on. It is
reserved for Lord Spencer's library;[128] at a price which, freight and
duty included, cannot reach the sum of twelve shillings of our money. Of
venders of second hand and old books, the elder and younger MANOURY take a
decisive lead. The former lives in the _Rue Froide_; the latter in the _Rue
Notre Dame._ The father boasts of having upwards of thirty thousand
volumes, but I much doubt whether his stock amount to one half of that
number. He unhesitatingly asked me two _louis d'or_ for a copy of the
_Vaudevires_ of OLIVIER BASSELIN, which is a modern, but privately printed,
volume; and of which I hope to give you some amusing particulars by and by.
He also told me that he had formerly sold a paper copy of _Fust's Bible of
1462,_ with many of the illuminated initials cut out, to the library of the
Arsenal, at Paris, for 100 louis d'or. I only know that, if I had been
librarian, he should not have had one half the money.

Now for Manoury the younger. Old and young are comparative terms: for be it
known that the son is "age de soixante ans." Over his door you read an
ancient inscription, thus:

"_Battu, perce, lie, Je veux changer de main_."

This implies either (like Aladdin's old lamps for new) that he wishes to
give new books in exchange for old ones, or that he can smarten up old ones
by binding, or otherwise, and give them a renovated appearance. But the
solution is immaterial: the inscription being as above. The interior of the
younger Manoury's book repository almost appalled me. His front shop, and a
corridor communicating with the back part of the house, are rank with
moisture; and his books are consequently rotting apace. Upon my making as
pitiable a statement as I was able of this melancholy state of things--and
pleading with all my energies against the inevitable destruction which
threatened the dear books--the obdurate bibliopolist displayed not one
scintillation of sympathy. He was absolutely indifferent to the whole
concern. In the back parlour, almost impervious to day-light, his daughter,
and a stout and handsome bourgeoise, with rather an unusually elevated
cauchoise, were regaling themselves with soup and herbs at dinner. I
hurried through, in my way to the upper regions, with apologies for the
intrusion; but was told that none were necessary--that I might go where,
and stay as long, as I pleased--and that any explanation would be given to
my interrogatories in the way of business. I expre