"Three to a pound," answered Sarah, and so they slipped naturally into
discourse upon trade, its prospects and profits, and gradually a hint of
partnership was thrown out.

Sarah laughed at his insinuating address, and displayed a set of teeth
that rivalled crimped skate in their whiteness--a month afterwards they
became man and wife. For some years they toiled on together--he, like a
caterpillar, getting a living out of cabbages, and she, like an
undertaker, out of departed soles! Latterly, however, Jack discovered
that his spouse was rather addicted to 'summut short,' in fact, that she
drank like a fish, although the beverage she affected was a leetle
stronger than water. Their profit (unlike Mahomet) permitted them the
same baneful indulgence--and kept them both in spirits!

Their trade, however, fell off for they were often unable to carry their
baskets.

The last time we beheld them, Sarah was sitting in the cooling current of
a gutter, with her heels upon the curb (alas! how much did she need a
curb!) while Jack, having disposed of his basket, had obtained a post in
a public situation, was holding forth on the impropriety of her conduct.

"How can you let yourself down so?" said he,--"You're drunk--drunk,
Sarah, drunk!"

"On'y a little elevated, Jack."

"Elevated!--floor'd you mean."