ue," said I; "you are the man who attempted to cheat me of
one-and-ninepence in the coach-yard, on the first morning of my arrival
in London."

"I don't doubt it," said the other; "a confirmed thief;" and here his
tones became peculiarly sharp; "I would fain see him hanged--crucified.
Drag him along."

"I am no constable," said I; "you have got your pocket-book,--I would
rather you would bid me let him go."

"Bid you let him go!" said the other almost furiously; "I command--stay,
what was I going to say? I was forgetting myself," he observed more
gently; "but he stole my pocket-book;--if you did but know what it
contained."

"Well," said I, "if it contains anything valuable, be the more thankful
that you have recovered it; as for the man, I will help you to take him
where you please; but I wish you would let him go."

The stranger hesitated, and there was an extraordinary play of emotion in
his features: he looked ferociously at the pickpocket, and, more than
once, somewhat suspiciously at myself; at last his countenance cleared,
and, with a good grace, he said, "Well, you have done me a great service,
and you have my consent to let him go; but the rascal shall not escape
with impunity," he exclaimed suddenly, as I let the man go, and starting
forward, before the fellow could escape, he struck him a violent blow on
the face. The man staggered, and had nearly fallen; recovering himself,
however, he said, "I tell you what, my fellow, if I ever meet you in this
street in a dark night, and I have a knife about me, it shall be the
worse for you; as for you, young man," said he to me; but, observing that
the other was making towards him, he left whatever he was about to say
unfinished, and, taking to his heels, was out of sight in a moment.

The stranger and myself walked in the direction of Cheapside, the way in
which he had been originally proceeding; he was silent for a few moments,
at length he said, "You have really done me a great service, and I should
be ungrateful not to acknowledge it. I am a merchant; and a merchant's
pocket-book, as you perhaps know, contains many things of importance;
but, young man," he exclaimed, "I think I have seen you before; I thought
so at first, but where I cannot exactly say: where was it?" I mentioned
London Bridge and the old apple-woman. "Oh," said he, and smiled, and
there was something peculiar in his smile, "I remember now. Do you
frequently sit on London Bridge?" "Occa