"A well-known figure, or part of the figure of a man, who used to guide his upper half over the pavements of London, wheeling along with most ingenious celerity upon a machine of wood.... He was of a robust make, with a florid sailor-like complexion, and his head was bare to the storm and sunshine.... The accident which brought him low, took place during the riots of 1780."

Is this all that is known of this half-giant?

When the old Houses of Parliament were standing, there used to be at one of the entrances a dwarf, long past middle age, who persisted in offering his services as a guide. His countenance was full of grave wisdom, quite Socratic in expression; but, I believe, he was an idiot. Does anything of interest attach to the remembrance of him?

And, lastly, not to "stretch the line out to the crack of doom," what became of Billy Waters? Do these street heroes die the death of common men—in bed, and with friends near them; or do they generally find their fate at last in the workhouse or the gaol; and get buried no one knows when, or by whom, or where?

I cannot agree with Mr. Dickens, that "no one knows for certain" about such persons, "because no one cares." Indeed, Mr. D.'s philosophy and practice are at variance in this matter. He makes his own sketch of "the little mad old woman," because he feels that it will interest. How much more would the original, could we get at it! But the truth is, these people are as mysterious as the fireman's dog. They "come like shadows, so depart:" leaving behind them on many minds ineffaceable impressions. Indeed, some of us could confess with shame, that the feathered cocked hat and fiddle of Billy Waters had survived the memory of a thousand things of real importance: which could hardly be, were there not some psychological force in these street characters—an inexplicable interest and attraction.

ALFRED GATTY.

Minor Notes.

Dean Swift on Herbert's Travels.

—In a copy, now in my library, of Herbert's Travels in Africa, Asia, &c., folio, 1634, there is a very characteristic note in the autograph of Dean Swift, to whom the book formerly belonged. Thinking that it may not be uninteresting to some of the readers of "N. & Q.," I send a copy of it:

"If this book were stript of its impertinence, conceitedness, and tedious digressions, it would be almost worth reading, and would then be two-thirds smaller than it is.