The
ladies--the single ladies, at least--however disinterested I know
they are by sex and nature, will, I hope, resolve to have some of
the advantages of these books, by never marrying any but members of
the Athenaeum. It seems to me it ought to be the pleasantest
library in the world.
Hazlitt says, in speaking of some of the graceful fancies of some
familiar writer of fiction, "How long since I first became
acquainted with these characters; what old-fashioned friends they
seem; and yet I am not tired of them like so many other friends,
nor they of me." In this case the books will not only possess all
the attractions of their own friendships and charms, but also the
manifold--I may say womanfold--associations connected with their
donors. I can imagine how, in fact, from these fanciful
associations, some fair Glasgow widow may be taken for the remoter
one whom Sir Roger de Coverley could not forget; I can imagine how
Sophia's muff may be seen and loved, but not by Tom Jones, going
down the High Street on any winter day; or I can imagine the
student finding in every fair form the exact counterpart of the
Glasgow Athenaeum, and taking into consideration the history of
Europe without the consent of Sheriff Alison. I can imagine, in
short, how through all the facts and fictions of this library,
these ladies will be always active, and that
"Age will not wither them, nor custom stale
Their infinite variety.
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