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which I had undertaken； the compiling of the Newgate lives； I had
also made some progress in translating the publisher's philosophy
into German。 But about this time I began to see very clearly that
it was impossible that our connection should prove of long
duration； yet； in the event of my leaving the big man； what other
resource had I … another publisher？ But what had I to offer？
There were my ballads； my Ab Gwilym； but then I thought of Taggart
and his snuff； his pinch of snuff。 However； I determined to see
what could be done； so I took my ballads under my arm； and went to
various publishers； some took snuff； others did not； but none took
my ballads or Ab Gwilym； they would not even look at them。 One
asked me if I had anything else … he was a snuff…taker … I said
yes； and going home； returned with my translation of the German
novel； to which I have before alluded。 After keeping it for a
fortnight； he returned it to me on my visiting him； and； taking a
pinch of snuff； told me it would not do。 There were marks of snuff
on the outside of the manuscript； which was a roll of paper bound
with red tape； but there were no marks of snuff on the interior of
the manuscript； from which I concluded that he had never opened it。
I had often heard of one Glorious John； who lived at the western
end of the town； on consulting Taggart； he told me that it was
possible that Glorious John would publish my ballads and Ab Gwilym；
that is； said he； taking a pinch of snuff； provided you can see
him； so I went to the house where Glorious John resided； and a
glorious house it was； but I could not see Glorious John … I called
a dozen times； but I never could see Glorious John。 Twenty years
after； by the greatest chance in the world； I saw Glorious John；
and sure enough Glorious John published my books； but they were
different books from the first； I never offered my ballads or Ab
Gwilym to Glorious John。 Glorious John was no snuff…taker。 He
asked me to dinner； and treated me with superb Rhenish wine。
Glorious John is now gone to his rest； but I … what was I going to
say？ … the world will never forget Glorious John。
So I returned to my last resource for the time then being … to the
publisher； persevering doggedly in my labour。 One day； on visiting
the publisher； I found him stamping with fury upon certain
fragments of paper。 'Sir；' said he； 'you know nothing of German； I
have shown your translation of the first chapter of my Philosophy
to several Germans： it is utterly unintelligible to them。' 'Did
they see the Philosophy？' I replied。 'They did； sir； but they did
not profess to understand English。' 'No more do I；' I replied；
'if that Philosophy be English。'
The publisher was furious … I was silent。 For 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 things which give them pleasure when they are in
health。' I learned； moreover； that she slept little at night； and
had all kinds of strange thoughts； that as she lay awake many
things connected with her youth； which she had quite forgotten；
came into her mind。 There were certain words that came into her
mind the night before the last； which were continually humming in
her ears： I found that the words were； 'Thou shalt not steal。'
On inquiring where she had first heard these words； I learned that
she had read them at school； in a book called the primer； to this
school she had been sent by her mother； who was a poor widow； and
followed the trade of apple…selling in the very spot where her
daughter followed it now。 It seems that the mother was a very good
kind of woman； but quite ignorant of letters； the benefit of which
she was willing to procure for her child； and at the school the
daughter learned to read； and subsequently experienced the pleasure
and benefit of letters； in being able to read the book which she
found in an obscure closet of her mother's house； and which had
been her principal companion and comfort for many years of her
life。
But； as I have said before； she was now dissatisfied with the book；
and with most other things in which she had taken pleasure； she
dwelt much on the words； 'Thou shalt not steal'； she had never
stolen things herself； but then she had bought things which other
people had stolen； and which she knew had been stolen； and her dear
son had been a thief； which he perhaps would not have been but for
the example which she set him in buying things from characters； as
she called them； who associated with her。
On inquiring how she had become acquainted with these characters； I
learned that times had gone hard with her； that she had married；
but her husband had died after a long sickness； which had reduced
them to great distress； that her fruit trade was not a profitable
one； and that she had bought and sold things which had been stolen
to support herself and her son。 That for a long time she supposed
there was no harm in doing so； as her book was full of entertaining
tales of stealing； but she now thought that the book was a bad
book； and that learning to read was a bad thing； her mother had
never been able to read； but had died in peace； though poor。
So here was a woman who attributed the vices and follies of her
life to being able to read； her mother； she said； who could not
read； lived respectably； and died in peace； and what was the
essential difference between the mother and daughter； save that the
latter could read？ But for her literature she might in all
probability have lived respectably and honestly； like her mother；
and might eventually have died in peace； which at present she could
scarcely hope to do。 Education had failed to produce any good in
this poor woman； on the contrary； there could be little doubt that
she had been injured by it。 Then was education a bad thing？
Rousseau was of opinion that it was； but Rousseau was a Frenchman；
at least wrote in French； and I cared not the snap of my fingers
for Rousseau。 But education has certainly been of benefit in some
instances； well； what did that prove； but that partiality existed
in the management of the affairs of the world … if education was a
benefit to some； why was it not a benefit to others？ Could some
avoid abusing it； any more than others could avoid turning it to a
profitable account？ I did not see how they could； this poor simple
woman found a b