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time. I have in my purse one postage stamp; but that will warrant a visit to Loring's! One must have books as well as bread and cologne. O LORING! what an institution art thou! Name dear to all classes, from Madame ----, who steps from her carriage, to the pretty shop-girl, who always wants Mrs. Southworth's last--and worst--novel. Who, indeed, 'so poor' as not 'to do _him_ reverence,' and find two cents _per_ day, when for that sublimely small sum one can get a companion for any and every mood, 'Grave to gay, from lively to severe?' But will 'LORING'S' be open at this early dawn? 'Open,' indeed! one does not catch _him_ napping; yes, open and so inviting! A literary public garden so fresh and clean, as 'Just washed in a shower.' In the rear, behind the desk, one is always sure of finding at least _two roses_, and _on_ the desk a vase of flowers is certainly to be seen--the offering of some one of the hundreds of admirers who go to Loring's, nominally for some entertaining book--and they always find one! 'What book did you say, miss?' asks Fleur de Marie. ('Where _does_ she get those lilies and roses? I saw none like them in the garden this morning. Ah! many of the dames who enter here from their carriages would also like to ask my question--since they do not seem to find them even at Newport!) 'If you please, _what_ book?' again inquire the Roses. 'Oh!' I answer, 'I was looking, and forgot what I came for; is 'Out of his Head' _in_ yet?' The fair librarian evidently thinks I am out of mine. Ah! would that I were, and out of my whole body; but no! ingrate that I am, to-day I should be content--simply _to be_; even a cabbage ought to be happy in such perfect summer weather. T. B. Aldrich _is_ in--as much as he ever is supposed to be; but I recall now that I read his sketchy book the other night, while I was brushing my hair, giving it a sort of 'good time generally,' letting it run wild a little before going to sleep. I read 'Pierre Antoine's Date Tree' quite through, and liked--the _last part_ very much indeed. There are some people whom I am always very glad to have visit me, because I feel so 'dreadful glad' when they go away. So, also, it compensates one to read certain books for the sake of the delicious sensation one experiences on finishing them! What a pile of '_Les Miserables_,' Fantine? _C'est assez miserable._ The 'Hunchback' is the least deformed of Hugo's offspring; but I read _that_
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