r want of a pinch of snuff, I
had recourse to something which is no bad substitute for a pinch of
snuff, to those who can't take it, silent contempt; at first it made the
publisher more furious, as perhaps a pinch of snuff would; it, however,
eventually calmed him, and he ordered me back to my occupations, in other
words, the compilation. To be brief, the compilation was completed, I
got paid in the usual manner, and forthwith left him.

He was a clever man, but what a difference in clever men!

CHAPTER XLIV

The old spot--A long history--Thou shalt not steal--No
harm--Education--Necessity--Foam on your lip--Apples and pears--What will
you read?--Metaphor--The fur cap--I don't know him.

It was past midwinter, and I sat on London Bridge, in company with the
old apple-woman: she had just returned to the other side of the bridge,
to her place in the booth where I had originally found her. This she had
done after frequent conversations with me; 'she liked the old place
best,' she said, which she would never have left but for the terror which
she experienced when the boys ran away with her book. So I sat with her
at the old spot, one afternoon past midwinter, reading the book, of which
I had by this time come to the last pages. I had observed that the old
woman for some time past had shown much less anxiety about the book than
she had been in the habit of doing. I was, however, not quite prepared
for her offering to make me a present of it, which she did that
afternoon; when, having finished it, I returned it to her, with many
thanks for the pleasure and instruction I had derived from its perusal.
'You may keep it, dear,' said the old woman, with a sigh; 'you may carry
it to your lodging, and keep it for your own.'

Looking at the old woman with surprise, I exclaimed, 'Is it possible that
you are willing to part with the book which has been your source of
comfort so long?'

Whereupon the old woman entered into a long history, from which I
gathered that the book had become distasteful to her; she hardly ever
opened it of late, she said, or if she did, it was only to shut it again;
also, that other things which she had been fond of, though of a widely
different kind, were now distasteful to her. Porter and beef-steaks were
no longer grateful to her palate, her present diet chiefly consisting of
tea, and bread and butter.

'Ah,' said I, 'you have been ill, and when people are ill, they seldom
like the thi