letters R--I--N--G. Even at church, we are told, she divides her time
between sleeping and secret polishing. It has just occurred to me, that I
might have saved you and myself much trouble had I at once told you that
aunt Cheeseman is a regular _Ring-worm_.

But, to my uncle--the only finery sported by him (and I hardly think it
deserving that word), besides a silver watch, sound and true as the owner,
and the very prototype of his bulk and serenity, was a gold snuff-box, a
large and handsome one, which he did not esteem for its intrinsic weight;
he had a "lusty pride" in showing that it was a prize gained in some
skilful agricultural contest. I am sorry at not recollecting what was
engraven on it; but being a thorough Cockney, and knowing nothing more of
the plough and harrow than that I have somewhere observed it as a tavern
sign, must plead for my ignorance in out-o'-town matters.

You can remember, no doubt, the day the Queen went to dine with the City
Nabobs at Guildhall. Cheeseman hurried impatiently to London for the sole
purpose of _seeing_ the sight, and upon finding my liking for the
spectacle as powerful as his own, declared I was the only sensible child
my mother ever had, and adding that as he was well able to push his way
through a Lunnon crowd, if my father and mother were willing, under his
protection I should see this grand affair. Not the slightest objection was
put in opposition to my uncle's proposal, consequently the next day,
November the 9th, 1837, uncle Cheeseman and I formed integral portions of
the huge mass of spectators which reached from St. James's to the City.

After slipping off the pavement a score of times (and in some instances
opportunely enough to be shoulder-grazed by a passing coach-wheel),
stunning numberless persons by explosions of oaths for clumsy collisions
and unintentional performances upon his tenderest corn, we reached the