which had been tolerable--thanks to his industry and
integrity--he attributed altogether to his ignorance of those
dangerous arts; and now a cloud swept across his lately beaming face
as he exclaimed: 'What! the good creature is a lover of books? Well,
we must admit that even the best have their failings. No matter. Write
down the name of this odd volume on a slip of paper; and it shall go
hard with me, but I give him that gratification.'

He did actually return the following week with a well-worn volume,
which he presented in triumph to the old invalid. He looked somewhat
surprised as he opened it; but our friend proceeding to explain that
it was at my suggestion he had procured it in place of the lost one,
the old grateful expression at once beamed up in the eyes of No. 12;
and with a voice trembling with emotion, he thanked the hearty giver.

I had my misgivings, however; and the moment our visitor turned his
back, I asked to see the book. My old neighbour reddened, stammered,
and tried to change the conversation; but, forced behind his last
intrenchments, he handed me the little volume. It was an old Royal
Almanac. The bookseller, taking advantage of his customer's ignorance,
had substituted it for the book he had demanded. I burst into an
immoderate fit of laughter; but No. 12 checked me with the only
impatient word I ever heard from his lips: 'Do you wish our friend to
hear you? I would rather never recover the power of this lost arm,
than deprive his kind heart of the pleasure of his gift. And what of
it? Yesterday, I did not care a straw for an almanac; but in a little
time it is perhaps the very book I should have desired. _Every day has
its to-morrow._ Besides, I assure you it is a very improving study:
even already I perceive the names of a crowd of princes never
mentioned in history, and of whom up to this moment I have never heard
any one speak.'

And so the old almanac was carefully preserved beside the volume of
poetry it had been intended to match; and the old invalid never failed
to be seen turning over the leaves whenever our friend happened to
enter the room. As to him, he was quite proud of its success, and
would say to me each time: 'It appears I have made him a famous
present.' And thus the two guileless natures were content.

Towards the close of my sojourn in the hospital, the strength of poor
No. 12 diminished rapidly. At first, he lost the slight powers of
motion he had retained; then his