The lodger who occupies the first floor seldom condescends to speak to the "common people" who live in the garrets, for there is almost as much difference in their habits as there is between the aristocracy and the quiet plodding citizen. He who occupies the attic is very probably an honest hard-handed mechanic, who comes home to his dinner regularly at twelve o'clock, gives one loud single knock at the door, and is admitted by his poor but clean-looking wife: he wipes his feet carefully before going up stairs--first and second-floor doors never by any possible chance opening in the mean time. Second-floor comes with a bold double-knock, something between a bum-bailiff's, a postman's, and a tax-gatherer's; he dines at one or two, and is on nodding terms with the first-floor; he persevered for months trying on a "Fine morning, sir," and at last was made happy by a most surly "Very, sir." He progressed a step farther one day by saying something unpleasant about the "common people up-stairs." First-floor dines at three or four, if he is a clerk or holds some slight situation under government, obtained, perhaps, through his father selling his vote at a country election: he gives a regular "ran-tan-tan-tirra-irra-tir-tir-tir," for he keeps a little draggle-tailed, dirty, poor parish-child, and she answers the door--that is "our servant." The ground-floor people--that is, generally, the landlord and his family (if they do not live in the kitchen)--bow and smile at the first-floor from the parlour window: he is such a respectable "gent," and pays so regular; has a gallon of spirits sent in at a time, and never disgraces the house by having in such beggarly things as half-a-hundred of coals and two bundles of wood. But the picture is not complete without the children. First-floor have their hair plaited behind (if they are girls), and the ends of these long tails are tied with either blue or pink ribbon; they also wear little trousers, frilled about the ankles like little bantam-cocks, and strut about before the door like the above-named bird. Second-floor children are very tidy, as most of the washing is put out, and the mother can spare time to look after them; they are taught to "toady" to first-floor as soon as they have learned to talk; to call them "miss" or "master," and their father and mother "pa" and "ma." Your heart aches while you look on the canting little creatures, whose every motion is watched by the eyes of the parents. Second-floor's children are always to blame if any thing goes wrong, and the lick-spittle parents chide their children for the faults of the others, to keep in with first-floor. You have in those dear children a true picture of the humbug and hollow-heartedness of the insincere portion of mankind.