RANGE OF APPRENTICESHIP. 79 



residence. " I am Mrs. Provolvus," said the woman. "You, 

 Ma'am," said I, laughing — " excuse me ; but you are as much 

 like my Mrs. Provolvus as the Guildhall flag-staff is like the 

 Old Church tower." " Your Mrs. Provolvus, indeed — I wish 

 my Mr, Provolvus was at home to chastize you."— "Eh?" roared 

 I. " Yes," said she, my Mr. Provolvus." " Can it then be 

 possible," said I, " that I have mistaken or missed the person I 

 sought — no ! the former is impossible — my Mrs. Provolvus, I 

 could not mistake — miss, I may, but I hope not." I now be- 

 gan to reflect upon the conversation I had with Nancy and her 

 mother ; and involuntarily looking my opponent in the face, 

 sorrowfully asked, if Mrs. Provolvus was dead. This question 

 brought the poor woman into the highest paroxysm of rage. — 

 " do I look," she vociferated, " like a dead woman — you 

 devil !" " Oh ! spare me," said I, ^' to reason with a mob is 

 preferable. You are not she T wished to behold — 't is a mistake 

 —good bye— and, for ever. 



This second visit put me out of heart to make a third. I went 

 a little way over the lane, and, retracing my steps, I heard the 

 girl say to her mother, " surely the man means grandmother.'^ 

 " Tush, you fool," said the mother, " when she has been dead 

 more than nine years." The thought of an apology after this 

 was absurd. I entered the lane with the curl of mirth ; it was 

 continued up to the moment of this adventure; but I left it as 

 chop-fallen as any poor criminal at the solemn hour of condem- 

 nation. "Grandmother is dead ! "—I repeated, as I retraced my 

 steps — " the cheerful, good-natured, charitable old Mrs. Provol- 

 vus dead ! miserum ! the Lady of the Lane is dead I and her 

 successors — brats and vulgarity ! 



What opinion these persons formed of me gave little concern, 

 but I could not avoid relating the rencontre to Mr, Crumplehorn, 

 for many years a neighbour to my Mrs. Provolvus. This man 

 had long left the neighbourhood — the only removal of which I 

 was aware. I had seen him frequently ; but, beyond family in- 

 quiries, our momentary chit-chat seldom if ever extended. He 

 could have told me half of the lane's last ten years' history, by 

 which the other half might have been fairly anticipated ; but as 

 it never moved me to inquire^ nor him to communicate, unsoli- 

 cited, my lot was the disagreeable experience of perhaps the 

 most acute of disappointments. My old friend and I seldom^ 

 after met without a smile. The sober recital of this visiting ex- 

 cursion would convulse him : but should I, at the close of his 



