el Drouot.
Let the enthusiastin conclusionthrow a handful of lilies on the grave
of the martyr of the love of books--the poet Albert Glatigny. Poor
Glatigny was the son of a garde champetre; his education was accidental
and his poetic taste and skill extraordinarily fine and delicate. In his life
of starvation (he had often to sleep in omnibuses and railway stations)he
frequently spent the price of a dinner on a new book. He lived to read
BOOKS AND BOOKMEN
66
and to dreamand if he bought books he had not the wherewithal to live.
Stillhe bought them--and he died
ugg boots in clearance! His own poems were beautifully
printed by Lemerreand it may be a joy to him (si mentem mortalia
tangunt) that they are now so highly valued that the price of a copy would
have kept the author alive and happy for a month.
BOOKS AND BOOKMEN
67
OLD FRENCH TITLE-PAGES
Nothing can be plaineras a rulethan a modern English title-page. Its
only beauty (if beauty it possesses) consists in the arrangement and
'massing' of lines of type in various sizes. We have returned almost to
the primitive simplicity of the oldest printed bookswhich had no title-
pagesproperly speakingat allor merely gavewith extreme brevitythe
name of the workwithout printer'yilai:
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