d until he had recorded his sentiments in black
and white for the inspection of his neighbours. His own success in
life, 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 visiter 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
entrenchments, 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 at 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 hosp