Here, likewise, were Gulliver's Travels, and a variety of little gilt-covered children's books, such as Tom Thumb, Jack the Giant Queller, Mother Goose's Melodies, and others which our great-grandparents used to read in their childhood.

And here were sermons for the pious, and pamphlets for the politicians, and ballads, some merry and some dismal ones, for the country people to sing.
Sam, in imagination, saw his father offer these books, pamphlets, and ballads, now to the rude yeomen who perhaps could not read a word; now to the country squires, who cared for nothing but to hunt hares and foxes; now to the children, who chose to spend their coppers for sugar-plums or gingerbread rather than for picture-books.

And if Mr.Johnson should sell a book to man, woman, or child, it would cost him an hour's talk to get a profit of only sixpence.
"My poor father!" thought Sam to himself.

"How his head will ache! and how heavy his heart will be! I am almost sorry that I did not do as he bade me." Then the boy went to his mother, who was busy about the house.

She did not know of what had passed between Mr.Johnson and Sam.
"Mother," said he, "did you think father seemed very ill to-day ?" "Yes, Sam," answered his mother, turning with a flushed face from the fire, where she was cooking their scanty dinner.