"My good friend, Owen Wood,—Heaven preserve him!—is still living. He won’t have menservants inside the house, and his collection of carriages is only fit for a museum—where most of his friends ought to be, by-the-bye. He “went in” for microscopy in the unphilosophical Victorian manner as his “hobby. "If you doubt my word, woman," replied the carpenter's wife, coldly, "ask Mr. ” Ann Veronica closed the door quite softly and stood still. '—'It's not to be thought of,' says I, thumping the table till every glass on it jingled; 'and I know a way as'll prevent it.
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