y, always supposing that there is such a thing
as morality, which is the same thing as supposing that there is anything
at all."

"Anything at all! Why, a'n't we here on this bridge, in my booth, with
my stall and my--"

"Apples and pears, baked hot, you would say--I don't know; all is a
mystery, a deep question. It is a question, and probably always will be,
whether there is a world, and consequently apples and pears; and,
provided there be a world, whether that world be like an apple or a
pear."

"Don't talk so, dear."

"I won't; we will suppose that we all exist--world, ourselves, apples,
and pears: so you wish to get rid of the book?"

"Yes, dear, I wish you would take it."

"I have read it, and have no farther use for it; I do not need books: in
a little time, perhaps, I shall not have a place wherein to deposit
myself, far less books."

"Then I will fling it into the river."

"Don't do that; here, give it me. Now what shall I do with it? you were
so fond of it."

"I am so no longer."

"But how will you pass your time; what will you read?"

"I wish I had never learned to read, or, if I had, that I had only read
the books I saw at school: the primer or the other."

"What was the other?"

"I think they called it the Bible: all about God, and Job, and Jesus."

"Ah, I know it."

"You have read it; it is a nice book--all true?"

"True, true--I don't know what to say; but if the world be true, and not
a lie, a fiction, I don't see why the Bible, as they call it, should not
be true. By-the-bye, what do you call Bible in your tongue, or, indeed,
book of any kind? as Bible merely means a book."

"What do I call the Bible in my language, dear?"

"Yes, the language of those who bring you things."

"The language of those who _did_, dear; they bring them now no longer.
They call me a fool, as you did, dear, just now; they call kissing the
Bible, which means taking a false oath, smacking calf-skin."

"That's metaphor," said I, "English, but metaphorical; what an odd
language! So you would like to have a Bible,--shall I buy you one?"

"I am poor, dear--no money since I left off the other trade."

"Well, then, I'll buy you one."

"No, dear, no; you are poor, and may soon want the money; but if you can
take me one conveniently on the sly, you know--I think you may, for, as
it is a good book, I suppose there can be no harm in taking it."

"That will never do," said I, "more especially as I should