are grown-up men, but
generally boys about twelve or fourteen years of age. On going up to one
of these latter, what was my astonishment to find in his basket, volume
after volume of publications such as Holywell-street scarce ever dared
to exhibit; these he offered and commended with the most unblushing
effrontery. The first lad having such a collection, I thought I would
look at the others, to see if their baskets were similarly supplied; I
found them all alike without exception, I then became curious to know if
these debauched little urchins found any purchasers, and, to ascertain
the fact, I ensconced myself among some of the freight, and watched one
of them. Presently a passenger came up, and these books were brought to
his notice: he looked cautiously round, and, thinking himself
unobserved, he began to examine them. The lad, finding the bait had
taken, then looked cautiously round on his side, and stealthily drew two
more books from his breast, evidently of the same kind, and it is
reasonable to suppose infinitely worse. After a careful examination of
the various volumes, the passenger pulled out his purse, paid his money,
and walked off with eight of these Holywell-street publications, taking
them immediately into his cabin. I saw one or two more purchasers,
before I left my concealment. And now I may as well observe, that the
sale of those works is not confined to one place; wherever I went on
board a steamer, I was sure to find boys with baskets of books, and
among them many of the kind above alluded to. In talking to an American
gentleman on this subject, he told me that it was indeed but too common
a practice, although by law nominally prohibited; and he further added,
that once asking a vendor why he had such blackguard books which nobody
would buy, he took up one of the worst, and said, "Why, sir, this book
is so eagerly sought after, that I have the utmost difficulty in keeping
up the requisite supply." It is a melancholy reflection, that in a
country where education is at every one's door, and poverty at no one's,
such unblushing exhibitions of immorality should exist.

We embarked in the "Lady Franklin," and were soon "floating down the
river of the O-hi-o." The banks are undulating, and prettily
interspersed with cottage villas, which peep out from the woods, and are
clotted about the more cultivated parts; but, despite this, the dreary
mantle of winter threw a cold churlishness over everything. The boa