soon as I enter his house, I am ready to faint on the staircase, from a strong smell of Morocco leather: in vain he shews me fine Editions, gold leaves, Etruscan bindings, &c. naming them one after another, as if he were shewing a gallery of pictures! a gallery by the bye which he seldom traverses when alone, for he rarely reads, but me he offers to conduct through it! I thank him for his politeness, . and, as little as himself, care to visit the Tan-house, which he calls his Library.

LUCIAN has composed a biting invective against an ignorant possessor of a vast Library. One who opens his eyes with a hideous stare, at an old book, and after turning over the pages, chiefly admires the date of its publication! LUCIAN compares him to a pilot, who was never taught the science of navigation; to a rider who cannot keep his seat on a spirited horse; to a man who not having the use of his feet wishes to conceal the defect by wearing embroidered shoes, but alas! he cannot stand in

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them! He ludicrously compares him, to Thersites wearing the armour of Achilles, tottering at every step; leering with his little eyes under his enormous helmet, and his hunch-back raising the cuirass above his shoulders. Why do you buy so many books, he says; you have no hair, and you purchase a comb; you are blind, and you will have a grand mirror; you are deaf and you will have fine musical instruments! Your costly bindings are only a source of vexation to you, and you are continually discharging your librarians for not pre serving them from the silent invasion of the worms, and the nibbling triumphs of the rats!

Such Collectors will contemptuously smile at the collection of the amiable Melancthon. He possessed in his Library only four Authors, Plato, Pliny, Plutarch and Ptolomey!

See Bayle's Article on Ancillon, for some interesting advice on Books. Ancillon was a great collector of curious books, and dexterously de

fended himself when accused of the Bibliomania. He gave a good reason for buying the most elegant editions; which he did not consider merely as a literary luxury. He said, the less the eyes are fatigued in reading a work, the more liberty the mind feels to judge of it: as we see more clearly the excellencies and defects of a printed book than when it is in мs.: so we see them more plainly in good paper and clear type than when the

impression and paper are both bad. He always purchased first editions, and never waited for second ones; though it is the opinion of some that a first edition is generally the least valuable, and only to be considered as an imperfect Essay, which the Author proposes to finish after he has tried the sentiments of the literary world. Bayle approves of Ancillon's plan. Those who wait calmly for a book (says he) till it is reprinted, show plainly that they are resigned to their ignorance, and prefer the saving of a pistole, to the acquisition of useful knowledge. With one of these persons, who waited for a second edition, which never appeared, a literary man argued, that it was much better to have two editions of a book than to deprive himself of the advantage which the reading of the first might procure him; and it was a bad economy to prefer a few crowns, to that advantage. It has frequently happened, besides, that in second editions, the author omits, as well as adds, or makes alterations from prudential reasons; the displeasing truths he corrects (as he might call them) are so many losses incurred by Truth itself. There is an advantage in comparing the first with subsequent editions; for among other things, we feel great satisfaction in tracing the variations of a work, when a man of genius has revised it. There are also other secrets, well known to the intelligent curious, who are versed in affairs relating to