n them, rot
them--

"'_Got any ole boots?_'

"I'll give you old boots, by the lord Harry; I'll give you a dose of
something you won't forget, to your dying day."

And thus jabbering, fixing and pushing about the revolving shelf, over
his hall door, Mr. Mansfield worked away at his trap. Like that of most
dwellings in Boston, Uncle Henry's front door was _sunk_ some six or
eight feet into the face of the house, reached by a flight of six
granite steps--side and top lights to the door, in the ordinary way,
with brass plate and bell pull. It was in a neighborhood not _plebeian_
enough to induce butcher boys to enter the hall, with the pork and
potatoes, nor admit of the servant girl heaving "slops" out of the
front windows; yet not sufficiently parvenu to impress pedlers and

"_Got any ole boots?_"

with aristocratic or "respectable" _awe_, ere venturing to mount the
steps, pull the bell, and mention tin pots, scrap iron, rags and old
leather. Mr. Mansfield was inclined to _chuckle_ in his sleeves at the
_ruse_ he would be enabled to give his tormentors through the agency of
his revolving battery--charged with ground charcoal and brick dust, to
be worked by himself or Philly, by means of a string on the inside.
Philly was duly initiated into the _modus operandi_; when--

"_Got any ole boots?_"

made his appearance, amid his pyramid of leather, or a pedler's wagon
was seen in the neighborhood, Philly was to be on the _qui vive_, inform
Uncle Henry, and if they mounted the steps, he would give them a shower
bath upon a new and astonishing principle.

It was perfect "nuts" for Master Phil; he was tickled at the idea, and
readily agreed to Uncle Henry's propositions. Not long after arranging
the "infernal machine," Uncle Henry's attention was called to another
part of the house; a dire calamity had befallen the Canary bird; a
strange cat had pounced upon the cage--the door flew open, and puss
nabbed the little warbler. Philly, on the look out, in front, discovers
two old boot men approaching the neighborhood; desirous of showing his
own skill, he did not call Uncle Henry, but posted himself behind the
door--string in hand, awaiting the _cue_. Feet approach--quickly the
feet mount the steps.

"_Ding al ling, ding de ding, ding, ding, ding!_"

"_Sh-i-i-s-swashe!_" and down comes the avalanche of coal dust and
refined brick, the bulk of a peck, fair measurement!

Uncle Henry reached the door just in time to see the