this article. If so, let me congratulate him upon possessing such rare
and interesting memorials of the famous and immortal biographer of
Doctor Daniel Dove of Doncaster.

And sure I am that no gentle reader can contemplate the fate of Charles
Lamb's library without becoming a prey to

"Mild-eyed melancholy."

Elia's books,--his "midnight darlings," his "folios," his "huge
Switzer-like tomes of choice and massy divinity," his "kind-hearted
play-books," his book of "Songs and Posies," his rare old treatises, and
quaint and curious tractates,--the rich gleanings from the old London
book-stalls by one who knew a good book, as Falstaff knew the Prince, by
instinct,--books that had been the solace and delight of his life, the
inspirers and prompters of his best and noblest thoughts, the food of
his mind, and the nourishers of his fancies, ideas, and feelings,--these
books, with the exception of those retained by some of Elia's personal
friends, were, after Mary Lamb's death, purchased by an enterprising
New-York bookseller, and shipped to America, where Lamb has ever had
more readers and truer appreciators than in England. The arrival in New
York of his "shivering folios" created quite a sensation among the
Cisatlantic admirers of "the gentle Elia." The lovers of rare old books
and the lovers of Charles Lamb jostled each other in the way to Bartlett
and Welford's shop, where the treasures (having escaped the perils of
the sea) were safely housed, and where a crowd of _literati_ was
constantly engaged in examining them.

The sale was attended by a goodly company of book-collectors and
book-readers. All the works brought fair prices, and were purchased by