The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1902-08-10

ITS READING ROOM CALLED THE
CASUAL WARD OF LITERATURE.
Its Most Regular Frequenters People
Who Have Failed in Life and
Find the Place "A Refuge.


part the casual ward OF literature.
Beneath the great dome. seated along the
drab-colored. yet comfortable desks. one
finds the most tragic failures in London.
OF course all who dive into the IN
equaled wealth OF our national collection
are not among those who have missed
their aim in life. The busy young Journal
ist, the aspiring actor at the outset OF his
career. the prosperous bookmen. may all
be found there. Yet the failures
many that somehow they have set their
stamp on the whole.
Smart dresses are few. Many OF the
women folk are arrayed in costumes that
call back memories OF the artistic crazes
OF a generation since. A goodly proportion
OF the men are plainly among the might
have beens."
The drowsy copyist and the. eager
ghost" the 'jackal" and the patient
searcher are familiar figures. The lit
erary drudges who exc out scanty living
by looking up references. by writing odd
paragrap hs, and doing the hack work OF
busy profession. here sink gradually
the downward slope amidst the pleasant
eompanionship OF multudnous books. or
good education, and possessing qualifca-
lions that are undeniable. they seem born
10 illustrate the truism that some are made
tor success and that the lot OF others
must OF necessity be failure.
Age haunts the room. Even the most
casual reader cannot have failed 10 notice
certain familiar white-haired fgures. which
are ever 10 be seen I'm the same places
OF those Of to-day IL would be in fitting
10 speak. Their stories. after ALL are but
the same as those OF similar venerable fig
ures OF yesterday, which have dropped out
and are seen no more.
one old gentleman used 10 come day after
day, carefully treasuring an umbrella coeval
with Noah and the food. We look for him
now in vain; One sees no longer the care
i n a. a Mil
him a leather case full OF manuscript. lt
matters not where he went that case never
| LETT his hands. even II he only moved few
| yards from his seat When consulting the
| catalogue or some reference books on the
shelves, the case was Yet with him.
What was in it? Something on which
| life of study had In all probability been
| spent, something of great value TO the
/ owner, but almost certainly worthless 10
any one else. For he was only one OF many
| who year after year, pursue some remote
| study under the dome dreaming OF the time
| 10 come when their study shall be COM
| pleted. and when the people who now pass
| them by shall recall their names with honor
and admiration. Alas. the study seldom is
completed. and often enough. when IL is,
! men think AZ OF no value.
READING-ROOM NUISANCES.
| The reading-room nuisance is a type that
cannot be passed over, the man ever eager
to beg or borrow from the first youngster
he can buttonhole. It seems odd at first TO
| a
authority on, say. Assyrian Inscriptions.
tremblingly hint that you should invite him
| for a glass OF ale and a sandwich One Of
the worst OF these nuisances was an IN
corrigible old beggar student, who was in
the habit OF proffering readers a pinch OF
! snun from neat little box. The unsuspect-
/ ing stranger, enjoying the touch OF old
| world courtesy, would accept ii, whereupon
| the other would say, In an aggrieved tone.
| why. you have emptied my box. am
| hard up; give me a penny 10 renll." The
man was well known 10 the museum au-
| thorities, but was tolerated for q iong
| time. Finally he had to be excluded from
| the room.
Among the lady readers was a young
| woman OF great charm and good education.
| who was said TO possess unusual talent.
| Two passions fought for mastery IN her.
| The one was fondness for literary research.
the other the love OF the open air. Gypsy
| blood ran In her veins, and roofs and walls
seemed 20 stihe her. She would go 10 the
| London atmosphere for the sake OF the
! books she loved. Then the passion 20 be
| out in the open would seize her. and for
| weeks and weeks she would wander about
| streets and lanes till reduced 10 the most
| pitiable condition. she was not given 10
| drink, and was OF irreproachable personal
| character; but her mad restlessness i'm
| PEELED her ever to the vagrant life. Time
| after time her friends rescued her, clad her
| out again and started her afresh; but sooner
| or later the irresistible impulse 10 be away
| under the skies would conquer and she
would vanish. Then she vanished for once
| and all.
TRAGEDIES OF LITERATURE.
Top rooms in Bloomsbury and Drury lano
attics, in Camden-town and Kentish-towu.
could tell tragic stories. could they but
speak. Of the shabby women searchers who
day by day come here soon after the stroke
of and stay till evening. hunting out facts
and figures for others. Happy are they
| when they have the work 10 keep them
busy. More often with most Of them work
is scanty and food is horribly short; They
| are educated women all. most OF them OF
| good family. Alone through death or mis-
| fortune, their lives represent the acme or
| enduring misery.
| most as badly of as the women. An I'D
| vertisement appeared not Ions ago IN
literary paper Offering the services OF
| double first class, hOnorous university
| man for eight hours a day museum re-
search for 81 a week. Too often these
! men searchers have been brought there
| through drink. There Is one well-known
| public house not far from the museum
| gates where men who might have nodded
the destiny Of our nation, once famous
! dons and university scholars. men who
| once promised TO be the light OF the bar,
| the church. and the medical schools, fore
gather in their shabby gentiiity 10 drink.
| and to drown thought In this world OF
dead hopes.
| the British Museum redUlnK TOOTH II "A
| favorite center OF foreign political refu-
! gees. Anarchists whose names are feared
| in the police sections OF half dozen coun-
| tries may be seen there day after day
| patiently working at their political studies
| Frequently the first intimati0n our police
| have OF the arrival OF notorious Anarchists
| in this country Is by seeing them enter the
| museum They are quietly followed, ana
| their addresses secured in this way, after
| which they are placed under surveillance.
A REFUGE FOR THE DESTITUTE.
Some Americans use the reading room.
| haunting the quarter where books on her
aldry and genealogy are kept. eager TO
| trace their descent on most fanciful
| grounds from some noble name. There are
| others again with fancy claims 10 great
! estates, who come there day by day. ana
| week after week going on sometimes 10
| year after year. seeking by the widest
| research amongst musty tones 10 discover
| the lost steps in the ladder OF their descent
| from royal or great houses
| The museum authorities themselves ex-
| ercfse remarkable forbearance and kind
| ness 10 these waits and strays. He must
| be a very exacting man who can Overstep
| the limits Of their courteous helpfuiness.
| But even they have been obliged I'm recent
| years TO prevent the museum reading room
| being used as a place OF refuge Tor the
| destitute Some years ago this got 10 the
| point OF scandal, and one witness before
the royal commission that inquired into
HM.