The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser.
Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1855-09-18 00:00:00

SUPPLEMENT TO THE LIVERPOOL STAN

108

which bewilder a student in a great bookseller's
temptation-hall ?
How easily one may distinguish a genuine lover
of books from the worldly man ! With what
subdued and yet glowing enthusiasm does he gaze
upon the costly front of a thousand embattled
volumes ! How gently he draws them down as if
they were little children ; how tenderly he handles
them ! He peers at the title-page, at the text, or
the notes, with the nicety of a bird examining a
flower. He studies the binding ; the leather—
Russia, English, calf, morocco ; the lettering, the
gilding, the edging, the hinge of the cover ! He
opens it and shuts it, he holds it off and brings it
nigh. It suffuses his old body with book-mag-
netism. He walks up and down in a maze, at
the mysterious allotments of Providence that gives
so much money to men who spend it upon their
appetites, and so little to men who would spend
it in benevolence, or upon their refined taste !
It is astonishing, too, how one's necessities mul-
tiply in the presence of the supply. One is sur-
prised to perceive, at some bazaar or fancy and
variety store, how many conveniences he needs.
He is satisfied that his life must have been utterly
inconvenient aforetime. And thus, too, he is in-
wardly convicted, at Appletons's, of having lived
for years without books which he is now satisfied
that one cannot live without.

Then, too, the subtle process by which the man
convinces himself that he can afford to buy. No
subtle manager or broker ever saw through a
maze of financial embarrassments half so quick as
a poor book-buyer sees his way clear to pay for
what he must have. He promises with himself
marvels of retrenchment—he will eat less, or
drink less costly viands, that he may buy more
food for the mind. He will take an extra patch,
and go on with his raiment another year and buy
books instead of coats. Yes, he will write books
that he may buy books. He will lecture, teach,
trade ; he will do any honest thing for money to
buy books ! The appetite is insatiable. Feeding
does not satisfy it. It rages by the fuel which is
put upon it. As a hungry man eats first, and
pays afterward, so the book-buyer purchases, and
then works at the debt afterward. The paying
is rather medicinal. It cures for a time. But a
relapse takes place. The same longing, the
same promises of self-denial. He promises him-
self to put spurs on both heels of his industry ;
and then, besides all this, he will somehow get
along when the time for payment comes ! Ah !
this somehow ! That word is as big as a whole
world, and is stuffed with all the vagaries and
fantasies that fancy ever bred upon hope. And
yet, is there not some comfort in buying books to
be paid for ? We have heard of a sot, who wished
his neck as long as the worm of a still that he
might so much the longer -enjoy the flavour of
the draught!! Thus it is a prolonged excitement
of purchase, if you feel for six months in a slight
doubt whether the book is honestly your own or
not. Had you paid down that would have been
the end of it. There would have been no affec-
tionate and beseeching look of your books at you,
every time you saw them, saying, as plain as a
book's eyes can say, " Do not let me be taken
from you."
Moreover, buying books before you can pay for
them promotes caution. You do not feel quite at
liberty to take them home. You are married.
Your wife keeps an account book. She knows to
a penny what you can and what you cannot
afford. She has no " speculation " in her eyes.
Plain figures make desperate work with airy
" somehow." It is a matter of no small skill and
experience to get your books home, and into their
proper places undiscovered. Perhaps the blunder-
ing express brings them to the door just at evening,

" What is it, my dear ?" she says to you.
"0, nothing—a few books that I cannot do
without."
That smile ! A true housewife that loves her
husband can smile a whole arithmetic at him in
one look ! Of course she insists, in the kindest
way, in sympathising with you in your literary
acquisition. She cuts the strings of the bundle
(and of your heart) and out comes the whole story.
You have bought a complete set of costly English
books, full bound in calf, extra gilt ! You are
caught, and feel very much as if bound in calf
yourself, and admirably lettered.
Now, this must not happen frequently. The
books must be smuggled home. Let them be
sent to some near place. Then, when your wife
has a headache, or is out making a call, or has
lain down, run the books across the frontier and
threshold, hastily undo them, stop only for one
loving glance as you put them in the closet, or
behind other books on the shelf. Clear away the
twine and wrapping-paper, and every suspicious
circumstance. Be very careful not to be too kind.
That often brings on detection. Only the other
day we heard it said, somewhere,
" Why, how good you have been lately. lam
really afraid that you have been carrying on mis-
chief secretly."

" Our heart smote us. It was a fact. That
very day we had bought a few books which we
could not do without.' After a while, you can
bring out one volume, accidentally, and leave it
on the table."

" Why, my dear, what a beautiful book ! where
did you borrow it ?"
You can glance over the newspaper, with the
quietest tone you can command.
" That ! oh that is mine. Have you not seen
it before ? It has been in the house these two
months"—and you rush on with anecdote and
incident, and point out the binding, and tkpecu-
liar trick of gilding, and everything else-3= can
think of ; but it all will not do—you cannot rub
out that roguish, arithmetical smile. People may
talk about the equality- of the sexes ! They are
not equal. The silent smile of a sensible, loving
woman, will vanquish ten men. Of course you
repent, and in time form a habit of repenting.
Another method which will be found peculiarly
effective is, to make a present of some fine work
to your wife. Of course, whether she or you
have the name of buying it, it will go into your
collection, and be yours to all intents and pur-
poses. But it stops remark in the presentation.
A wife could not reprove you for so kindly think-
ing of her. No matter what she suspects, she
will say nothing. And then if there are three or
more works, which have come with the gift-book,
they will pass through the favour of the other.
These are pleasures denied to wealth and old
bachelors. Indeed, one cannot imagine the pecu-
liar pleasure of buying books, if one is rich and
stupid. There must be some pleasure, or so many
would not do it. But the full flavour, the whole
relish of delight, only comes to those who are so
poor that they must engineer for every book.
They sit down before them, and besiege them.
They are captured. Each book has a secret his-
tory of ways and maims. It reminds you of
subtle devices by which you insured and made it
yours, in spite of poverty !