Year: 1872

The tailor lived on the second floor,
and did his best to make a living for
his wife and four children.


Down stairs the small tObacconist
lived in a state of perpetual anxiety
about the tailor's rest, which he gener-
ally gave up piecemeal and with groans
as people give up their teeth, not be-
cause he did not wish to pay all his
bills but because of a shortness of
funds common to many people.


Up in the attic lived the single lod,
ger, of whom no one knew anything
His name was Smith but what did that
tell, when it was so common He was
lean and had hollow cheeks and anxious
eyes. What his business was, or if he
had any, no one knew. Perhaps he
wore linen, only no sign of it was per-
ceptble. We may also hope that he
wore stockings. The poor apothecary
of Rnmeo and Julietput the tobacconist
in mind of his attic lodger when, hay
ing been presented with tickets by a
theatrical lodger, he went to spend an
evening with Shakespeare.


He amt like IN his face, though" f"
said Mrs. Tobacconist, his clothes fit
too good, Mr.. Smith, that's all.


1t was an acute remark; Mr.. Smith s
clothes did fit him "too good" mas
much as they were a few sizes too small
or him. AS for business, he seemed
to have none. At noon he went out
for loaf of bread and a pitcher of
beer. After twelve o'clock he disap-
peared until midnight, when he let
himself in with latch-key and went to
bed without a candle.


"And for all he told any one about
himself said the tobacconist's wife,
che might have been a ghost. "


But he's civil spoken" said the
tailor's wife, to whom he always said,
+" Excuse me, ma'am, ''when he found
her atop on the staircase, in a puddle
of soap and water, which always made
the blackboards blacker than before,
and was obliged to wade through the
food with bread and beer And the
tailor's wife, who had lived at service
in her youth, even ventured to hint to
her husband that she thought Mr..
Smith was gentleman. However this
fancy the tailor crushed with a curse,
Gentlemen don't wear any such coat
as that, Sally"


IOOT IIGtlt UdlIOE, u6 StG ttOSS~iGgSGl
on his board and stitched and measured
men by their coats. II he had meas
ured or even mended more coats, it
would have been better for him and his
brood. Times seemed to grow worse,
custom less, the money harder to get.
When the little man read in his morn
| lng's paper of men who had shot them
| selves, or taken laudarum, he wonder
ed whether they had four children with
hearty appetites, and a prospect of hay
/ ng nothing for them to eat some day.
Not that he thought of killing himself:
besides, he had been told by his clergy
man that suicide was wicked but he
couldn't help thinking And that civil
lodger in the attic, how did he fare p
One night when Sally, who had been
mending and washing and ironing and
patching the family rags and patches
all day, was economically using up the
! fire by baking loaf of bread in the
stove oven, she heard the lodger come
| III. He went up stairs and paced the
floor. He came out in the entry and
creaked on the stairs. He seemed as
restless as Gagged tiger, and he had be-
hayed just so for three nights, instead
of retiring ut once, as the tailor's fam
lily knew be generally did by the creak-
ing ard swapping of his bedstead.


What can all him ~ said Sally, as
she took her bread out of the oven and
picked 1t with straw, finding it done.
''What can all him? I hope he amt
sick nor nothing; he's 50 civil, Door
dear.


Then Sally listened again.


| " declare he'e coming down" she