"I came yesterday from the country, with a view to earn my bread in some
way, but have changed my plan and propose now to return."

"Why have you changed it? In what way are you capable of earning your
bread?"

"I hardly know," said I. "I can, as yet, manage no tool, that can be
managed in the city, but the pen. My habits have, in some small degree,
qualified me for a writer. I would willingly accept employment of that
kind."

He fixed his eyes upon the earth, and was silent for some minutes. At
length, recovering himself, he said, "Follow me to my house. Perhaps
something may be done for you. If not, I will lend you sixpence."

It may be supposed that I eagerly complied with the invitation. My
companion said no more, his air bespeaking him to be absorbed by his own
thoughts, till he reached his house, which proved to be that at the door
of which I had been seated. We entered a parlour together.

Unless you can assume my ignorance and my simplicity, you will be unable
to conceive the impressions that were made by the size and ornaments of
this apartment. I shall omit these impressions, which, indeed, no
description could adequately convey, and dwell on incidents of greater
moment. He asked me to give him a specimen of my penmanship. I told you
that I had bestowed very great attention upon this art. Implements were
brought, and I sat down to the task. By some inexplicable connection a
line in Shakspeare occurred to me, and I wrote,--