Things Lost Are Not Often What They Seem, Or, How I Found Dr. Johnson's Dictionary, Not Where I Thought It Was Hid.

I have found it--and we shall see if the finding augments, or rather detracts, from this Blog. A series on musings (for sometimes I find that finding an antiquated or strange word, and musing upon it, helps to inspire a story) is forthcoming, of which this is the first.

But I must explain.

Not, under the bed was it--not in the eternal abyss of darkness and despair, where souls of library books in torment await their accumulating fine--not in that black hole betwixt my bed's four feet, and the dusty floor--but in a pile of books by my door. Yesterday, searching for something else (and isn't that always the way) I found it, by chance, spilled to the ground as my hand knocked it out of place.

So here it is.

I will start with By-coffeehouse, a happy thought today.



By-coffeehouse. n.s. A coffeehouse in an obscure place.

Phyllis reached out her hand, searching through her laboured breath for an alleyway to dart into, a cubbyhole in which to evade her pursuers. She heard them, hot upon her heels--faster, she turned, not caring where she went, her frenzied lips forming the anguished words: 'O, if only there had been a by-coffeehouse!'

By-the-by, I must give heartfelt thanks to Liam's Pictures from Old Books for the images found here. http://www.fromoldbooks.org