We shall detail one case which occurred this morning.  It happened that an amiable and distinguished literary gentleman, an LL.D., and a barrister, had lost from his library a book on which he placed great value, and he found this book on a stall not very far from the office.  On seeing the volume he naturally claimed it, and the woman who had received it from the thief, who was a servant, refused to give it up, unless the money she had paid for it were returned to her.  Neither would the wretch disclose the name of the thief, but snapped her fingers in Dr. A——­’s face, saying she defied him, and that he could only bring her before Mr. Coke, who, she knew very well, would see justice done her.  She lived by buying books, she said, and by selling books; and as he lived by writing books, she thought it wasn’t handsome of him to insult the profession by bringing such a blackguard charge against them in her name.

He summoned her, however, and the case was one of the first called on the morning in question.  The receiver of the stolen book came forward, with much assurance, as defendant, and modest Dr. A——­ as plaintiff; when Sir Spigot, putting his glass to his eye, and looking from the one to the other with his wink and grin as usual, said to Darby: 

“What is this man here for?”

“It’s a law case, your worship,” replied the senior officer.

Coke, who sat solemn and silent, looked at the doctor, and said: 

“Well, sir, what is your case?  Please to state it.”

The case, being a very plain and brief one, was soon stated, the woman’s reply was then heard, after which Mr. Coke looked graver than before, and proceeded somewhat to the following effect: 

“This is a case of deep interest to that important portion of the bibiliopolist profession who vend their wares on stalls.”

“Thank your worship,” said the woman, with a courtesy.

“This most respectable body of persons, the booksellers—­[another courtesy from the woman]—­are divided into several classes; first, those who sell books in large and splendid shops; next, those who sell them in shops of less pretension; thirdly, those who sell them on stalls in thoroughfares, and at the corners of streets; fourthly, those who carry them in baskets, and who pass from place to place, and combine with the book-selling business that of flying stationer; and fifthly, those who do not sell them at all, but only read them; and as those who read, unless they steal or borrow, must purchase, I accordingly class them as booksellers indirectly, inasmuch as if they don’t sell books themselves, they cause others to do so.  For this reason it is evident that every man living, and woman too, capable of reading a book, is a bookseller; so that society at large is nothing but one great bookselling firm.