nce of John Barleycorn to admit of a doubt, his broom between
his legs, and his back against his abstinent friend the post. Somehow,
whenever this happens, Mrs G. is sure to hear of it, and she walks him
off quietly, that the spectacle of a sweeper overtaken may not bring a
disgrace upon the profession; and then, broom in hand, she takes her
stand, and does his duty for the remainder of the day. The receipts of
the professional sweeper do not vary throughout the year so much as
might be supposed. They depend very little upon chance contributions:
these, there is no doubt, fall off considerably, if they do not fail
altogether, during a continuance of dry weather, when there is no need
of the sweeper's services; but the man is remunerated chiefly by
regular donations from known patrons, who form his connection, and
who, knowing that he must eat and drink be the weather wet or dry,
bestow their periodical pittances accordingly.

No. 2 is the _Morning Sweeper_.--This is rather a knowing subject,
one, at least, who is capable of drawing an inference from certain
facts. There are numerous lines of route, both north and south of the
great centres of commerce, and all converging towards the city as
their nucleus, which are traversed, morning and evening, for two or
three consecutive hours, by bands of gentlemanly-looking individuals:
clerks, book-keepers, foremen, business-managers, and such like
responsible functionaries, whose unimpeachable outer integuments
testify to their regard for appearances. This current of
respectability sets in towards the city at about half-past six in the
morning, and continues its flow until just upon ten o'clock, when it
may be said to be highwater. Though a large proportion of these agents
of the world's traffic are daily borne to and from their destination
in omnibuses, still the great majority, either for the sake of
exercise or economy, are foot-passengers. For the accommodation of the
latter, the crossing-sweeper stations himself upon the dirtiest
portion of the route, and clearing a broad and convenient path ere the
sun is out of bed, awaits the inevitable tide, which must flow, and
which can hardly fail of bringing him some remuneration for his
labour. If we are to judge from the fact, that along one line of route
which we have been in the habit of traversing for several years, we
have counted as many as fourteen of these morning sweepers in a march
of little more than two miles, the specu