Tant Sannie comprehended, and, taking the volume from his hand, threw it into the back of the oven.

It lay upon the heap of coals, smoked, flared, and blazed, and the "Political Economy" was no more--gone out of existence, like many another poor heretic of flesh and blood.
Bonaparte grinned, and to watch the process brought his face so near the oven door that the white hair on his eyebrows got singed.

He then inquired if there were any more in the loft.
Learning that there were, he made signs indicative of taking up armfuls and flinging them into the fire.

But Tant Sannie was dubious.

The deceased Englishman had left all his personal effects specially to his child.