At the door of the house were two or three tumbrils, in the act of being loaded with chests, very much resembling tea-chests; one of the chests falling down, burst, and out flew, not tea, but various books, in a neat, small size, and in neat leather covers; Bibles, said I,—Bibles, doubtless. I was not quite right, nor quite wrong; picking up one of the books, I looked at it for a moment, and found it to be the New Testament. “Come, young lad,” said a man who stood by, in the dress of a porter, “put that book down, it is none of yours; if you want a book, go in and deal for one.”
Deal, thought I, deal,—the man seems to know what I am coming about,—and going in, I presently found myself in a very large room. Behind a counter two men stood with their backs to a splendid fire, warming themselves, for the weather was cold.
Of these men one was dressed in brown, and the other was dressed in black; both were tall men—he who was dressed in brown was thin, and had a
particularly ill-natured countenance; the man dressed in black was bulky, his features were noble, but they were those of a lion.
“What is your business, young man?” said the precise personage, as I stood staring at him and his companion.
“I want a Bible,” said I.
“What price, what size?” said the precise-looking man.
“As to size,” said I, “I should like to have a large one—that is, if you can afford me one—I do not come to buy.”
“Oh, friend,” said the precise-looking man, “if you come here expecting to have a Bible for nothing, you are mistaken—we—”
“I would scorn to have a Bible for nothing,” said I, “or anything else; I came not to beg, but to barter; there is no shame in that, especially in a country like this, where all folks barter.”