"I went into a big book store once," said a man, "to buy a book of which the sale must be very limited. In fact, I had some doubt as to whether I should find it. Have you got so-and-so?' I asked a clerk. He walked off down the store half or three-quarters of a mile and turned through an opening between two counters. The wall the length of the store was lined with shelves of books clear to the ceiling. He shifted a stepladder that stood against the shelves near where he turned in along a foot or two, walked up to the top of it, reached out to one side and took down a book. It was the book I wanted. They had it, and seldom called for as it was he knew exactly whore it was among those many thousands of books. Of course it was his business to know, and I suppose there must be some perfectly simple way of affixing the knowledge in the mind, but to me it seemed quite a feat." — New York Sun.
Adams and Jackson
John Quincy Adams was cold, reserved and a purist of the purists. When he and Andrew Jackson met at a levee in Washington after their memorable contest for the presidency, the crowd, seeing the two men approach, fell back in mute expectancy. It was possible that there might be a scene. But the defeated Jackson, with fine urbanity and manner, addressed the president elect in most cordial terms, and the victorious Adams, failing to respond to the proffered olive branch, gave expression to his preconceptions with formal iciness. — Noah Brooks in Scribner's.
Monday, July 14, 2008