Boys, at the time of which we write, were attired like men of their own day, or certain charity-children of ours; and the stripling in question was dressed in black plush breeches, and a gray drugget waistcoat, with immoderately long pockets, both of which were evidently the cast-off clothes of some one considerably his senior. Living, he knew that he would never send that letter. "I have it too!" exclaimed Hogarth, busily plying his pencil. The office is a sight—not one sheet of paper on another; bills and receipts everywhere. She had eaten them.
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