Now we know why Time flies.
THE TWOPENNY BIN.
It was called Greatheart; or, Samuel's Sentimental Side; and I think you will agree that it was a lot of title for twopence. Day after day, as I fumbled among the old books in the Twopenny Bin of the little secondhand bookseller's shop, that volume would wriggle itself forward and worm its way into my hands; and I would clench my teeth and thrust it to the remotest depths of the box.
Then it haunted me. All day in my room I could hear Greatheart; or, Samuel's Sentimental Side calling out to me, "How would you like to be in the Twopenny Bin?"
I began to grow sentimental myself, and to handle those unconsidered trifles with tenderness. For you never know; I might be in the Twopenny Bin myself someday; might be picked up, just glanced at and shifted back into the corner out of sight.
Yesterday Greatheart again found himself in my hands, and I looked to see the date of his entry upon the world. I reflected on his sixty years of life, on the many happy fireside hours that had been spent in his company, on the gentle solace he had furnished to lesser hearts.
I had decided what to do. There were few people about; the bookseller was not looking, and, if offence it was, well, I could fall back on the mercy of those who would judge.