There was one dapper little gentleman in bright-colored clothes,with a chirping, gossiping expression of countenance, who had allthe appearance of an author on good terms with his bookseller. Afterconsidering him attentively, I recognized in him a diligentgetter-up of miscellaneous works, which bustled off well with thetrade. I was curious to see how he manufactured his wares. He mademore stir and show of business than any of the others; dipping intovarious books, fluttering over the leaves of manuscripts, taking amorsel out of one, a morsel out of another, "line upon line, preceptupon precept, here a little and there a little." The contents of hisbook seemed to be as heterogeneous as those of the witches' caldron inMacbeth. It was here a finger and there a thumb, toe of frog andblind-worm's sting, with his own gossip poured in like "baboon'sblood," to make the medley "slab and good."After all, thought I, may not this pilfering disposition beimplanted in authors for wise purposes; may it not be the way in whichProvidence has taken care that the seeds of knowledge and wisdom shallbe preserved from age to age, in spite of the inevitable decay ofthe works in which they were first produced? We see that nature haswisely, though whimsically, provided for the conveyance of seedsfrom clime to clime, in the maws of certain birds; so that animals,which, in themselves, are little better than carrion, and apparentlythe lawless plunderers of the orchard and the cornfield, are, in fact,nature's carriers to disperse and perpetuate her blessings. In likemanner, the beauties and fine thoughts of ancient and obsolete authorsare caught up by these flights of predatory writers, and cast forthagain to flourish and bear fruit in a remote and distant tract oftime. Many of their works, also, undergo a kind of metempsychosis, andspring up under new forms. What was formerly a ponderous historyrevives in the shape of a romance- an old legend changes into a modernplay- and a sober philosophical treatise furnishes the body for awhole series of bouncing and sparkling essays. Thus it is in theclearing of our American woodlands; where we burn down a forest ofstately pines, a progeny of dwarf oaks start up in their place: and wenever see the prostrate trunk of a tree mouldering into soil, but itgives birth to a whole tribe of fungi.
Let us not, then, lament over the decay and oblivion into whichancient writers descend; they do but submit to the great law ofnature, which declares that all sublunary shapes of matter shall belimited in their duration, but which decrees, also, that theirelements shall never perish. Generation after generation, both inanimal and vegetable life, passes away, but the vital principle istransmitted to posterity, and the species continue to flourish.
Thus, also, do authors beget authors, and having produced a numerousprogeny, in a good old age they sleep with their fathers, that is tosay, with the authors who preceded them- and from whom they hadstolen.
Whilst I was indulging in these rambling fancies, I had leaned myhead against a pile of reverend folios. Whether it was owing to thesoporific emanations from these works; or to the profound quiet of theroom; or to the lassitude arising from much wandering; or to anunlucky habit of napping at improper times and places, with which I amgrievously afflicted, so it was, that I fell into a doze. Still,however, my imagination continued busy, and indeed the same sceneremained before my mind's eye, only a little changed in some of thedetails. I dreamt that the chamber was still decorated with theportraits of ancient authors, but that the number was increased. Thelong tables had disappeared, and, in place of the sage magi, Ibeheld a ragged, threadbare throng, such as may be seen plying aboutthe great repository of cast-off clothes, Monmouth-street. Wheneverthey seized upon a book, by one of those incongruities common todreams, methought it turned into a garment of foreign or antiquefashion, with which they proceeded to equip themselves. I noticed,however, that no one pretended to clothe himself from any particularsuit, but took a sleeve from one, a cape from another, a skirt froma third, thus decking himself out piecemeal, while some of hisoriginal rags would peep out from among his borrowed finery.
