The Haunted Bookshop

unted

ent vistas of husband-propelled baby-carriages, it is to be hoped you ma

ave been the joy of several generations of plumbers and cockroaches. The owner of the business has been at pains to remodel the house to make it a m

ing now and then to look at shop windows as though doubtful of his way. At the warm and shining face of a French rotisserie he halted to compare the number enamelled on

SSUS

D H.

VERS W

HOP IS

d into the dwelling of the muses, lowere

er space was divided into little alcoves; above, a gallery ran round the wall, which carried books to the ceiling. The air was heavy with the del

S HAUNTED b

t literatur

o fakes o

ooks are we

ill babble

e--but don'

-

long as

ll books pl

questions, you'll

bacco smoke

cash fo

nt, though you may

e reading faculty

rescribe

& H. M

op

the glass lamp shades. Passing down a narrow aisle between the alcoves the visitor noticed that some of the compartments were wholly in darkness; in others where lamps were glowing he could see a table and chairs. In one corner, und

) by the gurgitating whorls of smoke and the bright profile of the essay reader. It seemed like a secret fane, some shrine of curious rites, and the young man's throat was tightened by a stricture which was half agitation and half tobac

aps by the delighted soul of Sir Walter Raleigh, patr

that shone with a curious egg-like lustre. It was round and white, gleaming in the sheen of a hangin

he large pigeon-holed desk in front of him was piled high with volumes of all sorts, with tins of tobacco and newspaper clippings and letters. An antiquated typewr

the caller, pleasantly;

oked up, and the visitor saw that he had keen blue eyes, a s

Mifflin. "Anything

s with you the advisability of your letting us handle your advertising account, prepare snappy copy for you, and place i

down his cook-book, blew an expanding

said, "I don't do

other, aghast as at so

ng as benefits me most is done for me by t

Whitewash and Gilt?" sai

doing my advertising are Stevens

"I don't know that agency at all. Still, I

I sell. If I sell a man a book by Stevenson or Conrad, a book that delights

aid Gilbert. "You can't get Distribution that way.

t by looking at you that your mind is ill for lack of books but you are blissfully unaware of it! People don't go to a bookseller until some serious mental accident or disease makes them aware of their danger. Then they come here. For me to advertise would be about as useful as telling people who feel perfectly well that they ought to go to the doctor. Do you know why people are reading

up now, and his visitor watched h

trade. It lies in dignifying it as a profession. It is small use to jeer at the public for craving shoddy books, quack books, untrue books. Physician, cure thyself! Let the bookseller learn to know and revere good books, he will teach the customer.

he way to let them know?" aske

ly when it meets some human hunger or refutes some human error. A book that is good for me would very likely be punk for you. My pleasure is to prescribe books for such patients as drop in here and are willing to tell me their symptoms. Some people have let their reading facu

is the most original and startling thing one can do to attract attention. It was the fact that I do NOT advertise that drew you here. And everyone who comes here thinks

browse about," said the advertising agent.

culation. Never mind! Printer's ink is the greater explosive: it will win. Yes, I have a few of the good books here. There are only about 30,00

pen in the

ookshops at night. The real book-lovers, you know, are generally among the humbler classes. A man who is imp

wrapping table. His eyes were bright and earnest, his short red beard bristled lik

ining one. "Well, sir," he said, "I am ever so grateful to you. I'll

nd the young man found himself beside a large bulletin board covered with clippings, announcements,

phorus, try "Trivia," b

d cleansing, from hilltops and primrose valleys,

horough rough-and-tumbling, try Samuel Butler's "Not

esponsible freakishness, try "The Demi-Gods," by James St

de down now and then, like an hour-glass

tongue can have a lot of f

R MI

bout it already. The young man had heard of none of these books prescribed by the practi

ed by our talk. I'm all alone this evening-my wife is away on a holiday. Won't you st

urprised and pleased by

you," he said. "Are you s

en my wife is away. I have to stay at home, you see, to keep an eye on the shop. We have no servant, and I do the cooking myself. It's gre

front of the shop Mifflin

ETOR A

WANT

THI

ld-fashioned dinner bell, and then

left, where a grate of coals glowed under a dingy mantelpiece of yellowish marble. On the mantel stood a row of blackened corn-cob pipes and a canister of tobacco. Above was a startling canvas in emphatic oils, representing a large blue wagon drawn by a stout white animal-evidently a

my cabinet, my chapel of ease.

