"I have no doubt of it, Stormy," said I, "for you have that appearance. You look as though, man, fate, and time had all used you roughly." "And so they have. I've nobody to thank for anything, unless it is the Almighty, for having given me health and strength to out-live what I have passed through; and I'm not sartin that I should be thankful for that. If you like, Rowley, I'll tell you something of my history; and it'll give you an idea of the way the world has used me." "I should like it much." "Here goes then! The first thing I can remember, is a father who used to get drunk in the legs; and the second, a mother who would as often get drunk in the head. "As my father, when intoxicated, could not stand on his feet, nor move from the place in which he chanced to be, my mother would take advantage of his helplessness; and used to teach him manners, in a way that always kept his countenance covered with scratches, cuts, and bruises. I may add, that she served myself in a very similar manner. If ever either my father, or I, were seen in the streets without a fresh wound on our faces, the neighbours knew that there was no money in the house, or anything that would be received at a pawn shop for so much as sixpence. The soundness of our skins would prove the scarcity of cash in my father's establishment; or as they say here in Californy, that we were `hard up.' "About the time I was thirteen years of age, my parents discovered that they could no longer maintain themselves, much less me; and they sought, and found, a home in the work-house--whither I was taken along with them. "Both died in the work-house the year after entering it; and I was apprenticed, or I might say hired out, to a baker. "In this situation, I had a world of work to do. I had to sit up all night, helping the journeymen to make the bread; and then I had to go out for two or three hours every morning--with a heavy basket of loaves on my head, to be delivered to the customers living here and there. In addition to this hard work, I was nearly starved. The only time I could get enough to eat, was when I was out on my rounds with the bread, when I could steal a little scrap from each loaf--in such a way that the morsel wouldn't be missed. "I've not yet told you, that my native place is London; and if you know anything of that city, you may have some idea of the life I lived when a child, with two miserable, poor, and drunken parents. "Well, I staid with the baker above two years; and though I was nearly killed with hard work and want of food--as well as sleep--that, perhaps, wasn't the most unhappy part of my life. There was a worse time in store for me.