Once upon a time, in a snug little cottage by a brook under a hill,
lived an old widow and her only child. She was a tidy, pleasant-faced
dame, was "Old Mother Growser;" and as to her boy, there wasn't a
brighter lad of his age in all the village. His real name was James,
but he had always been so spry and handy that when he was a little
bit of a chap the neighbors called him "Nimble Jim." At work in the
cottage garden, or at play on the village green, even at his books
and slate, he was ever the same industrious, active "Nimble Jim," and
always a comfort to his mother.
His father had been the village cobbler, and when he died the folks
said: "Who'll mend our shoes now, and auld Jamie gone?"