and bibliography seemed to remain in a state of hopeless torpor. Paterson was destined to revive it, and to open a new field for the exercise of bibliographical talent. Before his time, we had not a catalogue of a library which deserved the name in the course of his professional career, he executed many catalogues, some of which, in the opinion of good judges, have never been excelled. In 1757, an accident, of rather a curious description, led him to prepare a catalogue of the valuable MSS. of Sir Julius Cæsar, knt., judge of the admiralty to Queen Elizabeth; and chancellor, and under-treasurer of exchequer, to James the First, and Charles the First. These MSS. had fallen into the hands of persons ignorant of their worth, by whom they were about to be sold as waste paper, to a cheesemonger, for £10, when several of them happened to be shewn to Paterson. He instantly discovered their value, and digested a masterly catalogue of the whole, into several thousand singular and interesting articles, and the consequence was, that, at the sale by auction, they produced £356. The celebrated Lord Orford, and other noblemen, were among the purchasers.

Paterson's next catalogue of any importance, was his " Bibliotheca Anglica Curiosa, 1771." On the continent, bibliographers prepared their catalogues on the rule that human knowledge was divided into a certain number of branches, and that books ought to be classed in the same way; but, after adopting no fewer than sixteen divisions, they were obliged to place, under the head" Miscellanies," a larger collection of works than was comprehended in any other division. Paterson saw the absurdity of this rule, and avoided it. Hence, his catalogues always exhibited a circumstantial and judicious classification, and, in this respect, some of them are still regarded as models. This observation is more particularly applicable to the Bibliotheca Fleetwoodiana, Beauclerkiana, Croftsiana, Pinelliana, and to his catalogues of the Strange, Fagel, and Tyssen libraries. To these catalogues, subsequent bibliographers have been much indebted, but, with the exception of Mr. Dibdin, who has slightly noticed Paterson's merits, they have pilfered from him without acknowledgement.

Paterson's extensive knowledge of books enabled him to perceive, that, in many instances, they were rare or scarce only in a relative sense, and that many which were valuable, from their scarcity, in England, were rather common in other countries. He thought, therefore, that an importation and sale of such works might produce some profit to himself, and prove highly beneficial to the literature of his country, and he resolved to undertake a journey to the continent, and attempt the purchase of books of this description. He set out, in 1766 ; brought back to England an admirable collection of books, of

which he prepared an excellent catalogue, under the title of "Bibliotheca Universalis Selecta ;" and, in 1786, he sold the whole by auction, but, unfortunately, at a very considerable loss to himself. It is in the preface to this catalogue, that our worthy auctioneer speaks of his own labours, and of their unprofitable results, with a firmness which deserved a better fate." I have laboured," he says, "many years in this track (arranging and cataloguing libraries,) with little benefit to myself, beyond the satisfaction arising from the consideration of its utility; (myself having been always of the least consequence to myself,) but, if the diligent student has been served, and the curious enquirer gratified, the labour is amply rewarded." The " Cursory Remarks," of which we are to give an account, were the fruits of this journey; and, connected with the traveller's pursuits, an anecdote remains to be told, which, we doubt not, will prove interesting to our readers. His fellow traveller, who was a bookseller, in London, relied so much on his skill and integrity, that he lent him a thousand pounds, to be expended in additional purchases of books, trusting to the produce of the sale for repayment; but this event proving unfortunate, his generous friend never claimed the return of the loan. We regret, we cannot insert the name of this worthy bibliopole. It merits immortality.

Although Paterson's labours brought small accessions to his means of subsistence, they greatly increased his reputation among men of letters. The Earl of Shelburne, afterwards Marquess of Lansdowne, among others, heard of his fame, and requested him to arrange his valuable library; to compile a detailed catalogue of his books and MSS.; and, for these purposes, to accept of the office of his librarian, with a liberal salary.. The request was instantly complied with, and Paterson seemed, at last, to be secure of a comfortable income, and of an employment quite congenial to his wishes; but he had enjoyed the office only a few years, when an unhappy misunderstanding betwixt him and his noble patron, led to his dismissal. Perhaps, he gave way too much to his passion for reading, and his employer might thus find the work assigned him proceeding too slowly for his purposes; but, whatever was the cause of Paterson's dismissal, it reduced him once more to needy circum. stances, and left him no other resource, than that of cataloguing, and selling the libraries of others; a pursuit which, in his hands, and with his habits, and the infirmities of increasing years, was productive of little profit.

