happen to see him again, until several weeks afterward.
He called to him to stop, and paid the sixpence.
‘Why, you refused to pay me, when I asked you,’ said the driver.
‘I know I did,’ he replied; ‘but I repented of it afterward.
I was in a hurry then, and I did not reflect that the mistake was my fault, not thine; and that I ought to pay for riding half a mile with thy horses, though they did carry me the wrong way.’
The man laughed, and said he didn't often meet with such conscientious passengers.
The tenacity of the old gentleman's memory was truly remarkable.
He often repeated letters, which he had written or received twenty years before on some memorable occasion; and if opportunity occurred to compare them with the originals, it would be found that he had scarcely varied a word.
He always maintained that he could distinctly remember some things, which happened before he was two years old. One day, when his parents were absent, and Polly
was busy about her work, he sat bolstered up in his cradle, when a sudden gust of wind blew a large piece of paper through the entry.
To his uneducated senses, it seemed to be a living creature, and he screamed violently.
It was several hours before he recovered from his extreme terror.
When his parents returned, he tried to make them understand