Boys, at the time of which we write, were attired like men of their own day, or certain charity-children of ours; and the stripling in question was dressed in black plush breeches, and a gray drugget waistcoat, with immoderately long pockets, both of which were evidently the cast-off clothes of some one considerably his senior. “I’m not coarse—no! But I’ve got no purity of mind—no real purity of mind. For hats that fail and hats that flare; Toppers their universal wear; A man scores always, everywhere. ‘We don’t know who she is. You're a queer lad. ” She said to him as they walked past houses down the block. '—'Pretty well,' says I; 'you're not badly off at the Friars, for that matter.
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