YOUNG WATER-CRESSES!
The morn has been proclaimed with “Sweep! Soot oh!” The inmate of the downy bed has turned again to slumber—then follows “Milk!” and now comes “Water-cresses!” ’Tis half-past eight; all are up, the door is mopped, and Betty runs to get the usual penny for the poor old dame in Milbank, Westminster. From here we obtain a good view of