SO　I　went　to　London　Bridge；　and　again　took　my　station　on　the　spot
  by　the　booth　where　I　had　stood　on　the　former　occasion。　　The　booth；
  however；　was　empty；　neither　the　apple…woman　nor　her　stall　was　to　be
  seen。　　I　looked　over　the　balustrade　upon　the　river；　the　tide　was
  now；　as　before；　rolling　beneath　the　arch　with　frightful
  impetuosity。　　As　I　gazed　upon　the　eddies　of　the　whirlpool；　I
  thought　within　myself　how　soon　human　life　would　become　extinct
  there；　a　plunge；　a　convulsive　flounder；　and　all　would　be　over。
  When　I　last　stood　over　that　abyss　I　had　felt　a　kind　of　impulse　…　a
  fascination；　I　had　resisted　it　…　I　did　not　plunge　into　it。　　At
  present　I　felt　a　kind　of　impulse　to　plunge；　but　the　impulse　was　of
  a　different　kind；　it　proceeded　from　a　loathing　of　life；　I　looked
  wistfully　at　the　eddies　…　what　had　I　to　live　for？　…　what；　indeed！
  I　thought　of　Brandt　and　Struensee；　and　Yeoman　Patch　…　should　I
  yield　to　the　impulse　…　why　not？　　My　eyes　were　fixed　on　the　eddies。
  All　of　a　sudden　I　shuddered；　I　thought　I　saw　heads　in　the　pool；
  human　bodies　wallowing　confusedly；　eyes　turned　up　to　heaven　with
  hopeless　horror；　was　that　water　or　…　？　　Where　was　the　impulse　now？
  I　raised　my　eyes　from　the　pool；　I　looked　no　more　upon　it　…　I　looked
  forward；　far　down　the　stream　in　the　far　distance。　　'Ha！　what　is
  that？　　I　thought　I　saw　a　kind　of　Fata　Morgana；　green　meadows；
  waving　groves；　a　rustic　home；　but　in　the　far　distance　…　I　stared　…
  I　stared　…　a　Fata　Morgana　…　it　was　gone。　。　。　。〃
  I　left　the　balustrade　and　walked　to　the　farther　end　of　the　bridge；
  where　I　stood　for　some　time　contemplating　the　crowd；　I　then　passed
  over　to　the　other　side　with　an　intention　of　returning　home；　just
  half…way　over　the　bridge；　in　a　booth　immediately　opposite　to　the
  one　in　which　I　had　formerly　beheld　her；　sat　my　friend；　the　old
  apple…woman；　huddled　up　behind　her　stall。
  'Well；　mother；'　said　I；　'how　are　you？'　　The　old　woman　lifted　her
  head　with　a　startled　look。
  'Don't　you　know　me？'　said　I。
  'Yes；　I　think　I　do。　　Ah；　yes；'　said　she；　as　her　features　beamed
  with　recollection；　'I　know　you；　dear；　you　are　the　young　lad　that
  gave　me　the　tanner。　　Well；　child；　got　anything　to　sell？'
  'Nothing　at　all；'　said　I。
  'Bad　luck？'
  'Yes；'　said　I；　'bad　enough；　and　ill　usage。'
  'Ah；　I　suppose　they　caught　ye；　well；　child；　never　mind；　better　luck
  next　time；　I　am　glad　to　see　you。'
  'Thank　you；'　said　I；　sitting　down　on　the　stone　bench；　'I　thought
  you　had　left　the　bridge　…　why　have　you　changed　your　side？'
  The　old　woman　shook。
  'What　is　the　matter　with　you；'　said　I；　'are　you　ill？'
  'No；　child；　no；　only　…　'
  'Only　what？　　Any　bad　news　of　your　son？'
  'No；　child；　no；　nothing　about　my　son。　　Only　low；　child　…　every
  heart　has　its　bitters。'
  'That's　true；'　said　I；　'well；　I　don't　want　to　know　your　sorrows；
  come；　where's　the　book？'
  The　apple…woman　shook　more　violently　than　before；　bent　herself
