But underneath all particular criticism of
this or that method of classification will be
found to lie a subtler question -- whether the
arrangement of a library ought not in some
degree to correspond with and represent the
mind of the man who forms it. For my own
part, I plead guilty, within certain limits, of
favoritism in classification. I am sensible
that sympathy and its reverse have something
to do with determining in what company a
book shall stand. And further, does there
not enter into the matter a principle of
humanity to the authors themselves? Ought
we not to place them, so far as may be, in
the neighborhood which they would like?
Their living manhoods are printed in their
works. Every reality, every tendency, endures.
Eadem sequitur tellure sepultos.

I fear that arrangement, to be good, must
be troublesome. Subjects are traversed by
promiscuous assemblages of 'works;' both by
sizes; and all by languages. On the whole
I conclude as follows. The mechanical
perfection of a library requires an alphabetical
catalogue of the whole. But under the shadow
of this catalogue let there be as many living
integers as possible, for every well-chosen
subdivision is a living integer and makes the