One day I was walking in front of the Naval Asylum, when two little girls passed me, on their way to school. When they had passed, I heard one of them say:
“O, look at that man with one leg!”
“Hush!” said the other. “How would you like it if your pa had but one leg and a little girl would call out that way.”
“He aint anybody’s pa,” retorted the first.
“How do you know?” rejoined the other.
CHAPTER VII.
John Smith’s Friend.
NOW let me proceed. The gentleman in the Market-street car spared me. The questions he asked were few and to the point. He was an exception. When I replied in the affirmative to his first question, he said
“Where do you live?”
“In Western Pennsylvania,” I replied.
“Where are you staying now?”