ontent themselves with seeing London on the
outside, for neither the docks of the Thames nor the museums of the
great nobles will be opened to them!

But what matters, after all, that we are at London without any guides
but ourselves? My opinion is, that we must put a good face on it, and
see the marvels of the monster town in spite of itself.

LONDON SPARROWS.

BY CHARLES DICKENS.

How extremely plain--not to say ugly--street-children often are! Their
hard life and the characters of their parents, cause it. This child, who
is now staring in at the window upon a print of Sir Robert Peel, and
flattening his nose against the glass, has a forehead "villainous low,"
with dark eyes, and short dark hair, and his diminutive face, both in
features and expression, is uncommonly like one end of a cocoa-nut. What
a sad lot for these children to be left thus--perhaps even turned adrift
by their parents, to wander about the streets, and pick up, here and
there, a precarious crumb! And now, as I turn round, I see three others,
apparently in the same wretched outcast condition--two boys and a girl.
The elder boy seems not to care much about it; he has, no doubt, become
more accustomed to his lot. He is between twelve and thirteen. His voice
is hoarse, cracked, and discordant; perhaps by some street-cry. He has a
large projecting nose, red pulpy lips, a long chin, and a long throat,
uncovered. No collar--indeed, now, I look again, no shirt! and he wears
a greasy jacket and trowsers, both much too small for him; so that his
large red hands and wrists swollen with chilblains hang listlessly far
below the end of his sleeves; and his long, thin ankles, and large
unshapely feet are so far below the end of his trowsers, as to give the
appearance of the legs and feet of a bird. He is whistling a sort of jig
tune, and beating time with one of his heels. Poor boy!--I dare say he
would be very glad to work if he had an opportunity. A girl, of about
twelve, stands on one side of him. She is so scantily clad as to be
scarcely decent. Her shoulder-blades stick up, she is so meagre, and she
shivers with the cold. But I do not like the expression of her face;
for, though I pity her eager, hungry look, and evidently bad state of
health, I can not help seeing that she has very much the look of a
sickly rat. On the other side of the elder boy, stands a younger one--of
some ten years of age. He is very pale, and has fair hair, a rueful
mouth,