h these words he left the place, and I stepped forward to claim a
volume which had attracted my favorable attention several days previous.

"I beg your pardon, sir," said the bookseller, politely, "but that book
is sold."

"Sold?" I cried.

"Yes, sir," replied the bookseller, smiling with evident pride; "Mr.
Gladstone just bought it; I haven't a book for sale--Mr. Gladstone just
bought them ALL!"

The bookseller then proceeded to tell me that whenever Gladstone
entered a bookshop he made a practice of buying everything in sight.
That magnificent, sweeping gesture of his comprehended
everything--theology, history, social science, folk-lore, medicine,
travel, biography--everything that came to his net was fish!

"This is the third time Mr. Gladstone has visited me," said the
bookseller, "and this is the third time he has cleaned me out."

"This man is a good man," says I to myself. "So notable a lover of
books surely cannot err. The cause of home rule must be a just one
after all."

From others intimately acquainted with him I learned that Gladstone was
an omnivorous reader; that he ordered his books by the cart-load, and
that his home in Hawarden literally overflowed with books. He made a
practice, I was told, of overhauling his library once in so often and
of weeding out such volumes as he did not care to keep. These
discarded books were sent to the second-hand dealers, and it is said
that the dealers not unfrequently took advantage of Gladstone by
reselling him over and over again (and at advanced prices, too) the
very lots of books he had culled out and rejected.

Every book-lover has his own way of buying; so there are as many ways
of buying as there are purchasers. However, Judge Methuen and I have
agreed that all buyers may be classed in these following specified
grand divisions:

The reckless buyer.

The shrewd buyer.

The timid buyer.

Of these three classes the third is least worthy of our consideration,
although it includes very many lovers of books, and consequently very
many friends of mine. I have actually known men to hesitate, to
ponder, to dodder for weeks, nay, months over the purchase of a book;
not because they did not want it, nor because they deemed the price
exorbitant, nor yet because they were not abundantly able to pay that
price. Their hesitancy was due to an innate, congenital lack of
determination--that same hideous curse of vacillation which is
responsible