In a dark, narrow street, in one of those heterogeneous boarding-houses abounding in the city, where clerks, market-boys, apprentices, and sewing-girls, bolt their meals with railroad velocity; where the maid-of-all-work, with red arms, frowzy head, and leathern lungs, screams in the entry for any boarder who happens to be inquired for at the door; where one plate suffices for fish, flesh, fowl, and dessert; where soiled table-cloths, sticky crockery, oily cookery, and bad grammar, predominate; where greasy cards are shuffled, and bad cigars smoked of an evening, you might have found Ruth and her children.

“Jim, what do you think of her?” said a low-browed, pig-faced, thick-lipped fellow, with a flashy neck-tie and vest, over which several yards of gilt watch-chain were festooned ostentatiously; “prettyish, isn’t she?”

“Deuced nice form,” said Jim, lighting a cheap cigar, and hitching his heels to the mantel, as he took the first whiff; “I shouldn’t mind kissing her.”

“You?” said Sam, glancing in an opposite mirror; “I flatter myself you would stand a poor chance when your humble servant was round. If I had not made myself scarce, out of friendship, you would not have made such headway with black-eyed Sue, the little milliner.”

“Pooh,” said Jim, “Susan Gill was delf, this little widow is porcelain; I say it is a deuced pity she should stay up stairs, crying her eyes out, the way she does.”

“Want to marry her, hey?” said Sam, with a sneer.

“Not I; none of your ready-made families for me; pretty foot, hasn’t she? I always put on my coat in the front entry, about the time she goes up stairs, to get a peep at it. It is a confounded pretty foot, Sam, bless me if it isn’t; I should like to drive the owner of it out to the race-course, some pleasant afternoon. I must say, Sam, I like widows. I don’t know any occupation more interesting than helping to dry up their tears; and then the little dears are so grateful for any little attention. Wonder if my swallow-tailed coat won’t be done to-day? that rascally tailor ought to be snipped with his own shears.”

“Well, now, I wonder when you gentlemen intend taking yourselves off, and quitting the drawing-room,” said the loud-voiced landlady, perching a cap over her disheveled tresses; “this parlor is the only place I have to dress in; can’t you do your talking and smoking in your own rooms? Come now—here’s a lot of newspapers, just take them and be off, and give a woman a chance to make herself beautiful.”

“Beautiful!” exclaimed Sam, “the old dragon! she would make a good scarecrow for a corn-field, or a figure-head for a piratical cruiser; beautiful!” and the speaker smoothed a wrinkle out of his flashy yellow vest; “it is my opinion that the uglier a woman is, the more beautiful she thinks herself; also, that any of the sex may be bought with a yard of ribbon, or a breastpin.”

“Certainly,” said Jim, “you needn’t have lived to this time of life to have made that discovery; and speaking of that, reminds me that the little widow is as poor as Job’s turkey. My washerwoman, confound her for ironing off my shirt-buttons, says that she wears her clothes rough-dry, because she can’t afford to pay for both washing and ironing.”

“She does?” replied Sam; “she’ll get tired of that after awhile. I shall request ‘the dragon,’ to-morrow, to let me sit next her at the table. I’ll begin by helping the children, offering to cut up their victuals, and all that sort of thing—that will please the mother, you know; hey? But, by Jove! it’s three o’clock, and I engaged to drive a gen’lemen down to the steamboat landing; now some other hackney coach will get the job. Confound it!”