It had a dying sweetness, a funereal majesty, a winterward regret.

the swing wheel […]is represented as being locked by one of its teeth on the nib or detent part of the right hand pallet, and the moment when the wheel is unlocked, the tooth at the left hand pallet is ready to press forward and raise up that pallet

Are there not many desultory, indiscriminate, wholesale readers,—mere helluones librorum, or book-gluttons,—who would profit by thus thoroughly digesting and assimilating one great author, instead of regaling themselves upon all the luscious, lulling fruits that tempt their literary appetites?

Can you check into his story? See if you can disprove it.