"'Tis, sir," said Matt, who was interested in his subject. "Now, do you know, sir," he continued after they had walked part of the way along the Row,--"do you know that if I was younger, I should be for founding a society, to be called the `Printers' Spectacle Association,' supported by contributions from writers for the press, who by this means would supply us with glasses, for often and often they quite destroy our sight." Old Matt's dissertation was put an end to by the driver of one of the Delivery carts, when, returning to the matter which had brought them from home, the strange couple were soon threading their way along Cheapside. There was but little difficulty in getting access to the registers of the old church, and a not very long search brought the seekers to the entry, in brown ink upon yellow paper, of the baptism of Septimus, son of Octavius and Lavinia Hardon, January 17--; but though the ages of the children before and after were entered, by some omission, his was absent. A copy was taken by both, and then they stood once more in the open street. "Just as I told you, sir," said Matt, "isn't it? there's the date; but it don't say how old you were." "No," replied Septimus; "but still it is satisfactory, so far. Now we'll see about the marriage, and then visit Finsbury." "You know the church?" said Matt. "Well, not exactly," said Septimus dreamily. "There are two in the street; but it was at one of them." "Good," said the old man; and soon after they stood in the street of two churches, and, taking the most imposing, they obtained admission to the vestry, where, after a long and careful search of the time-stained register, they were compelled to give up, for there was no result; while the regular way in which the leaves followed proved that none were missing. "Try t'other," said Matt laconically; and soon after they entered the damp, mouldy-smelling receptacle of the registers at the second church-- a quaint, queerly-built place that looked as if architecture had been set at defiance when it was erected. Old Matt was quiet and laconic enough in his speech; but as leaf after leaf was turned over, it was evident that the old man was more deeply interested than Septimus himself; for he grew so excited, that he was quite voracious with his snuff, his nose becoming a very devouring dragon of Scotch and rappee, till the supposed date of the marriage was neared, when the snuff was hastily pocketed. "Rayther rheumatic spot this, I should think," said Matt to the sexton, so as to appear quite at his ease. "Well, yes, it _is_ damp," said the sexton, who would have had no difficulty in passing himself off as Matt's brother; "but we have a fire here on Sundays all through the winter." "Don't have many berrin's now, I s'pose," said Matt, again bringing out the snuff, but this time for hospitable purposes. "Bless you, no," said the sexton, "ain't had one for years upon years. All cemetery work now."