subdued for him to feel anything acutely.

Occasionally one of the passengers, to while away a tedious
interval, approaches the old man, inspects the articles upon his
board, and even peeps curiously into the two baskets. Another,
striding to and fro along the room, throws a look at the apples and
gingerbread at every turn. A third, it may be of a more sensitive
and delicate texture of being, glances shyly thitherward, cautious
not to excite expectations of a purchaser while yet undetermined
whether to buy. But there appears to be no need of such a
scrupulous regard to our old friend's feelings. True, he is
conscious of the remote possibility to sell a cake or an apple; but
innumerable disappointments have rendered him so far a philosopher,
that, even if the purchased article should be returned, he will
consider it altogether in the ordinary train of events. He speaks
to none, and makes no sign of offering his wares to the public: not
that he is deterred by pride, but by the certain conviction that
such demonstrations would not increase his custom. Besides, this
activity in business would require an energy that never could have
been a characteristic of his almost passive disposition even in
youth. Whenever an actual customer customer appears the old man
looks up with a patient eye: if the price and the article are
approved, he is ready to make change; otherwise his eyelids droop
again sadly enough, but with no heavier despondency than before. He
shivers, perhaps folds his lean arms around his lean body, and
resumes the life-long, frozen patience in which consists his
strength.

Once in a while a school-boy comes hastily up, places cent or two
upon the board, and takes up a cake, or stick of candy, or a measure