when he has got it quite full. Meanwhile, the bookseller gives him his copy-books, because he takes a great many boys to the shop.
In school, he is always bartering; he effects sales of little articles every day, and gets up lotteries and exchanges; then he regrets the trade, and wants his stuff back again. He buys for two and sells for four; he plays at pitch-penny, and never loses; he sells old newspapers over again to the tobacconist; and he keeps a little blank-book, full of figures, in which he sets down his transactions. At school he studies nothing but arithmetic; and if he desires the medal, it is only that he may have a free entrance into the puppet-show.
But he pleases me; he amuses me. We played at keeping a market, with weights and scales. He knows the exact price of everything; he understands weighing, and quickly makes handsome paper horns, like shopkeepers. He declares that as soon as he has finished school he shall set up in business—in a new business which he has invented himself. He was very much pleased when I gave him some foreign postage-stamps; and he informed me exactly how each one sold for collections. My father pretended to be reading the newspaper; but he listened to him, and was greatly diverted. His pockets are bulging, full of his little wares; and he covers them up with a long, black cloak, and always appears thoughtful and preoccupied with business, like a merchant.
But the thing that he has nearest his heart is his collection of postage-stamps. This is his treasure; and he always speaks of it as though he were going
