cents); but I had no
use for it, and did not like to carry it to my hotel. The worst of it
was, the old woman thought the price was the only obstacle, and
finally came down to a mark and a half. What was to be done? From
Billingsgate to Stockholm, it is notorious that a disappointed
fishwoman is a very dangerous and uncertain foe to be encountered by
any man, however brave. She began to get excited at the bare prospect
of having taken so much trouble for nothing. Several of her friends
began to gather round. A cold tremor ran through my frame. There
seemed to be no possible way of evading the purchase without creating
an unpleasant scene. To make an end of it, I bought the fish. With a
bunch of grass wrapped around its tail, I made my way through the
crowd. To be sure, I felt a little ashamed to be perambulating the
streets of a strange city with a big fish in my hand, yet I could not
well throw it down on the sidewalk, and was afraid, if I offered it to
some little boy, he might stick his tongue in his cheek, and ask me if
I saw any thing green in the corner of his eye. The case was getting
worse and worse every moment. People stopped and looked at me as I
passed. My arm was getting tired. Fortunately, I was close to the
quay. A happy thought struck me; I walked over to the water's edge and
cast the fish into his native element. "Go," said I, in the language
of my uncle Toby; "there's room enough in the world for you and me."
What the by-standers thought of the act I did not wait to see. It was
enough that I was clear of a very unpleasant companion, though an
ancient and fish-like odor remained with me for some time after. As
for the fish, I doubt if he ever came to life; he must have been dead
for several days when I bought him, judging by a taint upon my hands,
which the best soap could not eradicate.

After this I rambled gloomily along the quays, and wondered what every
body was waiting for. There were small vessels enough lying at the
wharves, but every body on board seemed to be taking it easy. Cooks
were lying asleep on the galleys; skippers were sitting on the poop,
smoking socially with their crews; small boys, with red night-caps on
their heads, were stretched out upon the hatchways, playing push-pin,
and eating crusts of black bread; stevedores, with dusty sacks on
their shoulders, were lounging about on the wharf, waiting for
something in the way of trade to turn up; shabby citizens, who seemed
to be out o