St. Paul daily globe., 1892-02-07
HIS SIXTEEN-E -EIGHTY-NIHE.

Opt Reid in the Arkansaw Traveller
Off Dearborn street there is an old
book-"jOiDt." it is called-that has
long been known to people who find q
musty delight i'll old style type and
strong binding. 1t is cellar, ap-
preached by dark and narrow stair
way, and many man. attracted thither
by stories that were told of the place,
has turned back in disgust when half
way down the stairs. The old cellar
was of itself as musty as rare first ed-
ton. and was but dimly lighted, but the
eager eyes Of true bibliomanlac soon
discovered the beauties of this. the
wayward hiding place of weary learn
ing, abashed fancies and murdered
ambitions. The walls were covered
with books and the corners were
stacked and jammed with old political
pamphlets. What records of the
laws injustice; what demands for refor-
nations that never came!
This place. known as the s'Bookworm's
joint" was kept by an old man named
Dorsey. He was once the proprietor of
an old book stall in London. Why he
left the worlds relic house of literature
and settled in Chicago is not known.
nor does it materially affect this recital.
L don't know how the old man would
have appeared in the sunlight, for
| never saw him there, but amid the
shadows of his Joint he was most i'm
pressive. His hair was long and white :;
his flowing gray heard seemed to be
kept as Il sort of religion. He was tall.
and bent and feeble. His eyes were of a
mlldewed brown in color, and were so
weak that he conld scarcely read news
paper-today's pert infringement on
the learning of yore--brt with the
swift glance of intuition he could dis
cern the faded title of an ancient tome
Visitors of certain class were well
come, but purchasers seemed to alarm
him. He was compelled to sell books,
income, but it gave hifn pain
to part with a volume. and once. when
the necessity of meeting his rent had
forced him to sell the political pam
phlets of De Foe, he fell upon his
miserable bed and moaned as if his
heart had been broken. He was book
miser. The disastrous year to the com
mercial world was a year of comparative
prosperity to old Dorsey, for then he
was not so much assailed by customers.
AS time passed he grew worse and
hugged his books in an embrace of de-
spair.
One afternoon collector called and
presented him bill.
"What is 1t for?" the old man asked.
trembllngIy adjusting his glasses.
"December rent"
But paid it the other day, didn't
"No, you paid for November about
month ago."
''It seems to me, young man, that Won
were here the other day and that l paid
you for December"
81 can't help how it seems to you. l
know my business, reckon"
"Well, how much is the amount?'
You ought to know. You've paid it
often enough"
"Ah, grant you that" he replied.
scanning the bill. What" he sudden,
ly exclaimed, $40. You have raised
OH me-"
mo, we haven't. It's been $40 for
the last four years."
But don't think ought to pay so
much, young man."
"Well, then, get out. A fellow wants
to start Turkish bath down here, auy-
way"
''Oh, no, no; can't do that. have
been here 80 long that am devotedIy
attached to the place."
well, then, pay your rent"
II will, but can't do it today. Come
around tomorrow"
81 will come tomorrow, and if Won
don't pay then you may know what to
expect. It's growing harder and harder
to get money out of you, and we're get
ting tired Of it. See?''
The collector went out, and Dorsey.
turning to man who had just entered.
asked: "Can l do anything for YOU,
sir?"
"Well, I don't know" the man
room. Thought rd drop in and look
around. Have you catalogues
mo. STRIP
Ought to issue one every once in
while?"
That would be unnecessary, sir, as
don't add to my Stock
"Humph, you don't do very thriving
business
mo. To tell the truth l don't care to
do any business. did at first, though.
l used to purchase largely and get out
catalogue every three months, but now
1.-The truth is, l have only the books
that am attached to, and don't want
to part with them"
''Ha! rather a strange case. But you
must have made considerable money
while you were actively in the bust
ness.'
"Yes, made some, but lost it. Do
you remember fifteen years ago when
the steamship McAlpin was lost?"
Yes, believe do"
81 had $4,000 worth of books on
board and their loss discouraged me so
that have never taken much of an in
terest in business since"
IL see; and the keeping of this place
is now sort of sentiment with you'
"Well, l suppose you might term it a
sentiment. l have lived in this cellar
so long that could not find content
ment elsewhere. should he like the
Chinese prisoner who begged to be re-
admitted into his cell; and these books
are my family. l part with one some
times-and SO does man bury his
children some times"
Yes, that's true.'
The visitor began to browse about,
with the slow emotion of carelessness,
but with an eye of cool and careful
search.
"What have we here?"
zone of the earliest English editions