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But best beloved of books； I ween； Are those which one perceives Are hallowed by ashes dropped between The yellow； well…thumbed leaves。
For it's here a laugh and it's there a tear； Till the treasured book is read； And the ashes betwixt the pages here Tell us of one long dead。
But the gracious presence reappears As we read the book again； And the fragrance of precious； distant years Filleth the hearts of men
Come； pluck with me in my garden nooks The posies that bloom for all； Oh； sweet is the smell of my old； old books In their places against the wall！
Better than flowers are they； these books of mine！ For what are the seasons to them？ Neither can the drought of summer nor the asperity of winter wither or change them。 At all times and under all circumstances they are the sameradiant； fragrant； hopeful； helpful！ There is no charm which they do not possess； no beauty that is not theirs。
What wonder is it that from time immemorial humanity has craved the boon of carrying to the grave some book particularly beloved in life？ Even Numa Pompilius provided that his books should share his tomb with him。 Twenty…four of these precious volumes were consigned with him to the grave。 When Gabriel Rossetti's wife died； the poet cast into her open grave the unfinished volume of his poems； that being the last and most precious tribute he could pay to her cherished memory。
History records instance after instance of the consolation dying men have received from the perusal of books； and many a one has made his end holding in his hands a particularly beloved volume。 The reverence which even unlearned men have for books appeals in these splendid libraries which are erected now and again with funds provided by the wills of the illiterate。 How dreadful must be the last moments of that person who has steadfastly refused to share the companionship and acknowledge the saving grace of books！
Such； indeed； is my regard for these friendships that it is with misery that I contemplate the probability of separation from them by and by。 I have given my friends to understand that when I am done with earth certain of my books shall be buried with me。 The list of these books will be found in the left…hand upper drawer of the old mahogany secretary in the front spare room。
When I am done； I'd have no son Pounce on these treasures like a vulture； Nay； give them half My epitaph And let them share in my sepulture。
Then when the crack Of doom rolls back The marble and the earth that hide me； I'll smuggle home Each precious tome Without a fear a wife shall chide me。
The dread of being separated by death from the objects of one's love has pursued humanity from the beginning。 The Hindoos used to have a selfish fashion of requiring their widows to be entombed alive with their corpses。 The North American Indian insists that his horse； his bow and arrows； his spear； and his other cherished trinkets shall share his grave with him。
My sister； Miss Susan； has provided that after her demise a number of her most prized curios shall be buried with her。 The list； as I recall it； includes a mahogany four…post bedstead； an Empire dresser； a brass warming…pan； a pair of brass andirons； a Louis Quinze table； a Mayflower teapot； a Tomb of Washington platter； a pewter tankard； a pair of her grandmother's candlesticks； a Paul Revere lantern； a tall Dutch clock； a complete suit of armor purchased in Rome； and a collection of Japanese bric…a…brac presented to Miss Susan by a returned missionary。
I do not see what Miss Susan can possibly do with all this trumpery in the hereafter； but； if I survive her； I shall certainly insist upon a compliance with her wishes； even though it involve the erection of a tumulus as prodigious as the pyramid of Cheops。
XIV
ELZEVIRS AND DIVERS OTHER MATTERS
Boswell's ‘‘Life of Johnson'' and Lockhart's ‘‘Life of Scott'' are accepted as the models of biography。 The third remarkable performance in this line is Mrs。 Gordon's memoir of her father； John Wilson； a volume so charmingly and tenderly written as to be of interest to those even who know and care little about that era in the history of English literature in which ‘‘crusty Christopher'' and his associates in the making of ‘‘Blackwood's'' figured。
It is a significant fact； I think； that the three greatest biographers the world has known should have been Scotch； it has long been the fashion to laugh and to sneer at what is called Scotch dulness； yet what prodigies has not Scotch genius performed in every department of literature； and would not our literature be poor indeed to…day but for the contributions which have been made to it by the very people whom we affect to deride？
John Wilson was one of the most interesting figures of a time when learning was at a premium； he was a big man amongst big men； and even in this irreverential time genius uncovers at the mention of his name。 His versatility was astounding； with equal facility and felicity he could conduct a literary symposium and a cock…fight； a theological discussion and an angling expedition； a historical or a political inquiry and a fisticuffs。
Nature had provided him with a mighty brain in a powerful body； he had a physique equal to the performance of what suggestion soever his splendid intellectuals made。 To him the incredible feat of walking seventy miles within the compass of a day was mere child's play； then； when the printer became clamorous； he would immure himself in his wonderful den and reel off copy until that printer cried ‘‘Hold； enough！'' It was no unusual thing for him to write for thirteen hours at a stretch； when he worked he worked； and when he played he played that is perhaps the reason why he was never a dull boy。
Wilson seems to have been a procrastinator。 He would put off his task to the very last moment； this is a practice that is common with literary menin fact； it was encouraged by those who were regarded as authorities in such matters anciently。 Ringelbergius gave this advice to an author under his tuition：
‘‘Tell the printers；'' said he； ‘‘to make preparations for a work you intend writing； and never alarm yourself about it because it is not even begun； for； after having announced it you may without difficulty trace out in your own head the whole plan of your work and its divisions； after which compose the arguments of the chapters； and I can assure you that in this manner you may furnish the printers daily with more copy than they want。 But； remember； when you have once begun there must be no flagging till the work is finished。''
The loyalty of human admiration was never better illustrated than in Shelton Mackenzie's devotion to Wilson's genius。 To Mackenzie we are indebted for a compilation of the ‘‘Noctes Ambrosianae；'' edited with such discrimination； such ability； such learning； and such enthusiasm that； it seems to me； the work must endure as a monument not only to Wilson's but also to Mackenzie's genius。
I have noticed one peculiarity that distinguishes many admi