148 BIRDS' NESTS. 



as Mr. Miller stepped on it, it splashed the 

 filthy water on all sides, and it was quite clear 

 that the puddle had been suffered to remain 

 so long that it had washed away the earth 

 from beneath the stone, and made its way 

 beneath the tile floor within. Indeed, in more 

 than one place a tile had sunk an inch or more, 

 so that the black slimy mud oozed through in 

 several places. The door stood wide open, 

 and just inside sat the younger Johnson, dip- 

 ping up the filth with an iron spoon, from 

 one of the little pools, and pouring it into 

 another. 



The unhappy child looked very much fright- 

 ened when he spied Mr. Miller, and to the 

 question, "Is your mother at home?" made 

 scarcely any reply, but skulked to the door, 

 and made his way through one of the gaps as 

 fast as he could. 



This gave Mr. Miller time to look around 

 him, and it need hardly be said, that the con- 

 trast between this unsightly dwelling and the 



