Publisher's Synopsis
1847. The book begins: Many years since there stood in the suburbs of the then pretty little village of -, (now so well known as one of our largest inland towns, ) a small unpainted house, with a broken rail-fence between it and the road-a slovenly pair of bars, always thrown partly down, professing to give admission to the enclosure. The situation was pleasant, and if the evident marks of poverty and slovenliness which met one at the first glance did not deter from further observation, a little fancy might have transformed it into an inviting spot. The house was dilapidated, but not from age; and there were fruit-trees, though broken and unpruned; and rose bushes and lilacs, and currant and gooseberry bushes, upon which the little herd browsed. Yet, probably, few passers by suffered their attention to dwell long enough upon the place, to note any thing that could have rendered it even attractive. Due to the age and scarcity of the original we reproduced, some pages may be spotty or faded
