A TRAMP IN THE BY-WAYS.
REAT as London may believe itself to be in works of benevolence and philanthropy, there are spots in that mighty city which no one should visit without an officer of the law in his company, to warn him from the pitfalls and dangers which will beset his pathway.
One evening, feeling rather dispirited and uncomfortable, while sitting in the coffee-room of the Langham Hotel, a thought struck me that I might find amusement or novelty in some way by taking a tour through the city, and accordingly I called a cabman from the stand, in Upper Regent street, and, determining to make an effort to dissipate the blues, I jumped into the "hansom" and told the driver, an old weather-beaten looking fellow, with a buttoned-up coat and dirty neck-cloth, and wearing a black silk hat, which had once been quite respectable, but was now utterly wrecked—to "drive me anywhere in London—I don't care where as long as I can see something to interest me."
The driver, a well known character, who bore the title of "Old Smudge" among his brethren on the cab stand, and who was always in trouble with the police, replied:
"Where shall I take you, Sir? Would you like to take a look at the river? Or, mayhap you might wish to see a dog fight, or a ratting match—the Americans are partial to ratting matches—I know some on 'em are!"
"Take me anywhere," said I from the recesses of the cab in which I had ensconsced myself.
THE LONDON CABBIES.