Gilbert, "I'm

al evening. He was a young man of agreeable parts, amiable and sensitive. He knew his disadvantages in literary conversation, for he had gone to an excellent college where glee clubs and theatricals had le

ry. Gilbert browsed along the shelves curiously. The volumes were mostly shabby and bruised; they had evidently bee

o feel themselves handicapped by a college career and a jewelled fraternity emblem. It suddenly struck him that it would be valuable to make a list of some o

Francis Thomp

ory of Smok

o Rome: Hi

k of Te

ughts: F.

s Prayers an

Ogilvy: J

ns of a T

e of the Oxford

's War: C.

Man: edited by

any Rye

Emily D

George

Cobwebs: Ge

of Advertising (who is a jealous mistress) he had best call a halt, when hi

is set. You want to wash your hands? Make hast

were curtains of laughing chintz and pots of pink geranium. The table, under a drop-light in a flame-coloured silk screen, was brightly set with silver an

of a platter. "These are eggs Samuel Butler, an

the chief masonries are a flake of bacon, an egg poached to firmness, a wreath of mushrooms, a cap-sheaf of red peppers; the whole dribbled with a warm pink

d the sunshine very pleasantly (and cheaply) fulfil their allotted

accent which will be en rapport with the mood of the hearer. Mr. Gilbert was aware of this, and felt that quit

so delicious an entree in so few minutes? You are not hoaxing me? There is

in Boston. She becomes, quite justifiably, weary of the tobacco of this establishment, and once or twice a year it does her good to breathe the pure serene of Beacon Hi

lbert, "that life in a bookshop

afternoon reading, and my mind works itself up to such a passion and anxiety over mortal problems as almost unmans me. It is terribly nerve-racking. Surround a man with Carlyle, Emerson, Tho

raries are shrines of such austere calm? If books are as provocative as you suggest, one would expect every

souls, just as I fall back upon the rites of the kitchen. Librarians would all go mad, those capable of conc

ho was the butler whose name

f to die before he has read that book, and also Erewhon, has deliberately forfeited his chances of paradise. For paradise in the world to come is uncert

in his pocketbook, and I am pleased to say that his heart was moved to a realization of his iniquity, for he was observed at the Public Library a few days later asking for a

consists of apple sauce, gingerbread, and coffee." He rapidly clea

Gilbert. "I hope you will let me help you this evening?" H

WASH

TELY AF

VES T

it there whenever she goes away, to remind me. But, as our friend Samuel Butler says, he that is stupid in littl

, I erected a reading stand and an electric light over the sink, and used to read while my hands went automatically through base gestures of purification. I made the great spirits of literatu

ters at their

n round earth's

as a penance, under duress. No matter what the work is, one must spiritualize it in some way, shatter the o

tion I needed. I had been worrying over the mental strain of being surrounded all day long by vociferous books, crying

of philosophic halo! The warm, soapy water became a sovereign medicine to retract hot blood from the head; the homely act of washing and drying cups and sau

in life. The ruddy shine of the stove is as beautiful as any sunset. A well-polished jug or spoon is as fair, as complete and beautiful, as any sonnet. The dish mop, properly rinsed and wrung and hung out

have finished our meal, I insist upon your letting me give you a hand

s a poor philosophy that will not abide denial now and then. No, no-I did not ask you t

wheedled himself into Mrs. Mifflin's good graces, and ended by putting us both into a book, called Parnassus on Wheels, which has been rather a trial to me. In that book he attribu

heard of it,

ish concern over corn-cobs and cider. We have all sorts and conditions of booksellers: one is a fanatic on the subject of libraries. He thinks that every public library should be dynamited. Ano

p from another. His mind gradually fills itself with miscellaneous flotsam, with superficial opinions, with a thousand half-knowledges. Almost unconsciously he begins to rate literature according to wha

ed, engulfed by the torrent of men's words, he is willing to listen to them all. Even to the publisher's salesman he turns

I consider have some honest reason for existence. In so far as human judgment can discern, I try to k

There is a certain wealthy man, a Mr. Cha

the Chapman Daintybits Company?" said Gilb

ve," said Mifflin.

aple of civilization and culture. I myself devised that slogan 'We preen ourselves on our prunes' which you see in every big magazine. Chapman prunes are known the world over. The Mikado eats them once a week. The Pope eats them. Why, we have just heard that thirtee

offered many a shrewd comment. He has grown so enthusiastic about the bookseller's way of life that the other day he wrote to me about his daughter (he is a widower). She has been attending a fashionable girls' school where, he says, they have filled her head with absurd, wasteful, snobbish notions. He says she has no more idea of the usefulness and beauty of life than a Pomeranian dog. Instead

rt, "what advertising

evening is often rather busy," he said. "I'm afraid I'll have to go down on the

ed myself," said Gilbert. "I'm going

all you young blades dropping in here to unsettle her mind. If she falls in

ded man who looked like a college professor. "Carlyle's Oliver Cromwell?" h