grave, old-fashioned looks they seem
to cast! What pitiful, frightened looks sometimes! I saw a little mite
sitting on a doorstep in a Soho slum one night, and I shall never forget
the look that the gas-lamp showed me on its wizen face--a look of dull
despair, as if from the squalid court the vista of its own squalid life
had risen, ghostlike, and struck its heart dead with horror.

Poor little feet, just commencing the stony journey! We old travelers,
far down the road, can only pause to wave a hand to you. You come out of
the dark mist, and we, looking back, see you, so tiny in the distance,
standing on the brow of the hill, your arms stretched out toward us.
God speed you! We would stay and take your little hands in ours, but the
murmur of the great sea is in our ears and we may not linger. We must
hasten down, for the shadowy ships are waiting to spread their sable
sails.

ON EATING AND DRINKING.

I always was fond of eating and drinking, even as a child--especially
eating, in those early days. I had an appetite then, also a digestion. I
remember a dull-eyed, livid-complexioned gentleman coming to dine at
our house once. He watched me eating for about five minutes, quite
fascinated seemingly, and then he turned to my father with--

"Does your boy ever suffer from dyspepsia?"

"I never heard him complain of anything of that kind," replied my
father. "Do you ever suffer from dyspepsia, Colly wobbles?" (They called
me Colly wobbles, but it was not my real name.)

"No, pa," I answered. After which I added:

"What is dyspepsia, pa?"

My livid-complexioned friend regarded me with a look of mingled
amazement and envy. Then in a tone of infinite pity he slowly said:

"You will know--some day."

My poor, dear mother used to say she liked to see me eat, and it has
always been a pleasant reflection to me since that I must have given
her much gratification in that direction. A growing, healthy lad, taking
plenty of exercise and careful to restrain himself from indulging in
too much study, can generally satisfy the most exacting expectations as
regards his feeding powers.

It is amusing to see boys eat when you have not got to pay for it. Their
idea of a square meal is a pound and a half of roast beef with five
or six good-sized potatoes (soapy ones preferred as being more
substantial), plenty of greens, and four thick slices of Yorkshire
pudding, followed by a couple of currant dumplings, a few green apples,