Passage des Panoramas. Here I always feel like Brassicanus in the
king of Hungary's collection, "non in Bibliotheca, sed in gremio
Jovis;" "not in a library, but in paradise." It is not given to
every one to cast angle in these preserves. They are kept for dukes
and millionaires. Surely the old Duke of Roxburghe was the happiest
of mortals, for to him both the chief bookshops and auction rooms,
and the famous salmon streams of Floors, were equally open, and he
revelled in the prime of book-collecting and of angling. But there
are little tributary streets, with humbler stalls, shy pools, as it
were, where the humbler fisher of books may hope to raise an
Elzevir, or an old French play, a first edition of Shelley, or a
Restoration comedy. It is usually a case of hope unfulfilled; but
the merest nibble of a rare book, say Marston's poems in the
original edition, or Beddoes's "Love's Arrow Poisoned," or Bankes's
"Bay Horse in a Trance," or the "Mel Heliconicum" of Alexander Ross,
or "Les Oeuvres de Clement Marot, de Cahors, Vallet de Chambre du
Roy, A Paris, Ches Pierre Gaultier, 1551;" even a chance at
something of this sort will kindle the waning excitement, and add a
pleasure to a man's walk in muddy London. Then, suppose you
purchase for a couple of shillings the "Histoire des Amours de Henry
IV, et autres pieces curieuses, A Leyde, Chez Jean Sambyx (Elzevir),
1664," it is certainly not unpleasant, on consulting M. Fontaine's
catalogue, to find that he offers the same work at the ransom of 10
pounds. The beginner thinks himself in singular luck, even though
he has no idea of vending his collection, and he never reflects that
CONDITION--spotless white leaves and broad margins, make the market
value of a book.

Setting aside such bare considerations of profit, the sport given by
bookstalls is full of variety and charm. In London it may be