In the midst of all his employments, he found time to write various works. In addition to the "Cursory Remarks," we may mention "Joineriana," 2 vols. 12mo. 1772;" The Templar," a periodical paper, 1773 ; and “ Speculations on Law and Lawyers,"

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1778. It is understood, that this last work was occasioned by the hardships he suffered from his guardian's unprincipled conduct, and from his obtaining little or no redress in a suit at law; and we may rest assured, that the bitterness of his reproaches would not be mitigated by the additional distresses which his imprudent speculations, and the wants of a numerous family, could not fail to bring upon him. But it was chiefly for his unrivalled talent in compiling catalogues, that Paterson was celebrated; and our readers may have some notion of the value of his labours in this department, when we inform them, that these labours tended greatly to promote the advancement of British bibliography; and that, even at this day, when we can boast of some bright names in this much-loved and muchstudied science, the name of Paterson occupies a conspicuous place among those of its most successful cultivators.

Like many of the events of his life, the cause of Paterson's death was of a wayward kind. He stumbled in the dark, over a small dog-kennel, left by mistake at the bottom of a stair-case, and wounded his leg. The wound soon mortified, and on the 29th November, 1802, Paterson breathed his last.

Turn we now to the three tiny volumes of our bibliopolist; not very appropriately, perhaps, called a book of travels, but, assuredly, not inaptly described (see p. 150,) as "a book of wanderings, rather intersected with whimsical digressions, and seasonable reflections." Indeed, as travels, we are in conscience bound to say, that we cannot reckon them very praiseworthy; they do not, in fact, contain above a half dozen descriptions. Nor, as a series of anecdotes, will they stand the test; the number of these not being great, and honest Paterson not being the very best narrator of a story, we have met with. Again, as containing reflections on life and manners, we are constrained to admit, that, in various places, we found these jejune and common-place; in others, sophistical; in some, extravagant. But these are all the deductions we feel ourselves compelled to make from our critical approbation of the volumes. Accordingly, we are now entitled to reverse the picture, and to state, that the few descriptions to be found in the work, are clearly and neatly given; that the anecdotes, interspersed throughout, are often entertaining, and told in a lively manner; and that the reflections of the author are always liberal, sometimes striking, and not unfrequently new. Perhaps, there is an affectation of excursiveness, which savours somewhat of Shandean imitation; but the reader is good-naturedly warned at the outset, that the author intends "to proceed in his own way," vol. i. p. 33. Perhaps, too, he is apt to think and talk of himself, and of his own feelings, with greater frequency and fondness than might be wished; but, after perusing the following candid apology, what

reader would be cruel enough to decry the egotism of worthy Sam. 66 My greatest misfortune is this cursed egotism, which I find myself insensibly running into! I said, I did, and I went-how shall I get rid of it? for the soul of me, I can't tell! it hurts myself-how then must it affect my readers? yet you'll all allow, 'tis very difficult for a man to tell a story about himself, and yet to leave himself out of the question." Ibid. p. 35. A fastidious critic might censure the style as sententious, flippant, abrupt; we, on the contrary, are pleased with it, as quite in keeping with the light-hearted reflections, the short disjointed sketches, and fanciful tripping anecdotes, which are scattered through the volumes. In short, as our readers may perceive, Paterson is a favourite with us; and though we do not pretend to overlook his faults, or to regard him as a tourist of the most enlarged mind, yet we do think him, to the extent of his abilities, indifferent honest," and, what is almost as good, "a whimsical traveller, who set out with a disposition of being pleased." 'Tis true, he has not the humour and pathos of Sterne, or the keenness of observation of Smollet, or of Moore, but he is not devoid of a sprinkling of all these qualifications; and, besides, he has a larger stock of candour and good nature, than distinguished all the celebrated writers whom we have just named.

