6. The Scavenger.
I am glad to see this man, whose business it is to sweep up the mud and dirt from the streets, and collect it in a cart. Surely, no part of London needs this work more than Thames Street and Billingsgate; for, even in a dry season, the narrowness of the streets, and great traffic of men and women, with fish in wet baskets, &c. keep the pavement constantly dirty. When the cart is well laden, he empties it into some waste place in the outskirts of the town, or delivers it at some wharf by the water-side; and as it proves a very rich manure, he finds it a profitable and useful occupation.
“I’m very glad ’tis not my luck
To get my bread by carting muck;
I’m sure I never could be made
To work at such a dirty trade.”“Hold, little master, not so fast,
Some proud folks get a fall at last;
And you, young gentleman, I say,
May be a scavenger, one day.
All sober folks, who seldom play,
But get their bread some honest way,
Though not to wealth or honours born,
Deserve respect instead of scorn.
Such rude contempt they merit less,
Than those who live in idleness;
Who are less useful, I’m afraid,
Than this black mud that’s in my spade.”