Recollections of Mr. James Lenox, of Neto York, and the
Formation of his Library. By Henry Stevens, of Vermont. (Stevens.)—There are few kinds of sport more alluring, and perhaps we may add, more expensive, than that of the book-hunter. It is well known he does not search for scarce books in order to read them, but because they are scarce ; and to cat open a precious volume in order to make use of it, would be in his eyes little less than sacrilege. Mr. Lenox, who was born in New York, and bequeathed his vast library to that city, was one of the millionaires of a country where the honour is given to wealth that we accord to birth. He inherited a vast fortune, and made another ; seems to have been kindly and generous, and, in the language of the Recollections, paid his taxes liberally," though what that means it is difficult to say. For thirty-five years he devoted himself to book-collecting, with Mr. Stevens as his agent. The books seem to have been a constant labour and source of anxiety, and they were "piled away or corded up like wood," filling his numerous large rooms from the ceiling to the floor, and so stacked that it was almost impossible to find any that might be wanted. It was on this account, probably, that when the historian Prescott asked to see his library, the request was refused. The Lenox library is not, to quote Mr. Stevens's words, an " all-round " public library, hat a " patchy " one. It contains, for instance, all the editions and translations of" The Pilgrim's Progress," nearly all the known editions of Milton, as well as many of the separate pieces, so that in this respect his collection surpasses that of the British Museum and Bodleian put together. Another taste he gratified was for old Bibles, and many a tale Mr. Stevens has to tell of his success in this department. Then he took to books relating to America. For years he had wished to get a perfect copy of "The Bay Psalm-Book," the first book printed in that country. Mr. Stevens knew only of one copy, and that was in the Bodleian. One day, at a public sale in London, he came upon a number of black-letter Psalm-books, among which was the invaluable Psalm.book he wanted. The lot was knocked down to him for nineteen shillings, and as he instantly seized the volume, he was asked what rarity he had got. "` Oh nothing,' said I, 'but the first English book printed in America ;' " and he added, "I am now fully rewarded for my long and silent hunt of seven years." Later on, Mr. Stevens bought a whole library for $10,000, chiefly to obtain a second copy of this Psalm-book. It was offered to the British Museum for £150, and .declined, and was afterwards bought in America for $1,200. The pleasantly written little volume is full of anecdotes like this, of no attraction, perhaps, for the general reader, but keenly interesting to the book-hunter. Mr. Stevens, who died recently, was a master of bis oraft, and it is a pity that he did not live to see the story of his 'exploits in print.
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