He entertained no relish for books, and was wholly unconscious of any power they possessed to delight or instruct.

This volume had lain for years in a corner of his garret, half buried in dust and rubbish.

He had marked it as it lay; had thrown it, as his occasions required, from one spot to another; but had felt no inclination to examine its contents, or even to inquire what was the subject of which it treated.
One Sunday afternoon, being induced to retire for a few minutes to his garret, his eye was attracted by a page of this book, which, by some accident, had been opened and placed full in his view.

He was seated on the edge of his bed, and was employed in repairing a rent in some part of his clothes.

His eyes were not confined to his work, but occasionally wandering, lighted at length upon the page.