M. Aglaüs Bouvenne represents a dog balancing the monogram of Alexis Martin (page 158), whilst Mons. L. Delatre confides a book, in sumptuous binding, to the mouth of another, with the motto, “Honneur a qui rapporte.” A pretty idea, but surely not a very practical one (see page 240). It is his whim! _C’est sa toquade_, as M. Cousin remarks on his plate (see page 231). [Illustration: BOOK-PLATE OF CHARLES MONSELET.] In their treatment of his dread Satanic Majesty the French display delightful grace and delicacy. Indeed, _Le Diable Boiteux_ of Le Sage is very much of a gentleman; Mephistopheles in Gounod’s opera is a far more interesting personality than his pupil Faust; whilst in “Orphée aux Enfers” Offenbach certainly contrived to enlist our sympathies on behalf of Pluto. Many a French shop is dedicated to the Evil One, but in every case the inscription is respectful, as, for instance, _Au Bon Diable_. It is almost a term of endearment, the expression “un mauvais petit Diable,” whilst no proper English word can convey the sense of rollicking fun contained in _Diablerie_. [Illustration: BOOK-PLATE OF MONS. WOLF.] As in literature, so in art, the Devil of the French, may be grotesque, bizarre, comic, terrible, yet in all he is a superior being, in short a Gentleman in Black, never the hideous, repulsive individual we are accustomed to see portrayed (with two horns and a tail) in English comic art. Nothing could more eloquently convey the French conception of the character than Sir Henry Irving’s inimitable representation of Mephistopheles at the Lyceum a short time since. Does not this book-plate recall his appearance in the part? [Illustration: BOOK-PLATE OF MONS. A. CLERICEAU.] [Illustration: BOOK-PLATE OF MONS. B. COUSIN.] [Illustration] CHAPTER XIV. PHRASES OF POSSESSION. “Gentilz Ouvriers, qui d’un soing curieux Allez cherchant es plus vieilles reliques Venez icy, et aux proffitz publiques Imitez en les plus laborieux ...” J. BULLANT. (From the ex-libris of H. Destailleur.) Herein an attempt has been made to gather in such French phrases of book possession, and inscriptions on book-plates, as may be deemed interesting, quaint, or humorous, avoiding in this instance all mottoes or war cries which are obviously of heraldic origin. Little Victor Dupuis is very like Master Tommy Smith in the habit he has of scribbling nonsense verses in his school books; one very popular quatrain in the good old days of the French monarchy was: “Ce livre est à moi Comme Paris est au roi. Qui veut savoir mon nom Regarde dans ce rond.” Or, he would threaten borrowers with dire penalties: “Ne me prends pas Ou on te pendras.” Becoming more ambitious, he would launch out into a Macaronic verse: “Aspice Pierrot pendu Quia ce livre n’a pas rendu. Si librum reddidisset Pierrot pendu non fuisset.” Or, another way, as the cookery books say: