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THREE:Harry had not aged so successfully. He was terribly bent, and some of his joints were swollen grotesquely, though he had not had so much truck as Reuben with the earth and her vapours. He was so thin that he amounted to little more than shrivelled yellow skin over some twisted bones, and yet he was wiry and clung desperately to life. Reuben was sorry for this��his brother annoyed him. Harry grew more irritating with old age. He still played his fiddle, though he had now forgotten every semblance of a tune, and if it were taken away from him by some desperate person he would raise such an outcry that it would soon be restored as a lesser evil. He hardly ever spoke to anyone, but muttered to himself. "Salvation's got me!" he would croak, for his mind had been inexplicably stamped by Pete's outrage, and he forgot all about that perpetual wedding which had puzzled him for so many years. "Salvation's got me!" he would yell, suddenly waking in the middle[Pg 384] of the night��keeping the memory of the last traitor always green.It was a full hour, however, before the indefatigable purveyor re-appeared, accompanied by a dark, sun-burnt looking young man, attired in the garb of a dusty-foot or foreign pedlar. He appeared to be one of an inferior description of Galley-men, or Genoese merchants, (as described by Stowe,) who traded to England, and trafficked with a coin called galley-half-pence. They chiefly resided at a wharf named Galley Key, in Thames-street, and travelled as itinerant hawkers through the kingdom. His countenance, however, was not that of a Genoese��it had more the appearance of the English cast of features, though, judging from its dark and seaman-like hue, it was many years since he left his native country.