"How? surely, my honest friend, you--appointed to the conveyance of
important secret dispatches--did not act so imprudently as to kick over
an innocent man's box in the public streets of the capital, to which you
had been especially sent?"

"Yes, I did, Doctor."

"Never act so unwisely again. If the police had got hold of you, think
of what might have ensued."

"Well, it was not very wise of me, that's a fact, Doctor. But, you see,
I thought he meant mischief."

"And because you only thought he _meant_ mischief, _you_ must
straightway proceed to _do_ mischief. That's poor logic. But think over
what I have told you now, while I look over these papers."

In half an hour's time, the Doctor, laying down the documents, again
turned towards Israel, and removing his spectacles very placidly,
proceeded in the kindest and most familiar manner to read him a paternal
detailed lesson upon the ill-advised act he had been guilty of, upon the
Pont Neuf; concluding by taking out his purse, and putting three small
silver coins into Israel's hands, charging him to seek out the man that
very day, and make both apology and restitution for his unlucky mistake.

"All of us, my honest friend," continued the Doctor, "are subject to
making mistakes; so that the chief art of life, is to learn how best to
remedy mistakes. Now one remedy for mistakes is honesty. So pay the man
for the damage done to his box. And now, who are you, my friend? My