library wall. As we crossed the Park front going from Fifth Avenue east
to west, he paused, and leaning on his cane gazed skyward, where the
outlines of some buildings, in process of construction on Fifty-ninth
Street, and then considered high, stood out against the sky. "'Poor New
York,' he said, half to himself, half to me, 'created and yet cramped by
force of her watery boundaries, where shall her sons and daughters find
safe dwelling-places? They have covered the ground with their
habitations, and even now they are climbing into the sky.' And he went on
leaving his question unanswered.

* * * * *

"A caller interrupted me yesterday, a most persistent fellow and a
dangerous one to the purse of the tyro collector of Americana, though not
to me. He was a man of some pretence to classic education, and
superficially versed in lore of title, date, and _editio princeps_. He
had half a dozen prints of rarity and value had they not been forgeries,
and a book ... that I had long sought after in its original form, but the
only copy I had seen for many years when put up at auction lacked the
title page and fully half a dozen leaves, besides having some other
defects. Would you believe it, Dick, this copy was that from the auction,
its defects repaired, its missing leaves replaced by careful forgery, and
what is more, I know the vender was aware of the deceit. But he will sell
it to some young moneyed sprig who will not know.

"I was angry, Dick, very angry, and yet all this is a trivial part of
what we have a long time been discussing. The sudden glint of wealth in
certain quarters has changed the aspect of even book collecting, that
once most individual of occupations, and syndicated it.