in the uppermost story of a house, containing about a dozen families.

This 'airy' apartment was situated in a narrow alley of great
thoroughfare, in the heart of the great metropolis.

The lower part of this domicile was occupied by one James, who did
'porter's work,' while his wife superintended the trade of a
miscellaneous store, called a green-grocer's; although the stock
comprised, besides a respectable skew of cabbages, carrots, lettuces, and
other things in season, a barrel of small beer, a side of bacon, a few
red herrings, a black looking can of 'new milk,' and those less
perishable articles, Warren's blacking, and Flanders' bricks; while the
window was graced with a few samples of common confectionary, celebrated
under the sweet names of lollypops, Buonaparte's ribs, and bulls'-eyes.

In one pane, by permission, was placed the sign board of my honored
parent, informing the reading public, that

'Repairs were neatly executed!'

In my mind's eye how distinctly do I behold that humble shop in all the
greenness and beauty of its Saturday morning's display.

Nor can I ever forget the kind dumpy motherly Mrs. James, who so often
patted my curly head, and presented me with a welcome slice of bread and
butter and a drink of milk, invariably repeating in her homely phrase, "a
child and a chicken is al'ays a pickin'"--and declaring her belief, that
the 'brat' got scarcely enough to "keep life and soul together"--the real
truth of which my craving stomach inwardly testified.