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THE ART OF BOOK-MAKING.
ribe of fungi.

    Let us not t over to ers descend; t submit to t laure, er sed in tion, but  sion after generation, botable life, passes a tal principle is transmitted to posterity, and tinue to ?ouris aut is to say, olen.

    I  a pile of reverend folios.  o tions for to t of to tude arising from muco an unlucky  of napping at improper times and places, ed, so it  I fell into a doze. Still, ion continued busy, and indeed tinued before my minds eye, only a little cails. I dreamt t till decorated raits of ancient aut t tables  t repository of cast-off clotreet. ies common to dreams, met it turned into a garment of foreign or antique faso equip ticed,  no one pretended to cloticular suit, but took a sleeve from one, a cape from anot from a t piecemeal, w from among his borrowed ?nery.

    tly, rosy, rived to slip on tle of one of to look exceedingly  tenance set at naugrappings of leman   of several old court-dresses of trimmed ly from an illuminated manuscript, uck a nosegay in ;ty Devices,quot; and  Sir P on one side of rutted off e air of vulgar elegance. A t of puny dimensions, ered  bravely racts of p , but ably tattered in rear, and I perceived t c from a Latin author.

    tlemen, it is true,  eclipsing too, seemed to contemplate tumes of ters, merely to imbibe taste, and to catc; but I grieve to say, t too many  to array top to toe, in tcioned. I s omit to speak of one genius, in drab breecers, and an Arcadian , y to toral, but s of   Primrose udes of ts Pa
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