all his eyes and more, frowns down his little
eyebrows purses up his little mouth puts his
chubby legs far apart turns his little dimpled
fists round and round slowly over one another
like a little coffee-mill, and says to her "Oo
impdent to mi Gran, me tut oor hi!" " Oh!"
says Miss Wozenham looking down scornfully
at the Mite "this is not a street-child
is it not! Really!" I bursts out laughing
and I says " Miss Wozenham if this an't a
pretty sight to you I don't envy your feelings
and I wish you good day. Jemmy come along
with Gran." And I was still in the best of
humours though his cap came flying up into the
street as if it had been just turned on out of the
water-plug, and I went home laughing all the
way, all owing to that dear boy.

The miles and miles that me and the Major
have travelled with Jemmy in the dusk between
the lights are not to be calculated, Jemmy
driving on the coach-box which is the Major's
brass-bound writing-desk on the table, me inside
in the easy-chair and the Major Guard up behind
with a brown-paper horn doing it really
wonderful. I do assure you my dear that sometimes
when I have taken a few winks in my place
inside the coach and have come half awake by
the flashing light of the fire and have heard
that precious pet driving and the Major blowing
up behind to have the change of horses
ready when we got to the Inn, I have half
believed we were on the old North Road that
my poor Lirriper knew so well. Then to see
that child and the Major both wrapped up
getting down to warm their feet and going
stamping about and having glasses of ale out of
the paper match-boxes on the chimney-piece is
to see the Major enjoying it fully as much as
the child I am very sure, and it's equal to any
play when Coachee opens the coach-door to
look in at me inside and say " Wery 'past that
'tage. 'Prightened old lady?"

But what my inexpressible feelings were when
we lost that child can only be compared to the
Major's which were not a shade better, through
his straying out at five years old and eleven
o'clock in the forenoon and never heard of by
word or sign or deed till half-past nine at night,
when the Major had gone to the Editor of the
Times newspaper to put in an advertisement,
which came out next day four and twenty hours
after he was found, and which I mean always
carefully to keep in my lavender drawer as the first
printed account of him. The more the day got
on, the more I got distracted and the Major too
and both of us made worse by the composed ways
of the police though very civil and obliging
and what I must call their obstinacy in not
entertaining the idea that he was stolen. " We
mostly find Mum" says the sergeant who came
round to comfort me, which he didn't at all and
he had been one of the private constables in
Caroline's time to which he referred in his
opening words when he said "Don't give way
to uneasiness in your mind Mum, it'll all come
as right as my nose did when I got the same
barked by that young woman in your second
floor"—says this sergeant "we mostly find
Mum as people ain't over anxious to have what
I may call second-hand children. You'll get
him back Mum." " O but my dear good sir"
I says clasping my hands and wringing them
and clasping them again "he is such an
uncommon child!" " Yes Mum" says the
sergeant, " we mostly find that too Mum. The
question is what his clothes were worth."
"His clothes" I says " were not worth much
sir for he had only got his playing-dress on,
but the dear child!—" " All right Mum"
says the sergeant. " You'll get him back, Mum.
And even if he'd had his best clothes on, it
wouldn't come to worse than his being found
wrapped up in a cabbage-leaf, a shivering in a
lane." His words pierced my heart like
daggers and daggers, and me and the Major
ran in and out like wild things all day long till
the Major returning from his interview with the
Editor of the Times at night rushes into my
little room hysterical and squeezes my hand and
wipes his eyes and says " Joy joy—officer in plain
clothes came up on the steps as I was letting
myself in—compose your feelings—Jemmy's
found." Consequently I fainted away and
when I came to, embraced the legs of the officer
in plain clothes who seemed to be taking a kind
of a quiet inventory in his mind of the property
in my little room with brown whiskers, and I
says " Blessings on you sir where is the
Darling!" and he says " In Kennington Station
House." I was dropping at his feet Stone at the
image of that Innocence in cells with murderers
when he adds " He followed the Monkey." I
says deeming it slang language " Oh sir explain
for a loving grandmother what Monkey!" He
says " him in the spangled cap with the strap
under the chin, as won't keep on—him as sweeps
the crossings on a round table and don't want to
draw his sabre more than he can help." Then I
understood it all and most thankfully thanked
him, and me and the Major and him drove over
to Kennington and there we found our boy
lying quite comfortable before a blazing fire
having sweetly played himself to sleep upon
a small accordion nothing like so big as
a flat iron which they had been so kind as
to lend him for the purpose and which it
appeared had been stopped upon a very young
person.

My dear the system upon which the Major
commenced and as I may say perfected Jemmy's
learning when he was so small that if the
dear was on the other side of the table you
had to look under it instead of over it to
see him with his mother's own bright hair
in beautiful curls, is a thing that ought to be
known to the Throne and Lords and Commons
and then might obtain some promotion for the
Major which he well deserves and would be
none the worse for (speaking between friends)
L. S. D.-ically. When the Major first undertook
his learning he says to me:

"I'm going Madam." he says " to make our
child a Calculating Boy."

"Major" I says, "you terrify me and may do