object let a man speculate or become a miser. . . Let not the
collector ever, unless in some urgent and necessary circumstances,
part with any of his treasures. Let him not even have recourse to
that practice called barter, which political philosophers tell us is
the universal resource of mankind preparatory to the invention of
money. Let him confine all his transactions in the market to
purchasing only. No good comes of gentlemen-amateurs buying and
selling." There is room for difference of opinion here, but there
seems to be most reason on the side of Mr. Hill Burton. It is one
thing for the collector to be able to reflect that the money he
expends on books is not lost, and that his family may find
themselves richer, not poorer, because he indulged his taste. It is
quite another thing to buy books as a speculator buys shares,
meaning to sell again at a profit as soon as occasion offers. It is
necessary also to warn the beginner against indulging extravagant
hopes. He must buy experience with his books, and many of his first
purchases are likely to disappoint him. He will pay dearly for the
wrong "Caesar" of 1635, the one WITHOUT errors in pagination; and
this is only a common example of the beginner's blunders.
Collecting is like other forms of sport; the aim is not certain at
first, the amateur is nervous, and, as in angling, is apt to
"strike" (a bargain) too hurriedly.

I often think that the pleasure of collecting is like that of sport.
People talk of "book-hunting," and the old Latin motto says that
"one never wearies of the chase in this forest." But the analogy to
angling seems even stronger. A collector walks in the London or
Paris streets, as he does by Tweed or Spey. Many a lordly mart of
books he passes, like Mr. Quaritch's, Mr. Toovey's, or M.
Fontaine's, or the shining store of M.M. Morgand et Fatout, in the