The English author, Richard Savage¹, was once living in London in great poverty. In order to earn a little money he had written the story of his life, but not many copies of the book had been sold in the shops, and Savage was living from hand to mouth. As a result of his lack of food he became very ill, but after a time, owing to the skill of the doctor who had looked after him, he got well again.

After a week or two the doctor sent a bill to Savage for his visits, but poor Savage hadn't any money and couldn't pay it. The doctor waited for another month and sent the bill again. But still no money came. After several weeks he sent it to him again asking for his money. In the end he came to Savage's house and asked him for payment, saying to Savage, "You know you owe your life to me and I expected some gratitude² from you."

"I agree," said Savage, "that I owe my life to you, and to prove to you that I am not ungrateful for your work I will give my life to you."

With these words he handed to him two volumes entitled³, The life of Richard Savage.