soap and a small wooden bowl half-filled with
hard water. The water, indeed, as I have
good reason to know, is of so hard and
uncompromising a nature, that it feels to the
face like the application of a few saws or a
bone-crusher. It is followed by an effect
resembling the marks of stinging nettles, and
the human nose looks red and angry for a
good half-hour after its use.

The house is so very clean that if I take
the liberty of laying down my pipe anywhere
it straightway makes such a mark that I
am fain to rub it out with my pocket
handkerchief, lest it should be seen. I sit
down in the natty little chairs with much
timidity. I am apprehensive that they may
be soiled or damaged if I treat them
discourteously. When I go out, I look nervously
behind me to see if all is in order. I
scrupulously understand that the little room is
confided to me under a tacit but awful
responsibility to keep it tidy. I would not for a
week's rent that the carpenter's long wife
should come in upon me suddenly with my
papers in disarray and my handkerchief
untied. I should fall too painfully in her
estimation. I know that I am under a moral
obligation to be orderly and neat in all my
dealings. I have an uneasy suspicion that if
I were otherwise I should be at once detected,
that the watchful eye of the little carpenter's
long wife would look reproachfully at me
through the keyhole and abash me utterly;
while her voice would be heard in accents of
withering condemnation through the chinks
of the little door. She is a vigilant woman
with wonderfully harassing endowments of
eye and ear. I could in nowise escape from
her.

If I cough or sneeze, or move my chair ever
so little so that it creaks I am inwardly
aware that Mrs. Tiddie is uneasy in her
retirement, and wonders if I have injured the
bright little Kidderminster carpet. I hear
her constantly call out, oh, dear! oh, dear! in
great tribulation of spirit on such occasions;
for we are divided only by a lathy partition
according to the custom of builders in modern
times.

Therefore, it betides that I am a sort of
prisoner of honour. I know, indeed, that I
may escape; but am obliged to confess that
it would be highly unbecoming in me to do
so. If I were to desecrate the snowy
doorstep (which is the pride of Mrs. Tiddie's
housewifery), by any hasty or indecorous
movement—if I were flightily to jump over
it, or to touch it with boots already familiar
with dew and gravel—I should cause such a
commotion in my landlady's breast, that I
should be ashamed to appear in her presence
during many days. I should feel like a
guilty and worthless person while at meals,
under her severe and unforgiving observation.
Yet I do not like to go to her frankly and say,
"Please, ma'am, may I go out," because I
do not know how she might take it. I remain,
therefore, patiently biding my time; and if I
can only catch her when she is engaged with
the greengrocer, or any other of the respectable
itinerant tradesmen who cultivate her
intimacy and enjoy the racy truths of her
discourse during the fore part of the day, I
boldly seize the advantage and swagger out
with a "Good morning, Mrs. Tiddie!" I
know that the risk of incurring her serious
displeasure for such conduct is very much
diminished when she is warmed and melted
by the glow of social intercourse, from her
usual austerity. I am not ignorant also that
my absence at such times is desirable, as
permitting Mrs. Tiddie a greater latitude of
discussion, and even furnishing her with an
occasion for more pungent remarks on my
person and character, than a restraining
sense of politeness would allow her to indulge
in, in my hearing. Sometimes, however, when
the weather is unfavourable, or Mrs. Tiddie
is engaged in her favourite domestic
accomplishment of washing, I wait for an
opportunity in vain. On one occasion, when
reduced to extremities by a close confinement
of two days, I seriously considered the
practicability and prudence of making escape
through the window. I was about to attempt
the exploit, confident that my agility would
enable me to clear the stocks, mignonette,
and geraniums, which barricaded the way,
without doing devastation among them. I had
no sooner risen from my chair, however, and
gingerly raised the window in pursuance of
my design, than an unfortunate click of the
lattice-bolt at once brought Mrs. Tiddie to
the apartment, with a "Lor, sir! won't you
go haeut at the door; it's a pity to muddle
the flauers so, it is." It is, of course, needless
to add, that I now subsided at once into my
habitual insignificance, and remained as silent
as a mouse during the rest of the day.

Now, the little carpenter manages better.
Whenever he wishes to go to the tom-and-
jerry shop, he acts with a wariness of
judgment and coolness of discretion which, had
he been born an hereditary legislator, would
have infallibly raised him to the highest
fortunes. He surlily requests Mrs. Tiddie to
hand him over "that there sor." He takes
the saw openly in his hand, as if he had got a
hasty job, and thus accoutred marches boldly
to the choice companionship of his own
familiar crony. The crony is a pudding-
faced young man, who has a habit of looking
down and twisting his shoulders when
spoken to, and answering as if his ideas were
so rusty that he had some difficulty in getting
them out. The rust seems even to have
reached his voice, which has a reluctant
croak about it, though it is not sulky or
unkindly; for he assents to everything that
is said, only he appears to make a concession
while doing so, as if he had been a great
while coming to a decision.

The carpenter and his wife have a daughter,
a fair, surprised, blue-eyed little maid, with