. Life and reminiscences from birth to manhood of Wm. G. Johnston . r unspeakable. In 1864, at herSanitary Fair for the benefit of our soldiers in the field$360,000 were raised. When a boy, and old enough to do so, I was accus-tomed to accompany my father to the market-house toassist in bringing home the baskets containing his pur-chases. He always went quite early, for the best of 72 Going to Market- Jail. everything was then attainable ; proving the truth of theadage, that the early bird catches the worm. Thebutchers stalls were all lighted up with candles, butwhen we went among the country
. Life and reminiscences from birth to manhood of Wm. G. Johnston . r unspeakable. In 1864, at herSanitary Fair for the benefit of our soldiers in the field$360,000 were raised. When a boy, and old enough to do so, I was accus-tomed to accompany my father to the market-house toassist in bringing home the baskets containing his pur-chases. He always went quite early, for the best of 72 Going to Market- Jail. everything was then attainable ; proving the truth of theadage, that the early bird catches the worm. Thebutchers stalls were all lighted up with candles, butwhen we went among the country folks, we had to gropeour way in the dark, as they never provided themselveswith lights. But knowing where to go we made ourway with but little difficulty. In the cold, frosty morn-ings of winter, it always seemed to me that the butcherswere more cheery than at any other time. Everybodyknew everybody then, for the town was not grown bigand important; and the butchers and their customershad always words of greeting and sallies of good humorwhen they came THE JAIL. A small stone building, two stories high, with closelybarred windows, three above and two below, and a doorin the centre, studded with nail-heads about as large as University—Churches. 73 copper cents, approached by five or six steps runningsidewise, and having their outer end enclosed by an ironrailing, was one known to every man, woman and childas the jail. Another stone building—jail-like also, andscarce a whit more cheery, was the one in which my schooldays were brought to a sudden close by the fire of 45,—the Western University on Third Street, above Smithfield. The only church edifices I can recall, and I think thesecomprised the whole, were the First and Second Presby-terian churches; the former occupying the site still re-tained by that congregation, the latter on Diamond Alleynear Smithfield Street, where Marshalls machine-shopstands; two Methodist Episcopal churches,—one at thecorner of Lib
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