We may, appropriately enough, conclude this brief but sufficiently lengthy notice of the knock-out system with an anecdote which shows that, in this case, a 'knock-out' would have been justifiable. At a certain famous book-sale a few years ago, a volume of no particular interest, except that it contained the autograph of the Earl of Derwentwater, was possibly worth L5. But the bidding was brisk, two of the dealers being evidently bent on having the prize. To the astonishment of everybody, the price went up to about 120 guineas, when one of the dealers gave in. Taking the other man aside, he said, 'Who have you been bidding for?' 'Mr. So-and-So.' 'So have I.' Another illustration of the unexpected and incomprehensibly sudden rise in the auction value of books is explained in the following extract of a letter from Horace Walpole: 'I cannot conclude my letter without telling you what an escape I had, at the sale of Dr. Mead's library, which goes extremely dear. In the catalogue I saw Winstanley's "Views of Audley End," which I concluded was a thin dirty folio, worth about fifteen shillings. As I thought it might be scarce, it might run to two or three guineas; however, I bid Graham _certainly_ buy it for me. He came the next morning in a great fright, said he did not know whether he had done right or very wrong; that he had gone as far as _nine and forty guineas_. I started in such a fright! Another bookseller had, luckily, as unlimited a commission, and bid fifty. I shall never give an unbounded commission again.' [Illustration] [Illustration] SOME HUMOURS OF BOOK-CATALOGUES. AN interesting and curious pendant to Mr. H. B. Wheatley's 'Literary Blunders' might be made up of the errors which have occurred from time to time in booksellers' catalogues. These errors are sometimes grotesquely amusing, and are perhaps as often attributable to the ingenuity of the printer as to the ignorance of the cataloguer. Booksellers usually content themselves with seeing one proof of their catalogues, and as the variety of books dealt with is so great, it would need at least half a dozen careful revisions to secure anything like correctness. As a general rule, the catalogues of London booksellers are exceptionally free of blunders, provincial compilers (notably one or two in Birmingham) being far behind their Metropolitan rivals. The example of 'Mill, John S., On Liberty, " " On the Floss,' is almost too well known to again bear repeating; the same may be said of the instance in which Ruskin's 'Notes on the Construction of Sheepfolds' was catalogued as a book for farmers, and of that in which Swinburne's 'Under the Microscope' was classed among optical instruments. The cross-reference of 'God: _see_ Fiske, J.,' is a gem of absent-mindedness. Here are four more gems which appeared in the catalogue of a public library: