The times., 1901-03-10
ANCIENT TONES MOVING
A Boston Resort Iof BibliOphiles
Taking a New Home.
Famous Men Have BrOwsed About
Its Dusty Observation-Disclosures of
Volumes in Small SpRce-Neritable
Paradise of Literary LounEers.

Volumes in Small SpRce-Neritabl
Paradise of Literary Loungers.
In Bromfield Street is a little second
hand bookshop. soon to disappear. that
is so dusty and quaint and worn IN ap-
pearance that it looks as if it might nave
been there 100 years. Its atmosphere Is
essentially bookish, but this is not to be
wondered at when one considers that in
this small space-the dimensions are
4oIl2X24 feet-are stored over 1900 vol
umes
Books of all kinds. costly or inexpen-
sive, well preserved, or tattered and fad
ed are TO be found in this heterogeneous
collection. Bibles and little goody-goody
memoirs and primers crowd atheistical
treatises; discarded sChOolbOoks and for
gotten poems are heaped in dusty
mounds, while a long, low shelf is cover
ed with the very real. ephemeral litter
Of modern magazines. The books reach
the ceiling in such high, irregular piles
that, as one looks up a giddinesS seizes
him. What if all these word mountains
should topple. and tumble down upon one
and bury him in a heap of learning? 9th
erwise it is a friendly little shop; one may
run his fingers along the dusty shelves.
and pull down the books of his desire or
he may even mount the stepladder to
survey the volumes above his head Hos
| ritable signs guide him to poetry and
! prose, and wherever the walls give tack
hold engrayings and fashion plates are
fastened up.
Outside of the door are small cases
| holding the cheaper books. Here many
passers-by pause. Who knows what fu-
| ture geniuscs have come, like book-starv-
| ed Chatterton and Coleridge to handle
| and caress the volumes that they could
| not hope to buy? There are, however,
! bolder bookwOrms, without money in
! their pockets, who calmly walk inside to
/ browse over the quaint periodicals and
faded books, that they cannot afford to
| purchase, yet long for with ali their
hearts. Young driven penny -a-liners'
J also enter to CLEAN from old sources. and
weave the forgotten thoughts of other
men and women into their daily potboil-
| iugs.
But this shop has other and better
| known visitors, for there is something
about old books as fascinating to men
who write as honey is TO ries Dexter
| Smith, Gelett Burgess, oscar Fay Adams,
| Edward Everett Hale, Arthur Macy,
Thomas Wentworth HiisSinson, William
| Charming, Frank B. SanDorn, and John
| d. Long are some of the men who have
found this little book store pleasant.
| There are also many others of lesser
| present Idiues DuI men ana women VINO
read and write and think and 50 find
these secondhand books congenial com
paniOns.
The shopkeeper seems to be as popular
as his wares He is a man about thirty
six years old, Scotch-Irish by birth, yet
| entirely a canny Scot" his friends de
clare, But something softer than the
Scotch burr miugles in his speech, for his
! accent is gentle, his voice persuasive.
| Sometimes he sits a his Brownie guarded
desk, again walks about to wait on stran-
gers or to chat with friends.
The latter help themselves. It's part
| of their training in this place, he said,
VITA smile. When he is at leisure he
| viii talk interestingly of the people who
frequent his shop, and tell some of the
| gOOd-natured ''grinds' that have become
part and parcel Of his stock in trade.
| one Of them is unusually good. 1t ap-
pears that Dexter Smith, the song writer
reached fame when he was very young
! When Put Me in My Little Bed was
written he was scarcely more than a boy
| Yet most people imagine that its author
| must either be an old man or dead from
sheer age. and when this particular ce-
lebrity is pointed out TO them, they inva-
riably say: Dexter Smith. Oh, yes, he
| must be related TO the author of the same
name who wrote that old song. Put Me
in My Little Bed and refuse to believe
| that Mr.. Smith wrote his own words.
This grind, Andrew, as his friends call
him, tells with delight.
! Andrew is particular admirer Of
Gelett Burgess, the author of The Pur-
pie Cow and the originator of the
clever Coop people. But il is Mr.. Bur
CESS Ballad or the Effeminate' that
most forcibly appeals to him, and which
| he most strongly praises. And thereby
hangs tale. one day one OF his better
! known customers came in, followed by
a man he did not know. For q while
| she discussed books then suddenly said :
MI -, how would you like to meet
Gelett Burgess?" Madam" he replied
there is no one l would rather meet
than the author of The Man That Likes
| It Showing and was surprised to have
his wish Immediately gratified, for the
| man who had overheard his own praises
SO enthusiastlcaIly sung was Mr Bur
| CESS himself.
This dusty little shop was the beginning
| OF an original sort of club. About ten
| men, some OS whom write and all of
whom are fond of reading and discussion,
| formed the habit Of dropping in there to
chat and argue. Gradually they have ar
ranged themselves into a kind of ques-
tiOn class, or, as Mr.. Smith calls il. "A
| General Worry Club They play at this
| literary game. OStensibly for the pur-
pose Of diffusing know edge but, to an
outsider 1t seems that they are trying to
become experts in the gentle art Of un-
seating each others reason, so many odd
, out-of-the-way questions are asked
who wrote The Culprit Fay and XII
: meuy2' Name three English poets be-
tween Chaucer and Spenser,' What are
the Chiltern Hundreds" How is the
/ word basin, used in the ecclesiastical
sense spelled ?' What was the first Eng
5 Iish Comedy. and who was its author?"
These are few of the mideT questions
one man has a strong hold on classical
) learning. another is proud Of his biblical
z memory. while q third member is secure
in his knowledge of English literature Of
the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries,
ana trips his opponents upon quotations
from obscure dramatlsts.
The diugiucss and dUstiness Of this lit
tie shop are the goOd-humOred butts Of
these literary lOungerS Just at present
the books are being taken from floor and
shelves and piled in towers Of such gro
tesque and irregular proportions, prepar-
iatCry to moving, that Il touch sends them
} sliding down.
spcaking in tones Of hushed awe. Look
3 and rcmemberi Never in all my life be
fore have / ever seen that corner clean
and clear.
one book lover pouuced with avidity
upon a shelf, hitherto blocked from sight
by heaps OF musty old books. "Ahi" he
cried. dclishtcdly, y have been waiting
wears for this clearing. It's like one of
those vast upheavais of nature, those in
uudations that lay bare the bones Of the
mast adon that have been hidden in cliff
for years" And he proceeded to pull
about and collect the tgurative mastadon
homes he had waited for so long.
And SO the joking and fun go on. I'm
douhtedlv the customers and the General
Worry Club viii follow the bookseller in
his coming migration to other and larger
! quarters and it is a law of nature that
wherever books are. there will dust and
robwehs be also: but 1t is a question
whether the newer and more commodiOuS
store will give the effect Of quaint.
q.