But our readers may wish, by this time, to judge for themselves, and we willingly proceed to our extracts. Our first shall be cap. ix., vol. i. which appears to us, to be a good specimen of the author's peculiar manner both of thinking and writing. It follows his account of a fine old church, in the town of Ghistel, in Flanders, dedicated to St. Godeliva.

'By Saint Godeliva !—who shall henceforth be the divinity that I will deprecate, as often as I undertake the cause of injured innocence, and defenceless beauty.

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'By Saint Godeliva! said I, 'tis monstrous, cruel, unnatural!nor will I admit of any argument in defence of so unfeeling, so inhuman a practice !'

"This was spoken to that modest and well-deserving gentleman, Doctor M'V. as we were coming out of the convent of the devout sisters of our lady of the conception.

"Among other debts of obligation which I owe to the good doctor, I shall not readily forget his kindness, in introducing me to the company of some of the nuns of that holy sisterhood; and in particular to my fair country woman, sister Grace Fox, who, though born and bred a protestant of the church of England, had been soothed, or tempted, or some how or other constrained to take the habit of that order.

"Indeed, 'tis a most bewitching habit-enough to make any girl enamoured with a cloister, who was but sensible of her own charms, (as most are, who have any; and many fancy, who have none) and

conceited how well she would become it. "Tis of fine white woollen cloth, spotless as the lambkin's fleece, from whence it is derived, and symbolical of its native purity-the thin, transparent, black veil adown the face, contrasts the red and white-which, from its gentle waving, still opens new beauties, still conceals what may be better imagined— the most loosely-attired coquet cannot display the thousandth part of them.

"But turn thine eyes from it, thou fair observer!-too easily enticed by false appearance, susceptible alike of good and evil-for, take my word, there's magic in the web of it! The moment thou puttest it on, thy beauty's storehouse, the pride of heaven, thyself, and all mankind, will become a piteous charnel!-thy fair opening blossoms will wither, thy roses fade, thy lilies shrink from their whiteness !-thy silken locks for ever be concealed-thy crystal orbs cease to emit their wonted fires !-thy fragrant breath, which late out-vied the morning's freshness, be thenceforth spent in broken and causeless sighs!— thine eyes will be directed to turn inwards, there to behold the spotless chamber of thy soul!-wretched conceit !-alas! that thou mightest well do, hadst thou no eyes at all!-who then shall mark thy witching airs, thy easy steps, thy graceful motions?—None but divinities shall hear thy oft melting speech-none but angels catch the enrapturing music of thy voice!

What a pity it is, to see so many delicate young creatures shut up from society!-the very ends of their being blasted!-created to charm, to chear, to be admired-to love, and to be loved-to taste the riches of increase-to rejoice in their maker's bounty, not limited to them alone, but extended to their numerous offspring!

"What a perversion of scripture is here?-Virgins and lamps!vessels of honour, and leafy trees!-which are the foolish virgins? those who attended the bridegroom's coming, or those who went not till it was too late?-which are the most honourable, the full or the empty vessels !-which the goodliest tree, the leafy or the fruitful?

"Here, buried alive, they grow and wither in obscurity-they may not be touched, scarce looked upon, their fragrancy never once to be tasted!—their sweet breath serving only to bedew and perfume the hallowed walls, rendered such by immuring them.

And so the conversion of my pretty countrywoman, it seems, was, in a great measure, owing to the present pious bishop of Bruges., "His lordship had learnt, that her inclination was wavering, her faith unsteady, her means of support slender-here a fine opportunity presented itself of taking her soul into keeping, of fixing her faith, and, at the same time, of securing her body's maintenance—he paid down the price of her admission among the Conceptionists.

"To establish the wavering mind-to receive the stranger-to patronize the wretched, are certainly acts of great humanity, and becoming a bishop as much as any man whatsoever.-His lordship, no doubt, was happy in thinking that he had gained a soul-but I dare say he never once reflected, how many good subjects the king, my master, may have lost through his zeal, and heaven, perhaps, as many saints.

"Your pardon, my dear doctor, 'tis your want of consideration,