There are some few noble volumes, from the press of Sweynheym and Pannartz, in this collection; and the finest copy of the FIRST LUCIAN in Greek, which perhaps any where exists.[136] It was obtained at a recent sale, (where it was coated in a lapping-over vellum surtout) at a pretty smart price; and has been recently clothed in blue morocco.  M. Renouard has also some beautiful copies from the library of De Thou, and a partly uncut Aldine Theophrastus of 1497, which belonged to Henry the Second and Diane de Poictiers; as well as a completely uncut copy of the first Aldine Aristotle.[137] Few men probably have been luckier in obtaining several of their choice articles; and the little anecdotes which he related to me, are such as I make no doubt will appear in the projected catalogue raisonne of his library.  He is just now briskly engaged in the pursuit of uncut Elzevirs ... and coming to breakfast with me, the other morning, he must needs pick up a beautiful copy of this kind, in two small volumes, neatly half bound, (of which I have forgotten the title,) and of which he had been for some time in the pursuit.  M. Renouard also took occasion to tell me that, in his way to my chambers, he had sold, or subscribed, of a forthcoming work to be published by him—­just nine hundred and ninety-nine copies! Of course, after such a trouvaille and such a subscription, he relished his breakfast exceedingly.  He is a man of quick movements, of acute perceptions, of unremitting ardour and activity of mind and body—­ constantly engaged in his business, managing a very extensive correspondence, and personally known to the most distinguished Collectors of Italy.  Like his neighbours, he has his country-house, or rather farm, in Picardy[138] whither he retires, occasionally to view the condition and growing strength of that species of animal, from the backs of which his beloved Aldus of old, obtained the materiel for his vellum copies.  But it is time to wish M. Renouard a good morning, and to take you with me to his neighbour—­

MONS. BRUNET, THE YOUNGER.  This distinguished bibliographer, rather than bookseller, lives hard by—­in the Rue Git-Le-Coeur.  He lives with his father, who superintends the business of the shop.  The Rue Git-Le-Coeur is a sorry street—­very diminutive, and a sort of cropt copy—­to what it should have been, or what it might have been.  However, there lives JACQ.  CH.  BRUNET, FILS:  a writer, who will be known to the latest times in the bibliographical world.  He will be also thanked as well as known; for his Manuel du Libraire is a performance of incomparable utility to all classes of readers and collectors.  You mount up one pair of stairs:—­the way is gloomy, and might well lead to a chamber in the monastery of La Trappe.  You then read an incription, which tells you that “in turning the button you pull the bell.”  The bell sounds, and Mons. Brunet, Pere, receives you—­with,