In Luck at Last

ming this earthly pilgrimage, there would be, I have always thought, an immediate run upon that way of

odd volumes at twopence apiece. As for "pitch" or situation, one would wish it to be somewhat retired, but not too much; one would not, for instance, willingly be thrown away in Hoxton, nor would one languish in the obscurity of Kentish Town; a second-hand bookseller must not be so far removed from the haunts of men as to place him practically beyond the reach of the collector; nor, on the other hand, should he be planted in a busy thoroughfare-the noise of many vehicles, the hurry of quick footsteps, the swift current of anxious humanity are out of harmony with the atmosphere of a second-hand bookshop. Some suggestion of external repose is absolutely necessary; there must be some stillness in the air; yet the thing itself belongs essentially to the c

ll London for a second-hand bookshop is that oc

k and the old church, with its red-brick tower, and the new Embankment, are all so close that they seem part and parcel of the King's Road. The great Hospital is within five minutes' walk, and sometimes the honest veterans themselves may be seen wandering in the road. The air is heavy with associations and memories. You can actually smell the fragrance of the new-made Chelsea buns, fresh from the oven, just as you would a hundred years ago. You may sit with dainty damsels, all hoops and furbelows, eating custards at the Bun-house; you may wander among the rare plants

bookseller who respects himself must present an exterior which has something of faded splendor, of worn paint and shabbiness. Within the shop, books line the walls and cumber the floor. There are an outer and an inner shop; in the former a small table stands among the books, at which Mr. James, the assistant, is always at work cataloguing, when he is not tying up parcels; sometimes even with gum and paste repairing the slighter ravages of time-foxed bindings and close-cut margins no man can repair. In the latter, which is Mr. Emblem's sanctum, there are chairs and a table, also covered with books, a writing-desk, a small safe, and a glass case, wherein are secured the more costly books in stock. Emblem's, as must

still trying to pick up a bargain; there are no eyes so sharp as those which pry into the contents of a box full of old books, tumbled together, at sixpence apiece. The bookseller himself partakes of the noble enthusiasm of the collector, though he sells his collection; like the amateur, the pr

e and a half in gazing up at the clear sky and down the sunny street. Then he stretched his arms and returned to his work, impelled by the sense of duty rather than by the scourge of necessity, because there was no hurry about the catalogue and most of the books in it were rubbish, and at that season of the year few customers could be expected, and there were no parcels to tie up and send out. He went back to his work, therefore, but he left the door partly open in order to enjoy the sight of the warm sunshine. Now for Emblem's to have its door open, was much as if Mr. Emblem himself should so far forget his self-respect as to sit in his shirt-sleeves. The shop had been rather dark, the window being full of books, but now through the open door there poured a little stream of sunshine, reflected from some far off window. It fell upon a row of old eighteenth century volumes, bound in dark and rusty leather, and did so light up and glorify the dingy bindings and faded gold, that they seemed fresh from the binder's hands, and just ready for the noble purchaser, long

n battles fought long before the Corsican Attila was let loose upon the world. His face wears the peaceful and wise expression which belongs peculiarly to his profession. Other callings make a man look peaceful, but not all other callings make him look wise. Mr. Emblem was born by nature of a calm temperament,-otherwise he would not have been happy in his business; a smile lies generally upon his lips, and his eyes are soft and benign; his hair is white, and his face, once ruddy, is pale, yet not shrunk and seamed with furrows as happens to so many old men, but round and firm; like his chin and lips it is clean shaven; he wears a black coat extra

of London, made him sleepy. In his hand he held a letter which he had been reading for the hundredth time, and of which h

dred and sixty-four, a year when very few were tempted to try their fortunes in a country torn by civ

, in her husband's arms, "come wh

shook his

nto stronger and rougher hands. Perhaps over there we

, a scholar, and a creature of retired and refined tastes and manners. There are, perhaps, some still living who have survived the tempestuous life of the ordinary Fleet Street "newspaper man" of twenty or thirty years ago; perhaps

e. "Oh, my dear, if I were only going with you! And but for

emory, the old man saw how the young

uld I have in the world? Courage, my wife, courage and hope. I sha

rted and the s

s eyes and looked abo

s. Twenty years ago, and he never saw his wife again. Never aga

st-at seventy-five the eyes are drier than at forty, and one is no lon

was written on thin foreign paper, and the creases of the folds had beco

me. It would be a strange thing only to think upon this journey which lies before me, and which I must take alone, h

ong, but we thought that as we were quite poor, and likely to remain poor, it would be well to keep our secret to ourselves. Forgive us

and sister together, but I did not love her, though I was engaged to her. In break

ust as if nothing had happened to destroy his old affection-subject to one condition-viz., that the girl to whom I was firs

y enough even to bury me, and yet, if I were at home, I might be called a rich man, as men go. My little Iris will be an heiress. A

ad, and the wealth that has come is useless to me. Wherefore, nothing no

help to give her self-respect. If any misfortune should fall upon you, such as the loss of health or wealth, give the papers inclosed to a trustworthy solicitor, and bid him act as is best in the interests of Iris. If, as I h

h this engagement. There is also in the packet my portrait, taken when I was a lad of sixteen; give her that as well; there is the certificate of my marriage, my register of baptism, that of Iris's baptism, my signet ring-" "His arms"-the old man interrupted his reading-"his arms were: quarterly: first and fourth, two roses and a boar's head, erect; second and third, gules and fesse

if the writer had designed to add

h stated: "Mr. Aglen died November 25th, 1866, an

safe, which stood with open door in the corner furthest from the fireplace. Among its contents was a packet seal

ficate." He fell into a fit of musing, with the papers in his hand. "She will be safe, whatever happens to me; and as for me, if I lose her-of course I shall lo

e which fastened the bundle, so that it should form a p

ave read it in the last eighteen years, and how often I have wondered what the child

d the packet, locked the s

his slips with punctilious regard to duty, had bee

James murmured. "Ah! and adding 'em up! Always

ragged in his dress, but he was clearly a gentleman. He was no longer young; his

me," said the as

his arm half-a-dozen volumes, which, without a wor

s book," he said witho

ked doubtfully

y-five years ago," he we

ou are Mr. Frank Farrar. Why,

books for twenty year

once my best customer. And now-you do not mean to say that you are

oks," replied the other with a sigh.

