unted Bookshop" which
was never released, though it was written before the book was
published. Can you guess the writer of it? We're not at liberty to
tell, for he would never forgive our mentioning his name.

"THIS SHOP IS HAUNTED!"

Such was the sign that met the eyes of those who entered
_Parnassus at Home_, a very unusual bookshop on Gissing Street,
Brooklyn. Roger Mifflin, the eccentric booklover who owned the
shop, only meant that his shop was haunted by the great spirits
of literature, but there were more substantial ghosts about, as
the story tells. Read the curious adventures that befell after
Titania Chapman came to learn the book business in the mellow
atmosphere of the second-hand bookshop of this novel. There was
mystery connected with the elusive copy of Carlyle's _Oliver
Cromwell_, which kept on disappearing from Roger's shelves.
Some readers may remember that Roger Mifflin was the hero of
Mr. Morley's first novel, _Parnassus on Wheels_, though this is
in no sense a sequel, but an independent story.

_The Haunted Bookshop, $1.75_

SHANDYGAFF

This is the book at the beginning of which its author has placed
this bit of explanation:

_SHANDYGAFF_: a very refreshing drink, being a mixture of
bitter ale or beer and ginger-beer, commonly drunk by the lower
classes of England, and by strolling tinkers, low church
parsons, newspaper men, journalists, and prizefighters....
JOHN MISTLETOE:
_Dictionary of Deplorable Facts_

Published in the war period, "Shandygaff" brought this humorous
letter from J. Edgar Park, of Massachusetts, Presbyterian pastor and
author of "The Disadvantages of Being Good":

"This book of Morley's is absolutely useless--mere rot. It has
already cost me not only its price but also two candles for an
all-night seance and an entire degeneration of my most sad and sober
resolutions. Money I needed for shoes, solemnity I needed for my
reputation--all have gone to the winds in this nightmare of love,
laughter, boyishness, and tobacco-smoke!"

_Shandygaff, $1.75_

PIPEFULS

"These sketches gave me pain to write; they will give the judicious
patron pain to read; therefore we are quits. I think, as I look over
their slattern paragraphs, of that most tragic hour--it falls about
4 P.M. in the office of an evening newspaper--