t
would have broken out under such favorable auspices, and I should have
haunted McGinnis's Court. My speculations as to the origin of the court
were not altogether gratuitous, for by means of this window I once saw
the Past, as through a glass darkly. It was a Celtic shadow that early
one morning obstructed my ancient lights. It seemed to belong to an
individual with a pea-coat, a stubby pipe, and bristling beard. He was
gazing intently at the court, resting on a heavy cane, somewhat in the
way that heroes dramatically visit the scenes of their boyhood. As
there was little of architectural beauty in the court, I came to the
conclusion that it was McGinnis looking after his property. The fact
that he carefully kicked a broken bottle out of the road somewhat
strengthened me in the opinion. But he presently walked away, and the
court knew him no more. He probably collected his rents by proxy--if he
collected them at all.

Beyond Melons, of whom all this is purely introductory, there was little
to interest the most sanguine and hopeful nature. In common with all
such localities, a great deal of washing was done, in comparison with
the visible results. There was always something whisking on the line,
and always something whisking through the court, that looked as if
it ought to be there. A fish-geranium--of all plants kept for the
recreation of mankind, certainly the greatest illusion--straggled
under the window. Through its dusty leaves I caught the first glance of
Melons.

His age was about seven. He looked older, from the venerable whiteness
of his head, and it was impossible to conjecture his size, as he always
wore clothes apparently belonging to some shapely youth of nineteen.
A pair of pantaloons, that, when sustained by a single suspender,
completely equipped him, formed his every-day suit. How, with this
lavish superfluity of clothing, he managed to perform the surprising
gymnastic feats it has been my privilege to witness, I have never been
able to tell. His "turning the crab," and other minor dislocations, were
always attended with success. It was not an unusual sight at any hour of
the day to find Melons suspended on a line, or to see his venerable head
appearing above the roofs of the outhouses. Melons knew the exact height
of every fence in the vicinity, its facilities for scaling, and the
possibility of seizure on the other side. His more peaceful and quieter
amusements consisted in dragging a disused boile