Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, 1890-10-10
The STORY
THE BOOKSELLER.
A Strange Tale of the City of
Mexico in Our Day.

4
merely the proprietor of little stall where
second hand books are veDded.
| A bookseller is never a commonplace NOR.
tal-he rubs up against knowledge and be-
comes learned by absorption. 1t is the most
respectable of vocations.
| would feel more complimented by being
addressed in fraternal way by bookseller
| than by receiving nod from a duke. Con-
Tossing thus these weaknesses, it is not to be
wondered at that one of nv haunts in the
| ancient city Of Mexico is certain bookstore
with quaint old name over the door. 1t is
| queer, dusky place, and, when you go in
side the contrast with the glare of the sun
| In the street is startling. You feel that you
may be, perehanee, in tomb Of literature,
a catacomb of books.
The two windows which allow some light
to flow into the shop filed with books
temptingly displayed. like to stand close,
very close, to those windows, and look over
| the titles of the books, most of them paper
| bound. They rage over many fields of in
| formation There are treatiss on the noble
art OF bull fighting, really quite respect
| able art, with a whole literature, embracing
treatiss on the technique of the subject,
biographies of noted espadas, etc. Then,
too, you will see in the windows of this
/ tTdUSleHL seat OI UOOhS Oh SCleuCSy
| the lives OF saints, the latest Spanish novels
| fresh from the Madrid and Barcelona presses,
translations from the French and gaudily
ironted works, more gay than edifying, such
is the Latin frankness.
| After you have peeped in the windows,
| you will pass inside the shop and make the
| acquaintance of nv old and venerated
friend Don Carlos Baltasar, a famous book
seller, who has seen the book shops Of
| Mexico grow and multiply during mis-
nearly go years in the trade. He Is a rosy
checked old gentleman, and after dinner he
often will be found mapping behind his
counter, comfortably seated in a chair.
| Close at hand on the counter is a large
| black cat, who knows full well that her life
is passed among authors and book buyers.
She is as erudite as MinPrVa's owl.
| Up 10 three months ago Don Carlos Bal
| tasar lived a most tranquil, even-howing
| lie. He came to the shop at in the morn
| ing, talked with his customers, smoked in
Vulnerable fragrant cigarettes, went home
to dine at 1, returned to the shop at g. and
went home again to supper, TO game OF
chess and an early bed. His only excite
ment was the incoming of the Madrid and
| Barcelona packets Of books and papers, q
| frequent event.
His assistants in the shop long ago took
the burden of the work off the old mans
| shoulders. You would fancy that when
man had attained the age of 7S the rest of
his life would flow on to the grave as quietly
as the most sluggish of streams.
| But fate ordained that there should happen
to this serene old bookseller one of the most
extraordinary adventures recorded In the
| annals OF human kind.
| 1t is all as fantastic as if it had transpired
in Bagdad in the times of the good Caliph.
Since my venerable friend told me what I
have ventured to call THE Story of the
| Bookseller" L have not walked ''these
streets of God" as the Spaniards say,
without feeling that the most marvellous
and incredible things might occur to ME.
1t is now late in September. The adven-
| lures OF Don Carlos took place in early July
of this year, 1890. L will tell the tale in the
third person, for my friend has not yet sue
ceeded in getting all the facts in his oral
narrative into consecutive order.
On the morning of the 9th of July, the
hour close to 10 o'clock, an old woman,
wzened OF feature, blaek-eyed and vender
OF snuff entered the book store and saluted
her faithful customer, Don Carlos. He
bought his customary peseta's worth, gave
her his usual "go you With God, my friend"
and resumed his perusal of the morning
paper. The snuff he tried, to ascertain if
the standard was still maintained, and he
found, to his surprise, that it was finer than
any he had ever purchased. Go and call
back the old womaD," said Don Carlos to a
lad in the shop, 'for wish to buy an extra
lot of this excellent snuff" The lad went
out, but the old woman had disappeared.
Pinch after pinch the old bookseller took;
it was most tempting stuff He felt i'm
credibly young. He hummed a tune he had
forgotten since he was a boy at home in
Spain. He even whistled, at which the
clerks looked up in wonder, and then signif-
cantly nodded to one another. While in
this pleasant frame of mind, his thoughts
away in other years, far remote from the
quiet shop, Don Carlos saw again the old
woman enter. This was most extraordinary
for her to do She had never before come
twice in one day. And she had come of he's
own will, for the shop boy had not found
her. She looked oddly at the old book
seller, and said to him in a low voice:
Come with me, my friend; one who knows
you is dying, and you are wanted to witness
the will.
Why Don Carlos obeved without a aues-
ton he says he will never be able to explain
to himself. He said he telt that he must go,
and he had in his blood that day the energy
OF his youthgime.
The old woman led the way through the
streets, across the great sunny, busy plaza,
the Cathedral clock sounding the noon hour,
on and on through ancient streets behind
the great church to No. - Gale de Mon
tealegre. The house was old, very old. It
had been built in viceregal times. 1t had q
dark red front, oddly shaped windows, and
projecting waterspouts, ,queerly carved Don
Carlos recognized the house as the home and
Office of patron of his shop, wealthy
lawyer, famous in the city for his learning
and his skill.
The old woman lifted the knocker of the
door, which, strangely enough, was closed
at high noon, and the door was at once
opened from behind by some person out Of
sight.
Don Carlos was astonished, and well he
mightbe. The courtyard was in the ancient
style. Many quantity ly-dressed servants
stood around. A great coach Of the fashion
OF the early part of the last century stood
near the fountain, servants were Harvesting
to it pair of mules of undeniable Spanish
breed. But he had no time in which to vent
his feeling of surprise in words; his guide
hurried him upstairs, and. passing from the
corridor into a huge chamber hung with
dark tapestry, he found himself among
many people. A great bed stood in the
middle of the rearward wall On it lay an
aged man, pallid, emaciated, the eyes lus-
terlcss. There were at the bedside lawyer
aud notary, dressed in a fashion which
was in nothing like the garmenture of the
year 1890. Young men in the costumes Of
gallsnts of the viceregal court of 100, were
there, all weeping, as were also several
young women and the white-haired dame,
whom Don Carlos soon found to be the wife