hildren of quite the
best families to be brought up by wood choppers. Fairies, the best
intentioned in the world, but born muddlers, were generally responsible
for these mishaps, which, however, always became righted in time for the
wedding. Or even had he been a pork butcher, and there were many in the
neighbourhood, I could have thought of him as a swineherd, and so found
precedent for hope.

But a fishmonger--from six in the evening a fried fishmonger! I searched
history in vain. Fried fishmongers were without the pale.

So gradually our meetings became less frequent, though I knew that
every afternoon she waited in the quiet Stainsby Road, where dwelt in
semi-detached, six-roomed villas the aristocracy of Poplar, and that
after awhile, for arriving late at times I have been witness to the
sad fact, tears would trace pathetic patterns upon her dust-besprinkled
cheeks; and with the advent of the world-illuminating Barbara, to which
event I am drawing near, they ceased altogether.

So began and ended my first romance. One of these days--some quiet
summer's afternoon, when even the air of Pigott Street vibrates with
tenderness beneath the whispered sighs of Memory, I shall walk into the
little grocer's shop and boldly ask to see her. So far have I already
gone as to trace her, and often have I tried to catch sight of her
through the glass door, but hitherto in vain. I know she is the more
or less troubled mother of a numerous progeny. I am told she has grown
stout, and probable enough it is that her tongue has gained rather than
lost in sharpness. Yet under all the unrealities the clumsy-handed world
has built about her, I shall see, I know, the lithesome little maid with
fond, admiring eyes. What help they were to me I never knew till I had
lost them. How hard to gain such eyes I have learned since. Were we to
write the truth in our confession books, should we not admit the quality
we most admire in others is admiration of ourselves? And is it not a
wise selection? If you would have me admirable, my friend, admire me,
and speak your commendation without stint that in the sunshine of your
praises I may wax. For indifference maketh an indifferent man, and
contempt a contemptible man. Come, is it not true? Does not all that is
worthy in us grow best by honour?

Chief among the remaining figures on my childhood's stage were the many
servants of our house, the "generals," as they were termed. So rapid,
as a rule, was th