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Updated: October 25, 2025
Boyish boastfulness which is at the same time coarse and clumsy.... "If we are not as talented as you, Monsieur Zola, to make up for it we believe in God." ... July 29. Well, thank God! To-day I have received from the bookshop notice that there is 690 roubles 6 kopecks coming to me.
Bennoch, however, called at a bookshop on the other side of the street, near the gateway of the castle; and making friends, as he has a marvellous tact in doing, with the bookseller, the latter offered to take in his card to the housekeeper, and see if Lady Webster would not relax her rule in our favor.
Then she wondered again whether he enjoyed the bookshop, whether he enjoyed making catalogues raisonnés, whether he enjoyed himself generally, and she hoped that at any rate he would enjoy his Easter Sunday. Poor little man. Lucia was so happy herself that she wanted Mr. Rickman to be happy too. Mr. Rickman was anything but happy as he set out for his walk that glorious April morning.
He stood with his legs apart facing her and told her: "I've come to say good-bye." "Good-bye?" "Yes I'm going to-night. What I've been expecting for so long has happened at last. There's been a blow up at the bookshop and I've got to go." For an instant the colour left her face; her book fell to the ground and she put her hand back on the arm of the chair to steady herself.
She read it glibly as she had written it. The formula had been a favourite one of her late father, when roused to fall upon offending patrons of the bookshop. The old man beamed. His resentment was gone. He was soothed and happy. 'That'll wake 'em up, he said. 'I won't have these goings on while I'm king, and if they don't like it, they know what to do. You're a good girl, Katie. He chuckled.
Shall I ever forget that rainy day in Lyons, that dingy bookshop, where I found the Aetius, long missing from my Artis bledicae Principes, and where I bought for a small pecuniary consideration, though it was marked rare, and was really tres rare, the Aphorisms of Hippocrates, edited by and with a preface from the hand of Francis Rabelais?
And now in this day's dreariness, he had not one left unread, and was too lazy or effeminate or prudent to encounter the wind and rain that beset the path betwixt him and the nearest bookshop. None of his father's books had any attraction for him. Neither science, philosophy, history, nor poetry held for him any interest.
I had long coveted in the bookshop window a volume in which the poetical works of Ben Jonson and Christopher Marlowe were said to be combined. This I bought at length, and I carried it with me to devour as I trod the desolate road that brought me along the edge of the cliff on Saturday afternoons.
This pleased her she broke into young, contagious laughter, in which Merlin found himself presently joining. "It stayed up!" she cried merrily. "It stayed up, didn't it?" To both of them this seemed the height of brilliant absurdity. Their laughter mingled, filled the bookshop, and Merlin was glad to find that her voice was rich and full of sorcery.
No educational or evangelical work had ever been attempted previous to that time, but the men and women who came were wise, tactful and industrious, and the result may be seen in a dozen or more schools, with several thousand pupils, a flourishing, self-supporting church, a medical mission, a deaconesses' home and training school, a printing establishment and bookshop which is self-supporting and a large number of earnest, intelligent converts.
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