he torn leaves of some old album where the faded
portraits in forgotten fashions, speak together in low tones of those
now dead or scattered, with now a smile and now a sigh, and many an "Ah
me!" or "Dear, dear!"

This bent, worn man, coming towards us with quick impatient steps, which
yet cease every fifty yards or so, while he pauses, leaning heavily upon
his high Malacca cane: "It is a handsome face, is it not?" I ask, as I
gaze upon it, shadow framed.

"Aye, handsome enough," answers the old House; "and handsomer still it
must have been before you and I knew it, before mean care had furrowed
it with fretful lines."

"I never could make out," continues the old House, musingly, "whom you
took after; for they were a handsome pair, your father and your mother,
though Lord! what a couple of children!"

"Children!" I say in surprise, for my father must have been past five
and thirty before the House could have known him, and my mother's face
is very close to mine, in the darkness, so that I see the many grey
hairs mingling with the bonny brown.

"Children," repeats the old House, irritably, so it seems to me, not
liking, perhaps, its opinions questioned, a failing common to old folk;
"the most helpless pair of children I ever set eyes upon. Who but
a child, I should like to know, would have conceived the notion of
repairing his fortune by becoming a solicitor at thirty-eight, or,
having conceived such a notion, would have selected the outskirts of
Poplar as a likely centre in which to put up his door-plate?"

"It was considered to be a rising neighbourhood," I reply, a little
resentful. No son cares to hear the family wisdom criticised, even
though at the bottom of his heart he may be in agreement with the
critic. "All sorts and conditions of men, whose affairs were in
connection with the sea would, it was thought, come to reside hereabout,
so as to be near to the new docks; and had they, it is not unreasonable
to suppose they would have quarrelled and disputed with one another,
much to the advantage of a cute solicitor, convenient to their hand."

"Stuff and nonsense," retorts the old House, shortly; "why, the mere
smell of the place would have been sufficient to keep a sensible man
away. And"--the grim brick face before me twists itself into a goblin
smile--"he, of all men in the world, as 'the cute solicitor,' giving
advice to shady clients, eager to get out of trouble by the shortest
way, can you fancy it! he