and always something whisking through the court, that looked as if
it ought to be there. A fish-geranium--of all plants kept for the
recreation of mankind, certainly the greatest illusion--straggled
under the window. Through its dusty leaves I caught the first glance of
Melons.

His age was about seven. He looked older, from the venerable whiteness
of his head, and it was impossible to conjecture his size, as he always
wore clothes apparently belonging to some shapely youth of nineteen.
A pair of pantaloons, that, when sustained by a single suspender,
completely equipped him, formed his every-day suit. How, with this
lavish superfluity of clothing, he managed to perform the surprising
gymnastic feats it has been my privilege to witness, I have never been
able to tell. His "turning the crab," and other minor dislocations, were
always attended with success. It was not an unusual sight at any hour of
the day to find Melons suspended on a line, or to see his venerable head
appearing above the roofs of the outhouses. Melons knew the exact height
of every fence in the vicinity, its facilities for scaling, and the
possibility of seizure on the other side. His more peaceful and quieter
amusements consisted in dragging a disused boiler by a large string,
with hideous outcries, to imaginary fires.

Melons was not gregarious in his habits. A few youth of his own age
sometimes called upon him, but they eventually became abusive, and their
visits were more strictly predatory incursions for old bottles and junk
which formed the staple of McGinnis's Court. Overcome by loneliness one
day, Melons inveigled a blind harper into the court. For two hours did
that wretched man prosecute his unhallowed calling, unrecompensed, and
going round and round the court, apparently under the impression that it
was some other place, while Melons surveyed him from an adjoining fence