over that market, the consumer should be supplied more cheaply than in former times; yet such is not the case.  The novels of Mrs. Rowson and Charles B. Brown, and the historical works of Dr. Ramsay, persons who then stood in the first rank of authors, sold as cheaply as do now the works of Fanny Fern, the ‘Reveries’ of Ik Marvel, or the history of Mr. Bancroft; and yet, in the period that has since elapsed, the cost of publication has fallen probably twenty-five per cent.  We have here an inversion of the usual order of things, and it is with these facts before us that you claim to have your monopoly extended over another thirty millions of people; in consideration of which, our people are to grant to the authors of foreign countries a monopoly of the privilege of supplying them with books produced abroad.  This application strikes me as unwise.  It tends to produce inquiry, and that will, probably, in its turn, lead rather to a reduction than an extension of your privileges.  Can it be supposed that when, but a few years hence, our population shall have attained a height of fifty millions, with a demand for books probably ten times greater than at present, the community will be willing to continue to you a monopoly, during forty-two years, of the right of presenting a body that is common property, as compensation for putting it in a new suit of clothing?  I doubt it much, and would advise you, for your own good, to be content with what you have.  Aesop tells us that the dog lost his piece of meat in the attempt to seize a shadow, and such may prove to be the case on this occasion.  So, too, may it be with the owners of patents.  The discoverers of principles receive nothing, but those who apply them enjoy a monopoly created by law for their use.  Everybody uses chloroform, but nobody pays its discoverer.  The man who taught us how to convert India rubber into clothing has not been allowed even fame, while our courts are incessantly occupied with the men who make the clothing.  Patentees and producers of books are incessantly pressing upon Congress with claims for enlargement of their privileges, and are thus producing the effect of inducing an inquiry into the validity of their claim to what they now enjoy.  Be content, my friends; do not risk the loss of a part of what you have in the effort to obtain more.”

The question is often asked:  Why should a man not have the same claim to the perpetual enjoyment of his book that his neighbor has in regard to the house he has built?  The answer is, that the rights of the parties are entirely different.  The man who builds a house quarries the stone and makes the bricks of which it is composed, or he pays another for doing it for him.  When finished, his house is all, materials and workmanship, his own.  The man who makes a book uses the common property of mankind, and all he furnishes is the workmanship.  Society permits him to use its property, but it is on condition that, after a certain time, the whole shall become