I shall certainly have the gout like the old cupboard. Gout in my back, ugh. And then the little boy entered the room where the old man sat. There was so much that the pieces of furniture stood in each other's way to get a sight of the little boy. On the wall near the centre of the room hung the picture of a beautiful lady, young and gay, dressed in the fashion of the olden times, with powdered hair, and a full, stiff skirt.
Many portraits hang there that none seem to trouble themselves about.
The persons they represent have been dead and buried long since. But I knew this lady many years ago, and she has been dead nearly half a century. Under a glass beneath the picture hung a nosegay of withered flowers, which were no doubt half a century old too, at least they appeared so. Then he took from the book-case, a book full of pictures representing long processions of wonderful coaches, such as are never seen at the present time. Soldiers like the knave of clubs, and citizens with waving banners.