ne cannot bear to think of the libraries being dispersed and s

the devil drives. I have parted with half my books already. But I thou

ost my best customer-I think almost my very best-thirty years ago, when my trade was better than it is now. Yes, you gave me five pounds-or w

r it, then?" cried the other ea

m poor. I will not buy your book, but I will send you to a man who will give you ten pounds for it, I am sure, and then he will sell it for

h; "I am old, as I told you, and the younger men get all the

s dead eighteen years since. I was just reading the last letter he ever wrote to me, just befo

r. Farrar. "Yes, I remember your son-i

his real name," but he paused, because it is a pity ever to acknowledge ignoran

lem checke

r continued; "but he quarreled with his fathe

arket for his learned papers, tied up his

r a couple o' pounds, I would. Ay, or a sov, so seedy he is, and wants money so bad. And I know who'd have given twelve pound for it, in the trade too. Call that carrying on business? He may well add up

ay be at ease, set down his bag, opened his notebook, and nibbled his stump. Then he read aloud, with a comma or semicolon between each, a dozen or twenty titles. They were the names of the books whic

ho opened the door, put in his head, and looked about him with a quick and suspicious glance.

weather. Pray don't disturb yourself. I am just having a loo

the habit of a book-hunter, taking down the volumes, looking at the title-pages a

ne might almost suppose that he suspected him, so close and assiduous was his assistance. But the visitor, accepting these attentions as if they were customary, and the result of high breeding,

o much personal kindness and attention as at Emblem'

d; and closed th

paste and his slips. "That was Mr. Potts, the great Queen Anne collector, sir. Most notorious book-snatcher in all London, and the most barefaced. Wanted our fourth volume of the 'Athenian Oracle.' I saw his eye

am of Iris and her father's letter; "ah, they

he returned to his gum and his scissors. "Mig

containing the volume which is missing in his own set; next, he arms himself with a volume which closely resembles the one he covets, and then, on pretense of turning over the leaves, he watches his opportunity to effect an exchange, and goes away rejoicing, his set complete. No collector, as is very well known, whether of

opened, and there stepped in, rubbing his shoes on the mat as if he belonged to the house, an elderly gentleman of somewhat singular appearance. He wore a fez cap, but was otherwise dressed as an Englishman-in black frock coat, that is, butto

Mr. James and walke

sked, "with the buyi

, Lala,

e who meditates," said the Hindoo, looking round. "T

ld is we

d to perceive a simple method which I trie

friend, but I think

nothing in the world that is able to

fully, as if he, too, was a di

sertion was sensibly im

, which is a gain; nor fall from greatness-nothing. Nevertheless," his eyes did look

Emblem. "Indeed I am sure that i

ut ourselves, my friend, we might leave her to them. But she

the door of communication between house

ngish man of thirty or so, who stepped into the shop with an air of business, and, taking no

ter he's been counting up his investmen

th no connection, have to make business for themselves. This, in London, they do by encouraging the county court, setting neighbors by the ears, lending money in small sums, fomentin

t in a menacing tone, but as o

," the bookseller

ou going to

the old bookseller began, h

ee fifty is the amount.

epared to pay off the bill of sale. T

t this time the princi

nother client to

, and your security, Mr. Emb

is there, and s

s what that is worth? All your books together m

hat am

all the world knows-you've been for years saving up for your granddaughter. You told Joe o

t he ought not to have told this to hi

or him. I know that. But is it business like, Mr. Emblem, to wast

ly do not, and I cannot explain. But about th

administrators and assigns all and singular the several chattels and things specifically described in the schedule hereto annexed by way

. Chalker. I k

ure. It is five years sinc

old law books out of your office,

t the circ

ne does not readily forget that circumsta

held my

om you, and the sum has beco

ersuasive-"why not take me into your confidence? Make a friend of me. You want advice; let me advise you. I can get you good investments-far better than you know anything of-good and safe investments-at six certain, and sometimes seven and even eight per cent. Make me your man of business-come now. As for this trumpery bill of sale-this trifle of three f

ve, but somehow Mr. E

wever, he lif

hree week

weeks

find the money wi

ppose there will be only one thing left to do-real

l look round me, and-and-do my

urned the solicitor, "is to take me as

Good-day,

er stopped for a moment a

ss?" he asked

throws it all away, and neglects his

eed," the sol

h he should himself like to be that successor. "The goodwill won't be w

bout to ask a question, but said nothing. He remembered, in time, that the sh

-pound note," continued Mr. James, whispering, "and he don't l

returned to

Mr. Emblem," he repea

her inheritance. At least, she would not suffer. As for himself-He looked round the little back shop, and tried to recall the fifty years he had spent there, the books he had bought and sold, the money which had slipped through his fingers

, "I thought it wo

s his tea-time. He rose mechani