they had only two pseudonyms used on the titles of books published
by and for themselves. These disguises are "Jean Sambix" for Jean
and Daniel Elzevir, at Leyden, and for the Elzevirs of Amsterdam,
"Jacques le Jeune." The last of the great representatives of the
house, Daniel, died at Amsterdam, 1680. Abraham, an unworthy scion,
struggled on at Leyden till 1712. The family still prospers, but no
longer prints, in Holland. It is common to add duodecimos of
Foppens, Wolfgang, and other printers, to the collections of the
Elzevirs. The books of Wolfgang have the sign of the fox robbing a
wild bee's nest, with the motto Quaerendo.

Curious and singular books are the next in our classification. The
category is too large. The books that be "curious" (not in the
booksellers' sense of "prurient" and "disgusting,") are innumerable.
All suppressed and condemned books, from "Les Fleurs du Mal" to
Vanini's "Amphitheatrum," or the English translation of Bruno's
"Spaccia della Bestia Trionfante," are more or less rare, and more
or less curious. Wild books, like William Postel's "Three
Marvellous Triumphs of Women," are "curious." Freakish books, like
macaronic poetry, written in a medley of languages, are curious.
Books from private presses are singular. The old English poets and
satirists turned out many a book curious to the last degree, and
priced at a fantastic value. Such are "Jordan's Jewels of
Ingenuity," "Micro-cynicon, six Snarling Satyres" (1599), and the
"Treatize made of a Galaunt," printed by Wynkyn de Worde, and found
pasted into the fly-leaf, on the oak-board binding of an imperfect
volume of Pynson's "Statutes." All our early English poems and
miscellanies are curious; and, as relics of delightful singers, are
most charming possessions. Such are the "Songes and Sonnettes of
Surrey" (1557), the "Paradyce of daynty Deuices" (1576), the "Small