-tin ware for sale." Oh dear! I
shall have to stuff my ears with cotton wool. I'm as crazy as a
Fourth-of-July orator who has forgotten his speech.

There come some business men, chewing the last mouthful of their
breakfast as they button the first button of their overcoats and hurry
down street. There go the laundresses with their baskets of clean
clothes,--hope they haven't ironed off all the shirt-buttons. There's a
man with a parcel of old umbrellas on his back: it would puzzle "a
Philadelphia lawyer" to find out what _he_ is shouting. Never mind, he
makes a noise in the world; so I suppose he is satisfied. There go two
or three women with _slip-shod feet_;--ugh! And there's a little girl
fresh from the country, (you may know that) for her eyes are as bright
as stars, and her cheeks look like June roses. She has a bunch of
flowers in her hand, but they are no prettier than herself;--she is a
perfect little rose-bud (if her shoes are clumsy and her bonnet
old-fashioned.) If you'll excuse me I'll run down a minute and speak to
her.

Well, I declare! she says her name is "Letty Hill," and she has come
into town to see Aunt Hopkins; and her aunt, and she, and her little
cousin Meg Hopkins, are all going to Barnum's Museum, (Uncle Hopkins
isn't going with 'em, because he says Burnum's a humbug;) and she is
going to wear a clean white apron, that is stowed away safe in her
carpet bag, with blue ribbon strings on it. She don't know whether she
shall stay over night, or not; her mother told her she _might_, if Aunt
Hopkins asked her, and she hopes she _will_ ask her, because she and
Meg Hopkins want to tell ghost-stories, and play "tent" with the sheets
after they get into bed. She has a whole ninepence in her pocket, which
Jake (the man on the farm) gave her, and she intends to buy out some of
the Broadway shop keepers with it before she sees Clover Farm again.
She hopes Aunt Hopkins will have mince pie for dinner, and make it real
sweet, too; and she hopes Cousin Tom Hopkins will be at home, because
he always gives her sixpences. There she goes, tripping along. God
bless her! _She_ don't care whether there's a revolution in Europe or
not.

Look over there at that street pump; isn't that a pretty sight
now?--that little girl in the short frock, with bare legs, and feet as
plump as little partridges. She has set down her basket, and stopped to
get a drink of water. The pump handle goes very hard. She concludes to
put it