n appetite with his romp as I
have done," replied Major Graham, sitting down. "None of your tea and
toast for me! that is only fit for ladies. Frank, reach me these
beef-steaks, and a cup of chocolate."

Harry and Laura now planted themselves at the window, gazing at crowds
of people who passed, while, by way of a joke, they guessed what
everybody had come out for, and who they all were.

"There is a fat cook with a basket under her arm, going to market," said
Harry. "Did you ever observe when Mrs. Marmalade comes home, she says to
grandmama, 'I have desired a leg of mutton to come here, my lady! and I
told a goose to be over also,' as if the leg of mutton and the goose
walked here, arm-in-arm, of themselves."

"Look at those children, going to see the wild beasts," added Laura,
"and this little girl is on her way to buy a new frock. I am sure she
needs one! that old man is hurrying along because he is too late for the
mail-coach; and this lady with a gown like a yellow daffodil, is going
to take root in the Botanical Gardens!"

"Uncle David! there is the very poorest boy I ever saw!" cried Harry,
turning eagerly round; "he has been standing in the cold here, for ten
minutes, looking the picture of misery! he wears no hat, and has pulled
his long lank hair to make a bow, about twenty times. Do come and look
at him! he is very pale, and his clothes seem to have been made before
he began to grow, for they are so much too small, and he is making us
many signs to open the window. May I do it?"

"No! no! I never give to chance beggars of that kind, especially young
able-bodied fellows like that, because there are so many needy,
deserving people whom I visit, who worked as long as they could, and
whom I know to be sober and honest. Most of the money we scatter to
street beggars goes straight to the gin-shop, and even the very youngest
children will buy or steal, to get the means of becoming intoxicated.
Only last week, Harry, the landlord of an ale-house at Portobello was
seen at the head of a long table, surrounded with ragged beggar boys
about twelve or fourteen years of age, who were all perfectly drunk, and
probably your friend there might be of the party."

"Oh no! uncle David! this boy seems quite sober and exceedingly clean,
though he is so very poor!" replied Laura; "his black trowsers are
patched and repatched, his jacket has faded into fifty colours, and his
shoes are mended in every direction, but still he lo