One of the shop-windows he paused before was that of a second-hand
book-shop, where, on a narrow table outside, the literature of the ages
was represented in judicious mixture, from the immortal verse of Homer
to the mortal prose of the railway novel. That the mixture was judicious
was apparent from Deronda's finding in it something that he
wanted--namely, that wonderful bit of autobiography, the life of the
Polish Jew, Salomon Maimon; which, as he could easily slip it into his
pocket, he took from its place, and entered the shop to pay for,
expecting to see behind the counter a grimy personage showing that
nonchalance about sales which seems to belong universally to the
second-hand book-business. In most other trades you find generous men
who are anxious to sell you their wares for your own welfare; but even a
Jew will not urge Simson's Euclid on you with an affectionate assurance
that you will have pleasure in reading it, and that he wishes he had
twenty more of the article, so much is it in request. One is led to fear
that a second-hand bookseller may belong to that unhappy class of men
who have no belief in the good of what they get their living by, yet
keep conscience enough to be morose rather than unctuous in their
vocation.--G. ELIOT. _Daniel Deronda._