This is the ending of the book, that way you don't have to read the whole thing. Basically Bartleby is this character that works in a firm in Wall Street as a Scrivener. And although being effective at the beginning, he eventually starts to turn down work just saying 'I'd rather not' . He just stays in the office looking out the window which looks out to a brick wall. Classic of classics. I would strongly recommend too Vila-Mata's book, "Bartleby and Co." Which talks about writers who decided not to write.
Strangely huddled at the base of the wall, his knees drawn up, and lying
on his side, his head touching the cold stones, I saw the wasted
Bartleby. But nothing stirred. I paused; then went close up to him;
stooped over, and saw that his dim eyes were open; otherwise he seemed
profoundly sleeping. Something prompted me to touch him. I felt his
hand, when a tingling shiver ran up my arm and down my spine to my feet.
The round face of the grub-man peered upon me now. "His dinner is
ready. Won't he dine to-day, either? Or does he live without dining?"
"Lives without dining," said I, and closed his eyes.
"Eh!--He's asleep, aint he?"
"With kings and counselors," murmured I.
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