The Bookworm, 185 



one. Sam always had a kind word for every- 

 body, and his heart was as big as a lion's ; a 

 most respected and well-liked man. 



Sam was a sport of the old school, seemed 

 to live in the saddle, and he was the last man 

 in the world you would accuse of being a 

 bookworm. He used to live well, and in his 

 latter years he suffered a good deal from the 

 gout. He was laid up by this old enemy one 

 day, and while we were out a friend from the 

 other side of the country enquired after Sam's 

 welfare. Somebody who had called to see 

 him that morning, said : — 



" Oh, he's a lot better. When I went up 

 to him, he was reading a book." 



*'What?" came the enquiry from several 

 of us, '' Sam Ongley reading a book ? " 



"Yes," was the straightforward answer. 



*' I'll bet you a sovereign he was not," said 

 one of them. 



" But, my good sir, I saw him." 



" No offence to you, sir. But I'll bet 

 you a sovereign old Sam was not reading a 

 book." 



