The Camden journal. [volume] (Camden, S.C.) 1866-1891, 1889-02-21
A BIBLIOMANIACs STORY
BY NATHAN M.sLEyY.

have been ali my life lover of
books. For years my father kept khe
only book store in the thriving town of
D-,,and there my love for first editions,
black-letter copies, proofs before letter,
and rare volumes was fostered. Before
I arrived at that interesting period Of
existence, known as "twenty- -one, =
bibliomania had become such an abiding
passion with me that forgot that I was
intended for the law. I preferred Boffin
to Blackstone, tail-pieces to tenures,
and japan paper to legal.cap:"
My father was not a hard-hearted man,
but he was stern when thwarted, and
when made known to him my aversion
to the law, he stormed and threatened.
AS a consequence, left D. with my
parents best wishes and few gold
pieces which I had long preserved for o
copy of Hogarth's Hudibras, of which
had read, there were but twelve copies
printed. With what pang I left the
cherished volumes on thy fathers shelves
the folio Shakespeare, the we'll
thumbed Odyssey, the illuminated Bible,
and the rest! With what pang, too,
o Mary, I left thee at my mothers gate.
with the big promises, of fame and for
tune would soon place at thy feet! To
this day can see the tears swimming in
thine eyes and teel the tremor in thine
hands!
I arrived in the broad city of B,
and after much irritating search, en-
gagged lodgings in small street far from
the busy hum of that new Babylon.
paced the avenues, peered into the shops,
read the advertisements, and viewed
with alarm the rapid disintegration of
NV gold pieces into silver, from silver
into copper, from copper into air. My
only consolation in these trying times
was the rare old Dibdin l possessed. I
Rugged it all the more now that my
hopes of Hudibras had fed. With what
torture I recalled the words, "twelve
copies, large paper, 1744, . vols, with
DR.. Gray's Annotations, and cuts by
Hogarth." So impotent is all human
desire, so vain all human wish!
In accord with that last resort of all
desperate men, I set up as an author. I
forgot my contempt for the Theol aids
and the Dennises, and the Minerva Press,
and became hack. Eheu, man must
live; wrote poems. novels, sermons
political pamphlets and essays teeming
with book lore. And thus with my
Dibdin and my pipe, cheap affair,
which, considering my loneliness, / ad-
mitted to share of my affections, the
days passed on.
My chief amusement in those days was
to wander among the many book shops
and book stalls of the city. If could
hot call them mine, 1 could at least
feast my hungry eyes upon the cheerful
looking volumes, as they held neigh
borly intercourse upon the shelves Now
and then rare tolio, a scarce edition,
or an old print, would cause me to start
with the ardor of possession, and the
bookseller generally bent with age and
with the appearance of a scholar) would
eye me with suspicion. But after many
visits (my poverty never allowed me to
purchase), the proprietors learned to
look upon me as harmless bbliomaniac
ofteL in the throes of ecstasy over some
treasure, I would pour out my learning
in a riotous wealth of language, causing
their wonder and their admiration. 1t
was thus obtained the privileges of the
many shops in B.. q
1t was while making my roxpds o.
morning, that I picked up Fl ',
ume which appeared fam
shape, its CO