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MARTIN RATTLER
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she could not have seen it if she had. Half way across her own little parlour was the extent of her natural vision. By the aid of spectacles and a steady, concentrated effort she could see the fireplace at the other end of the room, and the portrait of her deceased husband, who had been a sea-captain, and the white kitten that usually sat on the rug before the fire. To be sure she saw them very indistinctly. The picture was a hazy blue patch; which was the captain's coat; with a white patch down the middle of it, which was his waistcoat; and a yellow ball on the top of it, which was his head. It was rather an indistinct and generalized view, no doubt, but she saw it, and that was a great comfort.
