The cottage of the communicative little old woman, to whom I am indebted for so much of my information, was amongst the earliest erected in the Potteries. It must have been a picturesque object when the smoke first curled from the low chimney across the verdant plain, where neither villa, terrace, nor steeple were to be seen. The Hippodrome was then on the spot where the graceful church of Saint John’s now stands. Travellers, who were in the habit of coming this way, tell us _that_ was then the waymark, just as the church now seems to be the town-mark. Not far from the Hippodrome stood “Tucker’s Cottage,” which an artist thought sufficiently picturesque to transfer to his sketch-book. The reader may confirm this opinion on reference to my frontispiece. This interesting dwelling consisted of one floor, divided into two apartments, one for the family, the other for domestic purposes and such animals as were thought indispensable to the general welfare. Before and behind was an ample plot of ground, enclosed by a thick mound of earth that resembled the outworks of a fortification. The ground front was the domain of poultry, pigs, and the donkey; in the rear stagnated a lake, into which flowed the foul streams of the province. The pond was overhung with willow stumps, that assumed the title of trees. Like a sea far more famous, it had “no outlet but the ambient air.” As years passed, and the events previously described took place, this primeval cottage was fast advancing to decay. The roof and walls had been often repaired with old pieces of board, condemned teatrays, plaster, and similar rubbish; the windows had become opaque, and the chimney transparent. Various means had been adopted to prevent the downfall of the whole house. After a “stiffer breeze” than common, the little old man might have been seen doctoring Jenny’s (the donkey’s) apartment, and his own also. But all his trouble and pains were unavailing. The little dwelling, which he and his “guidwife” had helped to rear with their own hands, laughed at by the world, but endeared to them by the associations of a lifetime, was sentenced by the Commissioners to be taken down; and thus, just five years before the expiration of their lease, the venerable pair were compelled, at a cost to themselves of thirty shillings (which they could very ill afford), to pull down what remained of the old fabric. “Some natural tears they shed, but wiped them soon.” Yes, literally, they “wiped them soon;” for the poor old couple belonged to the company of the faithful, who believe that “here they have no continuing city, but seek one to come.” It was “the Lord’s will,” they said. “He ordered all for the best.” “The Master would soon call them to a house not made with hands;” and so, without repining, they rented an adjoining cottage. Here the principal inconvenience was, that “grannie,” in her old age, had scarcely room to stretch her weary limbs: so narrow