ld tenement building of which Mr. Minford had
occupied the upper story, five years before. The tenants had all been
changed two or three times; but the "Minford tragedy" was still a
current legend among them. Murders, or strange homicides, are fixtures
of houses where they occur. Nothing obliterates their memory but tearing
down the houses, and building anew--which is the course of treatment
that the proprietor was proposing to himself, in consequence of the
steady depreciation of rents. Pet never passed that house, or dared to
look at it even from a distance.

Bachelors' Hall, on the north side of the block, was still occupied by
the three original tenants; and they liked it so well, that they had
bought it, and owned it on the Tontine plan--viz., that, upon the death
of one of the owners, his share shall go to the survivors.

Five years had improved Marcus Wilkeson's relish for a good book, an
after-dinner pipe, and a chat with a friend. It was plain to all his
friends--even to those who were happiest in their wedded lives--that
Marcus was a great deal better off single than married. His was the
genial monkish nature, which thrives best in celibacy.

Every afternoon Marcus visited his white-haired neighbor opposite, and
never forgot to take along a toy, or some candy, for his grandniece
Helen. He brought these offerings in lieu of baby talk, which he could
never master. This fact pointed him out, beyond all question, as a
predestined old bachelor.

The general supervision of the house was intrusted to Mrs. Overtop; and
most sensibly did she manage it. Knowing that a bar of cast iron is more
easily bent than the set habits of men of twenty-five and upward, she
attempted no changes in the domestic regulations of the establishment.
The three friends found that they had not only all of their old freedom,
but a charming female voice to accompany them in their songs, and on the
piano or guitar, and a capital fourth hand at whist, and a beautiful
reader, and an ever-cheerful companion. "If I could find such a wife,
now!" Marcus and Maltboy would say. "But you can't," Overtop would
answer. "There's not another like her in this world." There was a
little Fayette Overtop, jr., two years old, a great pet of the
bachelors, and the far-off husband of little Helen, on the other side of
the block.

Matthew Maltboy weighed two hundred and twenty pounds. As associate
counsel of Overtop, he made an imposing show in court, which wa