. I turned on the
intruder, and discovered the little cobbler, apparently as much under
the influence of liquor as on the day of his previous eccentricity,
stupidly endeavoring to push one post in the door while the other bade
fair to thrust itself through the ventilator. It was then I learned that
in the array consisted the entire household treasures of Mrs.
Mountchessington Lawk.

I may here mention that the cobbler had contracted a chronic habit of
hanging around my back gate, but slunk away whenever I happened to
observe him.

Gradually (leaving out the patients) our house began to wear the aspect
of a hospital. The doctor made his appearance three times daily. An
aged, red-faced nurse, smelling strong of whisky, wandered about like a
disembodied spirit; and a lively young woman, her assistant, clattered
up and down stairs at all hours of the day and night. Had the entire
city concluded to multiply and replenish, the preparations could not
have been on a grander scale.

Of the exact particulars of the event, I fear I am not altogether clear.
I have an indistinct recollection of battling with a midnight
thunder-storm, in a hopeless search for our medical man, and that,
immediately on my return, that functionary (who had arrived during my
absence) dispatched me on an equally important errand.

I remember pulling a great many night-bells and arousing an unlimited
number of apothecaries; but the only act at all fresh in my recollection
was slinking in the back gate at three o'clock A.M. (I had been
locked out the front way), and finding the little cobbler, and a
surrounding crowd of damp newsboys, cheering lustily for "Jinny." The
cause of that commotion was also a mystery; but, when I entered the
house, Master Moses Alphonso Butterby feebly echoed their shout of
triumph.

Under different auspices, my paternal affection might have developed
rapidly; but really, during the first few weeks of Moses Alphonso's
existence, our intercourse was so exceedingly limited I scarcely knew
him. Any intrusion within his little horizon of flannel or atmosphere of
paregoric was so severe a tax on the nerves of Mrs. Lawk, that, out of
consideration for her feelings, I rather avoided it. Indeed, had it not
been for the activity of that eminently respectable lady, I would have
fancied Moses Alphonso a brother-in-law instead of a son.

Bolted in by flannel bandages, barred with a cambric shirt, locked up in
towels, imprisoned in pet