The translation of the little French book, which Howard had completed, procured him the means of doing good. The book-seller to whom he offered it was both an honest man, and a good judge of literary productions. Mr. Russell’s name also operated in his pupil’s favour, and Howard received ten guineas for his translation.
Oliver was impatient for an opportunity to give his half-guinea, which he had held in his hand, till it was quite warm. “Let me look at that pretty thimble of yours,” said he, going up to the mulatto woman, who had now taken up her work again; and, as he playfully pulled off the thimble, he slipped his half-guinea into her hand; then he stopped her thanks, by running on to a hundred questions about her thimble. “What a strange thimble! How came you by such a thimble? Was i
