gentleman orders two sets of the
Prayer Book and Hymnal, to be marked upon the cover with his name, the
words Grace Church and his pew number. He informs us that every year
while he is away in the summer his set of these books is stolen.

'Tis a merry life, the book clerk's, and a hard one. Customers: Two
youngish women. "Can you wait on us?" They want to get something, do
not know just what, for a present. "Oh, no!" they say, "we don't want
anything like so big a set as that. Something nicely bound." A copy
of "Cranford" is near by. "Oh, when I read it I didn't think it much
good." "Poetry?" "No, I don't think she is much interested in poetry."
"Do you suppose an art book?"------"No, she is not interested in art."
"Memoirs, then?" "No, she would not care for that." "Why, I had no
idea," said one somewhat reprovingly to us, "that it would be as hard
as this."

A calling which requires the practitioner to turn easily from the
recondite gentleman inquiring the author of "Religious Teachers of
Ancient Greece" to consideration of the problem (no less recondite) of
a lady anxious to find something to entertain a child of five and a
half inculcates some degree of mental agility. "I want," said the very
fashionable lady, "to get a book for an old man--a" (with some
petulance) "very stupid old man." "I want," from a serious old lady,
"to get a book for a young man studying for the ministry." "I want,"
exclaimed a very smart apparition, "a dashing book for a man!" "What
is the best book on Russia?" "Do you know, now, if this is a good
story?--there are so many poor books nowadays." Says a large,
uncommonly black lady, "I want 'Spears of Wheat, No. 3.'" (Discovered
to be a prayer book.) "I want the latest book, please, on how to bring
up a baby." "I'd like to see what you have on 'physical research.'"
"Can you recommend a book for a young man with softening of the brain?
Poor fellow, he's in Bloomingdale." "Is there any discount to
Christian workers?" "Do you know," a demure person, an awful blank
look coming over her face, "what I want has gone quite out of my head."
There is an appealing look for help. "Something American," in a
patrician voice, "for the ladies to read going over on the boat. This
is American, now, is it? New York society? Ah, very good! Have you
anything about the Rocky Mountains, or that sort of thing?"

Now we see coming the man who has been directed in a letter from his
wife to