But what were even gold and silver, precious stones and clockwork, to
the bookshops, whence a pleasant smell of paper freshly pressed came
issuing forth, awakening instant recollections of some new grammar had
at school, long time ago, with 'Master Pinch, Grove House Academy',
inscribed in faultless writing on the fly-leaf! That whiff of russia
leather, too, and all those rows on rows of volumes, neatly ranged
within: what happiness did they suggest! And in the window were the
spick-and-span new works from London, with the title-pages, and
sometimes even the first page of the first chapter, laid wide open:
tempting unwary men to begin to read the book, and then, in the
impossibility of turning over, to rush blindly in, and buy it! Here too
were the dainty frontispiece and trim vignette, pointing like handposts
on the outskirts of great cities, to the rich stock of incident beyond;
and store of books, with many a grave portrait and time-honoured name,
whose matter he knew well, and would have given mines to have, in any
form, upon the narrow shelf beside his bed at Mr. Pecksniff's. What a
heart-breaking shop it was!--C. DICKENS. _Martin Chuzzlewit._