'My book! my book!' I shrieked, 'murder! theft! robbery!' I was near being crushed under the wheels of a cart; but I didn't care--I followed the rascals.

'Stop them! stop them!' I ran nearly as fast as they--they couldn't run very fast on account of the crowd.

At last some one stopped the rascal, whereupon he turned round, and flinging the book at me, it fell into the mud; well, I picked it up and kissed it, all muddy as it was.

'Has he robbed you ?' said the man.

'Robbed me, indeed; why, he had got my book.' 'Oh, your book,' said the man, and laughed, and let the rascal go.