herly dame, known by the name of Dame
Heyliger. She was the widow of a Dutch sea-captain, who died suddenly
of a fever, in consequence of working too hard, and eating too
heartily, at the time when all the inhabitants turned out in a panic,
to fortify the place against the invasion of a small French
privateer.[14] He left her with very little money, and one infant son,
the only survivor of several children. The good woman had need of much
management, to make both ends meet, and keep up a decent appearance.
However, as her husband had fallen a victim to his zeal for the public
safety, it was universally agreed that "something ought to be done for
the widow;" and on the hopes of this "something" she lived tolerably
for some years; in the meantime, every body pitied and spoke well of
her; and that helped along.

[Footnote 14: 1705.]

She lived in a small house, in a small street, called Garden-street,
very probably from a garden which may have flourished there some time
or other. As her necessities every year grew greater, and the talk of
the public about doing "something for her" grew less, she had to cast
about for some mode of doing something for herself, by way of helping
out her slender means, and maintaining her independence, of which she
was somewhat tenacious.

Living in a mercantile town, she had caught something of the spirit,
and determined to venture a little in the great lottery of commerce.
On a sudden, therefore, to the great surprise of the street, there
appeared at her window a grand array of gingerbread kings and queens,
with their arms stuck a-kimbo, after the invariable royal manner.
There were also several broken tumblers, some filled with sugar-plums,
some with marbles; there were, moreover, cakes of various kinds, and
barley sugar, and Holland dolls, and wooden horses, with here and
there gilt-covered picture-books, and now and then a skein of thread,
or a dangling pound of candles. At the door of the house sat the good
old dame's cat, a decent demure-looking personage, that seemed to scan
every body that passed, to criticise their dress, and now and then to
stretch her neck, and look out with sudden curiosity, to see what was
going on at the other end of the street; but if by chance any idle
vagabond dog came by, and offered to be uncivil--hoity-toity!--how she
would bristle up, and growl, and spit, and strike out her paws! she
was as indignant as ever was an ancient and ugly spinster, on the
ap