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Show FRENCH LITERATURE. - If there ts -ever to be an end of the making mak-ing of books, the beginning of that end should scarcely be looked for tn France. I might have come to this not very sapient conclusion anywhere: it has literally forced Itself upon me of late, as I have wandered from bookshop to bookshop In Brussels and Paris, often not . crossing their thresholds, but invariably reading and sometimes making mak-ing a note of the numerous titles standing out from the red, the brown, the green, the blue, and above all, tba yellow covers. I knew I could not afford to buy one copy out of every hundred I saw, and I knew further that I should hardly care to read the tenth part of what I could afford to buy: Nevertheless, while I gazed at those neat rows of volumes, I -had a sense-of large possessions and of protracted pleasure. I trust it Is not unpatriotic to say - that I do not have these sensation ' when I see huge piles of new books on the counters of our department, stores. .Paris surely has enough of those monstrous establishments; but -It still baa many bookshops, both large and tiny, and Its stalls along tha quays, though declined from their best estate, have not disappeared. May books in this beautiful beauti-ful city never come to be ranked with shoes as mere articles of merchandise, even though the present discussion of "le repos bebdo-madaire" bebdo-madaire" should, end by spreading the gloom of a London Sunday over both banka of the 8elne. W. P. Trent In the Forum.'. |