In the next place, the treasures of the _Collector_, when once he has submitted to the pleasing toil of procuring them, are his own;--his own, I mean, in the single sense in which he is desirous so to call them; for he leaves them in the safe custody of his shelves, until the arrival of that proud moment, when he shall be dared by an envious rival, to prove that the title-page of some forgotten (and thence remembered) volume, is perfect--or properly imperfect; or that it enjoys the reputation of having been printed, long before the Art had approached towards any tolerable degree of improvement; or, that it possesses some one, or more, of those curious advantages, upon which a fitter occasion for expatiating will present itself by and by:--and now, how stands the point of _possession_, with the _Student_?--unprosperously indeed!--for besides that, as already observed, he can never possibly possess, in _his_ sense of that expression, more than a wretched modicum of his coveted treasures, he is doomed to a very precarious property even in those which he may have actually hoarded; inasmuch as they are entrusted to the care of that most treacherous of all librarians, _Memory_,--which, at all times, and of necessity, treats the Student's collections, as the professed Collector, occasionally, and by choice only, is tempted to treat _his_,--by casting out a great part of them for want of room.... 'Let us now be told no more,' of the superiority of the _Student_ over the _Collector_.--J. BERESFORD. _Bibliosophia._ GOLDEN VOLUMES! RICHEST TREASURES! Golden volumes! richest treasures! Objects of delicious pleasures! You my eyes rejoicing please, You my hands in rapture seize! Brilliant wits and moving sages, Lights who beamed through many ages, Left to your conscious leaves their story, And dared to trust you with their glory; And now their hope of fame achieved, Dear volumes!--you have not deceived!