  down；　and　drew　her　cloak　more　closely　about　her　than　before。
  'Book；　child；　what　book？'
  'Why；　blessed　Mary；　to　be　sure。'
  'Oh；　that；　I　ha'n't　got　it；　child　…　I　have　lost　it；　have　left　it　at
  home。'
  'Lost　it；'　said　I；　'left　it　at　home　…　what　do　you　mean？　　Come；　let
  me　have　it。'
  'I　ha'n't　got　it；　child。'
  'I　believe　you　have　got　it　under　your　cloak。'
  'Don't　tell　any　one；　dear；　don't　…　don't；'　and　the　apple…woman
  burst　into　tears。
  'What's　the　matter　with　you？'　said　I；　staring　at　her。
  'You　want　to　take　my　book　from　me？'
  'Not　I；　I　care　nothing　about　it；　keep　it；　if　you　like；　only　tell　me
  what's　the　matter？'
  'Why；　all　about　that　book。'
  'The　book？'
  'Yes；　they　wanted　to　take　it　from　me。'
  'Who　did？'
  'Why；　some　wicked　boys。　　I'll　tell　you　all　about　it。　　Eight　or　ten
  days　ago；　I　sat　behind　my　stall；　reading　my　book；　all　of　a　sudden　I
  felt　it　snatched　from　my　hand；　up　I　started；　and　see　three　rascals
  of　boys　grinning　at　me；　one　of　them　held　the　book　in　his　hand。
  〃What　book　is　this？〃　said　he；　grinning　at　it。　　〃What　do　you　want
  with　my　book？〃　said　I；　clutching　at　it　over　my　stall；　〃give　me　my
  book。〃　　〃What　do　you　want　a　book　for？〃　said　he；　holding　it　back；　〃I
  have　a　good　mind　to　fling　it　into　the　Thames。〃　　〃Give　me　my　book；〃
  I　shrieked；　and；　snatching　at　it；　I　fell　over　my　stall；　and　all　my
  fruit　was　scattered　about。　　Off　ran　the　boys　…　off　ran　the　rascal
  with　my　book。　　Oh　dear；　I　thought　I　should　have　died；　up　I　got；
  however；　and　ran　after　them　as　well　as　I　could；　I　thought　of　my
  fruit；　but　I　thought　more　of　my　book。　　I　left　my　fruit　and　ran
  after　my　book。　　〃My　book！　my　book！〃　I　shrieked；　〃murder！　theft！
  robbery！〃　　I　was　near　being　crushed　under　the　wheels　of　a　cart；　but
  I　didn't　care　…　I　followed　the　rascals。　　〃Stop　them！　stop　them！〃　　I
  ran　nearly　as　fast　as　they　…　they　couldn't　run　very　fast　on　account
  of　the　crowd。　　At　last　some　one　stopped　the　rascal；　whereupon　he
  turned　round；　and　flinging　the　book　at　me；　it　fell　into　the　mud；
  well；　I　picked　it　up　and　kissed　it；　all　muddy　as　it　was。　　〃Has　he
  robbed　you？〃　said　the　man。　　〃Robbed　me；　indeed；　why　he　had　got　my
  book。〃　　〃Oh；　your　book；〃　said　the　man；　and　laughed；　and　let　the
  rascal　go。　　Ah；　he　might　laugh；　but　…　'
  'Well；　go　on。'
  'My　heart　beats　so。　　Well；　I　went　back　to　my　booth　and　picked　up　my
  stall　and　my　fruits；　what　I　could　find　of　them。　　I　couldn't　keep　my
  stall　for　two　days　I　got　such　a　fright；　and　when　I　got　round　I
  couldn't　bide　the　booth　where　the　thing　had　happened；　so　I　came
  over　to　the　other　side。　　Oh；　the　rascals；　if　I　could　but　see　them
  hanged。'
  'For　what？'
  'Why；　for　stealing　my　book。'
  'I　thought　you　didn't　dislike　stealing；　…　that　you　were　ready　to
  buy　things　…　there　was　your　son；　you　know　…　'
  'Yes；　to　be　sure。'
  'He　took　things。'
  'To　be　sure　he　did。'
  'But　you　don't　like　a　thing　of　yours　to　be　taken。'
