CHAPTER X.
AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN OLD PAIR OF SCISSORS.
I was born in Sheffield, England, at the close of the last century, and was, like all those who study Brown's Shorter Catechism, made out of dust.
My father was killed at Herculaneum at the time of the accident there, and buried with other scissors and knives and hooks and swords.

On my mother's side I am descended from a pair of shears that came to England during the Roman invasion.

My cousin hung to the belt of a duchess.

My uncle belonged to Hampton Court, and used to trim the king's hair.

I came to the United States while the grandfathers of the present generation of children were boys.
When I was young I was a gay fellow--indeed, what might have been called "a perfect blade." I look old and rusty hanging here on the nail, but take me down, and though my voice is a little squeaky with old age, I can tell you a pretty tale.