He burrowed among quaint accumulations of forgotten
classics. He dipped with astonishment into the savage and
ultra-Rabelaisian satire of Von Hutter's "Epistola, Obscurorum
Virorumf" which set early sixteenth century Europe a-roar with
laughter at the discomfited monks; and he cleansed himself from that
tainted atmosphere in the fresh air and free English of a splendid
Audubon "first"--and all the time he was conscious that the Roman
watched, watched, watched. More than, once Livius offered aid,
seeking to apprise himself of the supposed mute's line of
investigation; but the other smilingly fended him off. At the end
of four days, Average Jones had satisfied himself that if Livius
were seeking anything in particular, he had an indefinite task
before him, for the colonel's bound treasures were in indescribable
confusion. Apparently he had bought from far and near, without
definite theme or purpose. As he bought he read, and having read,
cast aside; and where a volume fell, there it had license to lie.
No cataloguer had ever sought to restore order to that bibliographic
riot.
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