"Here, let's go this way, sir," he said, turning into Warwick-lane. "Pretty game this, sir, isn't it? Slaughtered sheep, and murdered novels, and books of all sorts close together. Authors' sheep's-heads, and butchers' sheep's-heads cheek by jowl. Rum thing for both trades to get so close together. Regular bit of philosophy if you like to take it up, sir; stomach and brains, you see, food for both--books for the brains, meat for the stomach; and then backwards and forwards, one feeds the other, and one couldn't get on without the other; and here they are situated close to the very heart of the City. Look at the circulation going on--wonderful, ain't it, sir?" Old Matt stopped by a slaughter-house, not to pity the simple animal just killed, but to point out sundry choice portions that might be had bargains, if they could have availed themselves of the opportunity. "Wouldn't do, though, to go about such a job as we have on hand carrying a sheep's-head, would it, sir?" he observed to Septimus. "No; pray come along, and let's get our task over," exclaimed the latter. "To be sure," said Matt, coming to himself, and the next minute they were in Paternoster-row. "Lots of my old friends here," said Matt, stopping short in the middle of the narrow way, to be hustled by boys laden with sheets of paper fresh from the press, lads carrying reams, or newly-bound works tied between boards; men with blue bags over their shoulders heavily laden with books; men with oblong "mems" in their hands which they consulted as they hurried from swinging door to swinging door, collecting the publications of the different firms. Once the old man was nearly run over by a truck full of type-galleys driven by a pair of reckless imps of some neighbouring printing-office; while at least four times he came into contact with the fruit-baskets of the nymphs in stout boots and flattened bonnets, whose haunt is the labyrinth of learning known as "the Row."--"Lots of my old friends here," said Matt as his companion looked bewildered, and was thrust off the pavement; on to it again; into booksellers' where he did not want to go; and once against the muddy wheel of a cab, whose driver roundly abused him for nearly getting himself injured.--"Lots of my old friends here. Ah, you needn't mind a bit of pushing, sir--it's a busy place. Now, you know, if I liked to hunt about, I could find more than one bit of my work here, for I've done things and bits of things that's come out in more than half these places. All sorts of stuff; and what a sight of work a man can be put upon in a matter of fifty year, from playbills to prayer-books, and down again to penny-a-lining and posters! Law and physic's been my strongest points: but there; I've been on your magazines, and newspapers, and three-volume novels, and pamphlets, and everything else that's printed on a leaf, 'cept' last dying-speeches and halfpenny songs; and I never did get down, quite so low as that. I've