The flaunting windows of the mercers attracted many a purchaser: the glittering panes behind which Birmingham had glazed its simulated silver, induced rustics to pause: although only noon, the savory odors of the Cook Shops tempted the over hungry citizen to the bun of Bath, or to the fragrant potage that mocks the turtle's flavor--the turtle! O dapibus suprimi grata testudo Jovis! I am an Alderman when I think of thee! Well: it was noon in Chepe.
But were all battling for gain there?
Among the many brilliant shops whose casements shone upon Chepe, there stood one a century back (about which period our tale opens) devoted to the sale of Colonial produce.
A rudely carved image of a negro, with a fantastic plume and apron of variegated feathers, decorated the lintel.

The East and West had sent their contributions to replenish the window.
The poor slave had toiled, died perhaps, to produce yon pyramid of swarthy sugar marked "ONLY 6 1/2d."-- That catty box, on which was the epigraph "STRONG FAMILY CONGO ONLY 3s.

9d," was from the country of Confutzee--that heap of dark produce bore the legend "TRY OUR REAL NUT"-- 'Twas Cocoa--and that nut the Cocoa-nut, whose milk has refreshed the traveller and perplexed the natural philosopher.

The shop in question was, in a word, a Grocer's.
In the midst of the shop and its gorgeous contents sat one who, to judge from his appearance (though 'twas a difficult task, as, in sooth, his back was turned), had just reached that happy period of life when the Boy is expanding into the Man.

O Youth, Youth! Happy and Beautiful! O fresh and roseate dawn of life; when the dew yet lies on the flowers, ere they have been scorched and withered by Passion's fiery Sun! Immersed in thought or study, and indifferent to the din around him, sat the boy.