With the dry manner above described, there was united an extraordinary simplicity, which, where this individual’s better qualities were not very well known, frequently gave offence. Our friend had never any intercourse with him on matters of business but once. In conjunction with a friend, whose works are now under more solemn and awful criticism elsewhere, he was prevailed upon to print a book on speculation, presuming, which indeed turned out to be the fact, that the booksellers would subscribe for the impression. The dry bookseller was, among others, applied to, but he returned the letter of application to the writer, simply writing under it, A. B. will not subscribe. Upon another occasion an author who lived at a distance from the metropolis, at that period a great patriot, and flaming politician, had written a book of biography, the sale of which was to pour unheard-of riches into his bosom; guineas, for it was then the time of guineas, glittered in brilliant heaps before his warmed imagination. He employed a common friend to entreat the interposition of the Sexagenarian with some publisher, as being better acquainted with the nature of such negociations. The office was readily accepted, and this same Queer gentleman was the person fixed upon to become the purchaser of the copy-right of this inestimable treasure. A meeting was appointed, the circumstances explained, the copy produced, was cast off, and agreed to be comprised in an octavo volume. Then succeeded the anxious moment of expectation of the reply to be given to, “How much will you advance for the copy-right?” The author had doubtless heard of the large sums given per volume to Gibbon, Robertson, Blair, Beattie, and other writers of that calibre; and though perhaps neither his pride nor his ambition carried his expectations quite so far as to suppose that he should be placed on a parallel with these illustrious names, yet his disappointment (and disappointment is always in proportion to the hopes indulged) cannot easily be described, when, in a dry, grave, and inflexible, tone, he heard the words “Twenty pounds and six copies.” Thus was the flattering hope of authorship nipped in the bud; the labour of many successive months, in a moment rendered unavailing, and the fond dreams of fame and emolument made to vanish as by the wand of a sorcerer. There are sundry other booksellers upon our list; for example, the Splendid Bookseller, the Cunning Bookseller, the Black Letter Bookseller, the Comical Bookseller, the Dirty Bookseller, the Fine Bookseller, the Unfortunate Bookseller, &c. &c. The Splendid Bookseller, by patient and persevering frugality, with high connections, which seemed entailed upon his house, was enabled to retire to tranquillity and independence, long before the decline of life, or infirmities of age, rendered it necessary to do so. He was highly respectable, but could drive a hard bargain with a poor author, as well as any of his fraternity.