RS.

In the town called Cantabridge, now a city, water-veined and gas
windpiped, in the street running down to the Bridge, beyond which
dwelt Sally, told of in a book of a friend of mine, was of old a house
inhabited by three maidens. They left no near kinsfolk, I believe;
whether they did or not, I have no ill to speak of them; for they lived
and died in all good report and maidenly credit. The house they lived
in was of the small, gambrel-roofed cottage pattern, after the shape of
Esquires' houses, but after the size of the dwellings of handicraftsmen.
The lower story was fitted up as a shop. Specially was it provided with
one of those half-doors now so rarely met with, which are to whole
doors as spencers worn by old folk are to coats. They speak of limited
commerce united with a social or observing disposition--on the part of
the shopkeeper,--allowing, as they do, talk with passers-by, yet keeping
off such as have not the excuse of business to cross the threshold.
On the door-posts, at either side, above the half-door, hung certain
perennial articles of merchandise, of which my memory still has hanging
among its faded photographs a kind of netted scarf and some pairs of
thick woollen stockings. More articles, but not very many, were stored
inside; and there was one drawer, containing children's books, out of
which I once was treated to a minute quarto ornamented with handsome
cuts. This was the only purchase I ever knew to be made at the shop kept
by the three maiden ladies, though it is probable there were others. So
long as I remember the shop, the same scarf and, I should say, the same
stockings hung on the door-posts.--You think I am exaggerating again,
and that shopkeepers would not keep the same article exposed for years.
Come to me, the Professor, and I will take you in five minutes to a shop
in this city where I will show you an article hanging now in the very
place where more than thirty years ago I myself inquired the price of
it of the present head of the establishment. [ This was a glass alembic,
which hung up in Daniel Henchman's apothecary shop, corner of Cambridge
and Chambers streets.]

The three maidens were of comely presence, and one of them had
had claims to be considered a Beauty. When I saw them in the old
meeting-house on Sundays, as they rustled in through the aisles in silks
and satins, not gay, but more than decent, as I remember them, I thought
of My Lady Bountiful in the history of "Litt