ny with a man who had eaten up _my own mother!_"

Here Ben paused, and sighed deeply. I was so much shocked with the
narrative that I could not say a word. At last Ben continued:

"I couldn't stay in the room--I couldn't stay in the workhouse. I
couldn't even stay in the town. Before the day closed I was out of it,
and I have never been there since. Now, Jack, I must go in--remember
what I have said to you, and larn to read your Bible."

I promised that I would, and that very evening I had my first lesson
from Peter Anderson, and I continued to receive them until I could read
well. He then taught me to write and cipher; but before I could do the
latter, many events occurred, which must be made known to the reader.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

In which the Doctor lets out some very novel Modes of Medical
Treatment, which are attended with the greatest Success.

Such a change has taken place since I can first recollect Greenwich that
it will be somewhat difficult for me to make the reader aware of my
localities. Narrow streets have been pulled down, handsome buildings
erected--new hotels in lieu of small inns--gay shops have now usurped
those which were furnished only with articles necessary for the outfit
of the seamen. Formerly, long stages, with a basket to hold six behind,
and dillies which plied at the Elephant and Castle, were the usual land
conveyances--now they have made place for railroads and omnibuses.
Formerly, the wherry conveyed the mariner and his wife, with his
sea-chest, down to the landing-place--now steamboats pour out their
hundreds at a trip. Even the view from Greenwich is much changed, here
and there broken in upon by the high towers for shot and other
manufactories, or some large building which rises boldly in the
distance; while the "Dreadnaught's" splendid frame fills up half the
river, and she that was used to deal out death and destruction with her
terrible rows of teeth, is now dedicated by humanity to succor and
relieve.

I mention this because the house in which Dr. Tadpole formerly lived no
longer exists; and I wish particularly to describe it to the reader.

When I left Greenwich in 1817 or 1818, it was still standing, although
certainly in a very dilapidated state. I will, however, give a slight
sketch of it, as it is deeply impressed on my memory.

It was a tall, narrow building of dark red brick, much ornamented, and
probably built in the time of Queen Elizabeth. It had t