  'No；　that's　quite　a　different　thing；　what's　stealing　handkerchiefs；
  and　that　kind　of　thing；　to　do　with　taking　my　book？　there's　a　wide
  difference　…　don't　you　see？'
  'Yes；　I　see。'
  'Do　you；　dear？　well；　bless　your　heart；　I'm　glad　you　do。　　Would　you
  like　to　look　at　the　book？'
  'Well；　I　think　I　should。'
  'Honour　bright？'　said　the　apple…woman；　looking　me　in　the　eyes。
  'Honour　bright；'　said　I；　looking　the　apple…woman　in　the　eyes。
  'Well　then；　dear；　here　it　is；'　said　she；　taking　it　from　under　her
  cloak；　'read　it　as　long　as　you　like；　only　get　a　little　farther　into
  the　booth　…　　Don't　sit　so　near　the　edge　…　you　might　…　'
  I　went　deep　into　the　booth；　and　the　apple…woman；　bringing　her　chair
  round；　almost　confronted　me。　　I　commenced　reading　the　book；　and　was
  soon　engrossed　by　it；　hours　passed　away；　once　or　twice　I　lifted　up
  my　eyes；　the　apple…woman　was　still　confronting　me：　　at　last　my　eyes
  began　to　ache；　whereupon　I　returned　the　book　to　the　apple…woman；
  and；　giving　her　another　tanner；　walked　away。
  CHAPTER　XLI
  Decease　of　the　Review　…　Homer　himself　…　Bread　and　cheese　…　Finger
  and　thumb　…　Impossible　to　find　…　Something　grand　…　Universal
  mixture　…　Some　other　publisher。
  TIME　passed　away；　and　with　it　the　Review；　which；　contrary　to　the
  publisher's　expectation；　did　not　prove　a　successful　speculation。
  About　four　months　after　the　period　of　its　birth　it　expired；　as　all
  Reviews　must　for　which　there　is　no　demand。　　Authors　had　ceased　to
  send　their　publications　to　it；　and；　consequently；　to　purchase　it；
  for　I　have　already　hinted　that　it　was　almost　entirely　supported　by
  authors　of　a　particular　class；　who　expected　to　see　their
  publications　foredoomed　to　immortality　in　its　pages。　　The　behaviour
  of　these　authors　towards　this　unfortunate　publication　I　can
  attribute　to　no　other　cause　than　to　a　report　which　was
  industriously　circulated；　namely；　that　the　Review　was　low；　and　that
  to　be　reviewed　in　it　was　an　infallible　sign　that　one　was　a　low
  person；　who　could　be　reviewed　nowhere　else。　　So　authors　took
  fright；　and　no　wonder；　for　it　will　never　do　for　an　author　to　be
  considered　low。　　Homer　himself　has　never　yet　entirely　recovered
  from　the　injury　he　received　by　Lord　Chesterfield's　remark　that　the
  speeches　of　his　heroes　were　frequently　exceedingly　low。
  So　the　Review　ceased；　and　the　reviewing　corps　no　longer　existed　as
  such；　they　forthwith　returned　to　their　proper　avocations　…　the
  editor　to　compose　tunes　on　his　piano；　and　to　the　task　of　disposing
  of　the　remaining　copies　of　his　Quintilian　…　the　inferior　members　to
  working　for　the　publisher；　being　to　a　man　dependants　of　his；　one；
  to　composing　fairy　tales；　another；　to　collecting　miracles　of　Popish
  saints；　and　a　third；　Newgate　lives　and　trials。　　Owing　to　the　bad
  success　of　the　Review；　the　publisher　became　more　furious　than　ever。
  My　money　was　growing　short；　and　I　one　day　asked　him　to　pay　me　for
  my　labours　in　the　deceased　public