put a stop to his circular performance. Indeed, when one of the band advanced towards him with menacing gestures, he ran the wheelbarrow against the opposing force with such an unmistakable intention, that to save his legs the nigger had to fly. In this manner we came at length to the end of our journey. I found Windmill-street to be a mere slit in a busy and bustling neighbourhood, and Paradise-row, where uncle Bryan lived, a distinct libel upon heaven, being, I fervently hope, as little like a thoroughfare in Paradise as can well be imagined. Uncle Bryan's shop was at the corner of Windmill-street and Paradise-row, and uncle Bryan himself stood at his street-door, seemingly awaiting our arrival. 'Been loitering, eh?' was uncle Bryan's first salutation; sharply spoken, not to us, but to the boy. 'Never stopped wheelin', so 'elp me!' returned the boy, in a tone as sharp as my uncle's, yet with a doubtful look at my mother. 'Never stopped to take a breathful of air from the blessed minute we started. Arks 'er!' My mother, being appealed to by uncle Bryan, confirmed the boy's statement, which was strictly correct, and, to his manifest astonishment, made no reproachful reference to his circular flights. His astonishment, however, almost immediately assumed the form of a satisfied leer. 'How much was it to be?' asked uncle Bryan, not at all satisfied with my mother's assurance. 'Thrums,' replied the boy, readily. By which he meant threepence. Uncle Bryan regarded him sourly. 'Say that again, and I'll take off a penny.' 'Well, tuppence, then. I got to pay a ha'penny for the barrer. What's a brown, more or less?' The question was not addressed to any of us in particular, so none of us answered it. Uncle Bryan paid him twopence; and the boy, with never a 'thank you,' spun the coins in the air, and caught them deftly; then, with a wink at my mother as a trustworthy conspirator, he walked away with his empty barrow, whistling with all his wind at mankind in general. Now, when uncle Bryan first spoke, I started. I thought it was not the first time I had heard his voice. It sounded to me like the voice of the man with whom I had had the adventure on the previous Saturday night. The boy being out of sight, uncle Bryan turned to me. 'Why did you start just now?' 'I thought I knew your voice, sir,' I said. 'Call me uncle Bryan. Knew my voice! It isn't possible, as you've never set eyes on me, nor I on you, till this moment.' This was intended to settle the doubt, and I never again referred to it, although it remained with me for a long while afterwards. The trunk had been left on the doorstep, and uncle Bryan assisted us to carry it upstairs to the bedroom allotted to us. A little bed for me--uncle Bryan made it over to me in three words--was placed behind a screen. 'I thought,' he said to my mother, 'you would like your boy to sleep in the same room as yourself. The house is a small one, but we can find another place for him if you wish.'