Chapter 12 No.12

"Cakes, cakes, my good hot cakes!" Thus, in a plaintive voice, sang the old woman peddler who regularly, upon winter evenings, during the first ten or twelve years of my life, passed under our window.-When I think of those bygone days I hear again her insistent refrain.

It is with the memory of Sundays that the song of the "good hot cakes" is mo