Then there is the eternal question of price. One point should be always before the collector’s mind: In the event of my being compelled to realise my collection, what price may I hope to get for it? To the collector the buying price and the selling price are intimately connected. There is so much capital to be locked up, so much time employed, so much skill displayed, and there should be a fair recompense for all three. And, further, there is the ever-present risk that fashion may change, and articles once greedily sought after may become unsaleable because they are “out of fashion.” Of course, one obvious way of purchasing to advantage is when others have to sell at a disadvantage; when collections come into the market because of the death or misfortune of their owner. At such sales I have known many bargains picked up, although it is again necessary to emphasise the need for wariness. Bogus sales are not unknown, and it is a common practice for genuine sales to be “salted,” and often pretty liberally, by the introduction of inferior imitations, in the hope that, among much that is undoubtedly genuine, they may escape detection. I may, perhaps, be permitted to say a word as to the prices which should be paid in the ordinary way at such sales. An old Waterford cut-glass jug is, provided its cutting is perfect, certainly worth a five-pound note. A very common dodge is to sell an old Waterford jug with a cracked handle, the crack being where it is least likely to show, _i.e._ at the top or bottom of the handle close to where it joins the body. For an ordinary spiral wine glass 7s. 6d. to 10s. is a fair price, but glasses with baluster stems are easily worth a guinea. Most expensive of all are the real “Fiat” glasses: £9, £10, £15, and even more may be paid for one. I saw one sold a few months ago for the record price of nineteen guineas.