Before I could say a word the badly wrapped up rasher was thrust into his coat pocket, the pipe extinguished, and thrust in after it, and a smile and nod of recognition were awarded to me. "Houses falling, mum? Oh! yes, it's as fact as fact. Come down without a moment's warning, afore you know'd where you were, I can tell you. I had a narrow escape." "What, were you there?" "To be sure I was. Where should I be if I warn't at home. It was at my old house. I'm in here, now," he continued, pointing. "There was the house up, as may be, lars night, and then, in the morning, it was a tumble-down heap o' smash, with broken bedsteads, and chairs, and chesties of drawers, and all sorts, tumbled together into a mash, with bricks and mortar, and laths and plaster, and beams. It's a mussy as no more wasn't killed; for there was, counting myself, four-and-twenty people as lived in that house, and many had to run out for their lives. People think that houses will stand for ever; and when a house ain't fit for nothing else but pulling down, some one buys the lease, puts a little whitewash on, and then lets all the rooms out at four or five shillings a week to poor people, while the old house groans and grumbles, and shakes on its pins awful. To-night, perhaps, Braggs, the cobbler in the back room, will have a row with his wife, and they'll be tearing about till the place shivers again. Night afore, perhaps it was Dennis Murphy and his missus getting a bit excited over a quartern of gin, and then they must get dancing up in their attic till other people's heads get plastered with hits o' whitewash as falls off the ceilings--only 'taint whitewash now, because it's turned t'other colour. Then the old house begins to show its sore places, and you can see an elbow shoving out here, and a crack there; first-floor winder sill's down on one side, and Mrs Tibbs out of the second-floor back, when she pays her rent, tells the landlord as her door sticks so that she can't open and shet it; and then, as soon as Mrs Sykes in the second-floor front knows as her neighbour has spoken, she tells the landlord as her window won't move. Then the first-floors say as there's a crack across their ceiling, and black dust falls out inter the bread and butter. And then what d'yer think the landlord does--eh? Get it all seen to, and shored up, and so on--eh? You'd think so, now, wouldn't you? But he don't; for I'll tell you what he does--he swears, that's what he does, and says as soon as ever people will pay up their rent and make all square, he'll do the house up. "That's a thing as he can promise safe enough, for there's no fear of that coming to pass; for they're all more or less behind, bless you, and he holds 'em as tight as wax. `Tell you what it is,' he says, one day, `them as don't like the place had better leave it, and if I have any more complaints I'll raise the rent.'