Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1929-09-09
THIS AND THAT
BY CHARLES E. TRAcEWELL.

| children had gathered in the daring
batIlinR suits Of that day. (What
daring" means changes from decade
to decade. The women wore stock
ines then-and they were daring)
The book stalls seemed 50 deserted
that we feel 1t q duty to inspect them.
somehow or other, the tang Of the
ocean breeze, filled with the indescrib-
able fragrance of salt, spoke up appeal
ingly for books. Most sailors are great
readers. We once knew a jolly tar who
read some author through every trip.
tune Of Victor Hugo. Charles Dickens,
Honore Balzac. He took q fresh set
with him every voyage. A trip meant
not only new lands In actually, but new
lands In dreams. He explored the no.
rizons of the spirit.
In q happy frame of mind we ap-
preached the deserted stalls Of the old
bookseller. Like the ogre be was, he
was completely inside his den. lurking
for customers to drive away. knowing
nothing Of hts habits, We were bltssfully
unaware Of anything except books and
salt air.
There were a few old magazines.
These we examined carelessly, wishing
to prolong the pleasure OF meeting old
friends on the boardwalk. Slowly we
turned to the books. These comprised
such volumes as one expects to see on
street stalls. There were many old
things that people never wanted, else
they would never have been there.
There was one emi-philosophicai
work, however, which we had heard
Of: we have forgotten its name and
author, they make no difference at
this late date. Picking up the book, we
opened the covers carefully, as is our
habit not wishing to break the back
bone Of the volume or to bend the pages
Particularly do we detest the invariable
habit of many careless persons of max
ing left-thumbnail marks on the first
dozen pages. Some people are unable
TO open q book without doing this. 1t is
an obnoxious habit, however, proving
especially rough on title pages. A title
page ought to be fair ana unmarried.
We would not have blamed the old
fellow In the least II we had been
illuminating his books. But We had
been very careful not to. No one could
have held them more carefully. This
did not serve us In the least, though,
for lust at we had made up our mind
to purchase the book, out he came
roaring, fame in his eye, thunder in
his voice
put that book down." he screamed.
why, I want to buy It,"
PUT that book down, I tell you'll"
And, suiting the action to the word, lie
seized the book from our bewildered
hands. and thrust 1t back into It's place.
Don't you want b sell your books?"
we ventured. feeling very badly used.
That's none of your businessl" he
shouted, grinding his strong yellow
teeth.
It thought you were bookseller. not
a bookhoarder." We couldn't resist say
ing it.
dot is none Of your business. say!"
he belched. threatening us with per-
sonal violence.
BY this time the humor had gone
out of the situation. We found We had
no desire to buy q book, thank you
Buying books ought to be a pleasant
duty, not a quarrelsome fisticuffs.
We left the old fellow glowering in
the door of his den, zealously guarding
his books from possible customers
Did he love them so well that he would
not sell them? We have often won
dered.