And over these you behold the thatch, thick and long and parti-coloured, eaved with little windows, where a bird may nest for ever.
But it was not for this outward beauty that Widow Shanks, stuck to her house, and paid the rent at intervals.

To her steadfast and well-managed mind, the number of rooms, and the separate staircase which a solvent lodger might enjoy, were the choicest grant of the household gods.

The times were bad--as they always are when conscientious people think of them--and poor Mrs.Shanks was desirous of paying her rent, by the payment of somebody.

Every now and then some well-fed family, hungering (after long carnage) for fish, would come from village pastures or town shambles, to gaze at the sea, and to taste its contents.

For in those days fish were still in their duty, to fry well, to boil well, and to go into the mouth well, instead of being dissolute--as nowadays the best is--with dirty ice, and flabby with arrested fermentation.