But even with the striking examples of Miss Currer and Mrs. Rylands before us, the conclusion still forces itself upon one that the femme bibliophile is an all but unknown quantity. The New Woman may develop into a genuine book-lover; it is certain that the old one will not. The Chinese article of belief that women have no souls has, after all, something in its favour.
Bookstall-keepers have a deep contempt for women who patronize them by turning over their books without purchasing. It would not be possible to repeat all the hard things they say about the sex. In the words of one: 'They hang around and read the books, and though I have a man to watch them, while he is driving away one another is reading a chapter. They can read a chapter in a minute.' 'Does that not interest them in the book, so that they buy it?' asked an interlocutor. 'No, sir; it don't. It only makes them go to the other stall and read the last chapter there. Not once in a blue moon, sir, does womenfolk buy a book. A penny weekly is what they buy, and before they fix on one they read half a dozen. You take my word for it, sir, it takes a woman half an hour to spend a penny at a bookstall.' A characteristic incident once happened to an old judge's clerk who had a stall a few years ago in Gray's Inn Road. A lady, with whom there were two or three children, after waiting about the pavement, at length suddenly became interested in the humble bookstall. Several pretty picture-books attracted the attention of the children, and they became clamorous to possess them. The stall-keeper, in the politest possible manner, offered the books at her own price. The reply was: 'Oh no, thanks. We are only looking over the books to kill time.' 'Much obliged to you, ma'am, for your kindness and consideration,' was the prompt reply.
BOOK THIEVES, BORROWERS, AND KNOCK-OUTS.
'FACILIS descensus Averni' might well be the motto for any article or chapter dealing with the above comprehensive 'avocations.' Once started on his career, the book-thief may be regarded as entirely lost. At the Middlesex Sessions a few years ago a genius of the name of Terry was sentenced to six years' imprisonment for stealing books. On inquiry it was found that this same person had already been in prison six times, two terms of eighteen months each, one term of five years' penal servitude, and another of seven years, all for stealing books.
Each thief has his own special modus operandi, which he varies according to circumstances. There are those who do it without any adventitious aid, and those who cover their sin with various accessories. First, the ordinary book-thief, who watches his opportunity when the shopkeeper is not looking, and simply slips the book quickly under his coat and departs. This method is plain and simple in execution, but sometimes dangerous in practice. Then there is the man who wears an overcoat, the lining of the pocket of which he has previously removed, so that he can pass his hand right through while apparently only standing still looking on, with his hands quietly in his pocket, possibly with one hand openly touching something, whilst the other is earning his dinner.
