Smooth back your brown curls, Annie, and let me tie on your bonnet, and we will set forth.  What a strange couple to go on their rambles together!  One walks in black attire, with a measured step and a heavy brow and his thoughtful eyes bent down, while the gay little girl trips lightly along as if she were forced to keep hold of my hand lest her feet should dance away from the earth.  Yet there is sympathy between us.  If I pride myself on anything, it is because I have a smile that children love; and, on the other hand, there are few grown ladies that could entice me from the side of little Annie, for I delight to let my mind go hand in hand with the mind of a sinless child.  So come, Annie; but if I moralize as we go, do not listen to me:  only look about you and be merry.

Now we turn the corner.  Here are hacks with two horses and stage-coaches with four thundering to meet each other, and trucks and carts moving at a slower pace, being heavily laden with barrels from the wharves; and here are rattling gigs which perhaps will be smashed to pieces before our eyes.  Hitherward, also, comes a man trundling a wheelbarrow along the pavement.  Is not little Annie afraid of such a tumult?  No; she does not even shrink closer to my side, but passes on with fearless confidence, a happy child amidst a great throng of grown people who pay the same reverence to her infancy that they would to extreme old age.  Nobody jostles her:  all turn aside to make way for little Annie; and, what is most singular, she appears conscious of her claim to such respect.  Now her eyes brighten with pleasure.  A street-musician has seated himself on the steps of yonder church and pours forth his strains to the busy town—­a melody that has gone astray among the tramp of footsteps, the buzz of voices and the war of passing wheels.  Who heeds the poor organ-grinder?  None but myself and little Annie, whose feet begin to move in unison with the lively tune, as if she were loth that music should be wasted without a dance.  But where would Annie find a partner?  Some have the gout in their toes or the rheumatism in their joints; some are stiff with age, some feeble with disease; some are so lean that their bones would rattle, and others of such ponderous size that their agility would crack the flagstones; but many, many have leaden feet because their hearts are far heavier than lead.  It is a sad thought that I have chanced upon.  What a company of dancers should we be!  For I too am a gentleman of sober footsteps, and therefore, little Annie, let us walk sedately on.

It is a question with me whether this giddy child or my sage self have most pleasure in looking at the shop-windows.  We love the silks of sunny hue that glow within the darkened premises of the spruce dry-goods men; we are pleasantly dazzled by the burnished silver and the chased gold, the rings of wedlock and the costly love-ornaments, glistening at the window of the jeweller; but Annie, more than I, seeks for a glimpse of her passing figure in the dusty looking-glasses at the hardware-stores.  All that is bright and gay attracts us both.