Ichabod's leather garments have already been delicately hinted at, but it has not been said that they badly fitted his fourteen year old limbs, neither have his blue bob-tail coat and his vest, ornamented with pewter buttons, been mentioned--buttons bearing a large capital "G." There was no star of merit upon the left breast of Ichabod, but a pewter plate was stitched on, close to his heart, to keep him from being smitten by the pity of those who saw his absurd garments, and also to act as a label, and to show that he was number fifty-five in the list of scholars belonging to that most excellent gift of charity--Gunnis's, which, every one who knows London will tell you, is a school where so many boys are educated, and made moral scarecrows; and Ichabod being a "fondling"--as he was called by the workhouse nurse--was entered at last, to the freedom of his parish, already overburdened, and became one of Gunnis's boys. "Six o'clock, Ichabod," said Jared, "and don't be late." "No, sir," said 'Bod, as he was familiarly termed; and then he began to spin his muffin cap by the tuft of coloured wool on the top. "Don't do that, my boy, or you'll pull off the tassel," said Jared, as he prepared to descend the stairs, while the young gentleman addressed, evidently perceiving how disfigured his worsted cap would be without its red tuft, tossed it high in the air, to nimbly catch it again upon his head, though rather too far over his eyes for comfort in wearing. Then listening to the descending footsteps, he threw off his coat, and went down upon the boards in a sitting posture, but not of the common kind; for, though one leg was down in a normal position, the other was stretched out far behind, so that it appeared as if the joint had been reversed. Up again; and now one leg was thrust over his head, to the great danger of his leather pants; then the other leg was tucked over, and the boy down prostrate upon his chest, so that he wore the appearance of a dislocated frog, though his countenance beamed with satisfaction. "Ichabod!" cried Jared from below. "Comin', sir," shouted the boy, trying hard to untie himself, but in vain, although, after a couple more calls, he could hear the reascending steps of his employer. He twisted, he turned, he struggled, but he was like a mouse in a wire-trap; it was easy to get into his present state, but extrication seemed impossible. Higher came the steps, and the boy struggled more violently than ever to free himself, till, just as Jared reached the door of the organ loft, the unpractised tumbler rolled over upon his back and stared with upturned eyes over his forehead at the organist. "Why, bless my soul!" exclaimed Jared, "what a dreadful contortion. The boy must be in a fit." "No, I ain't," blubbered 'Bod. "I'm only stuck." "Stuck!" exclaimed Jared. "Yes, stuck," whimpered the boy. "Can't get my legs back 'cause I've got shoes on." "Stuck--shoes on," repeated Jared, in a puzzled way.