I 'ope you are not wearying of this solitary place, miss?
It will grow upon you, I am sure, as it did upon Mrs.Pollock, with all her peculiar fancies, and as it 'as grown upon us .-- We formerly had a butcher's shop in Buffington, and it was naturally a great responsibility.

Mr.Heaven's nerves are not strong, and at last he wanted a life of more quietude, more quietude was what he craved.

The life of a retail butcher is a most exciting and wearying one.

Nobody satisfied with their meat; as if it mattered in a world of change! Everybody complaining of too much bone or too little fat; nobody wishing tough chops or cutlets, but always seeking after fine joints, when it's against reason and nature that all joints should be juicy and all cutlets tender; always complaining if livers are not sent with every fowl, always asking you to remember the trimmin's, always wanting their beef well 'ung, and then if you 'ang it a minute too long, it's left on your 'ands! I often used to say to Mr.Heaven, yes many's the time I've said it, that if people would think more of the great 'ereafter and less about their own little stomachs, it would be a deal better for them, yes, a deal better, and make it much more comfortable for the butchers!" {The life.

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