arternoon, but what
hussies must be a comin', and 'ticing avay her oun' 'usband, as she's
been married to twelve year come next Easter Monday, for I see the
certificate ven I vas a drinkin' a cup o' tea vith her, only the werry
last blessed Ven'sday as ever was sent. I 'appen'd to say promiscuously,
"Mrs. Sulliwin," says I--'

'What do you mean by hussies?' interrupts a champion of the other party,
who has evinced a strong inclination throughout to get up a branch fight
on her own account ('Hooroar,' ejaculates a pot-boy in parenthesis, 'put
the kye-bosk on her, Mary!'), 'What do you mean by hussies?' reiterates
the champion.

'Niver mind,' replies the opposition expressively, 'niver mind; _you_ go
home, and, ven you're quite sober, mend your stockings.'

This somewhat personal allusion, not only to the lady's habits of
intemperance, but also to the state of her wardrobe, rouses her utmost
ire, and she accordingly complies with the urgent request of the
bystanders to 'pitch in,' with considerable alacrity. The scuffle became
general, and terminates, in minor play-bill phraseology, with 'arrival of
the policemen, interior of the station-house, and impressive
_denouement_.'

In addition to the numerous groups who are idling about the gin-shops and
squabbling in the centre of the road, every post in the open space has
its occupant, who leans against it for hours, with listless perseverance.
It is odd enough that one class of men in London appear to have no
enjoyment beyond leaning against posts. We never saw a regular
bricklayer's labourer take any other recreation, fighting excepted. Pass
through St. Giles's in the evening of a week-day, there they are in their
fustian dresses, spotted with brick-dust and whitewash, leaning against
posts. Walk through Seven Dials on Sunday morning: there they are again,
drab or light corduroy trousers, Blucher boots, blue coats, and great
yellow waistcoats, leaning against posts. The idea of a man dressing
himself in his best clothes, to lean against a post all day!

The peculiar character of these streets, and the close resemblance each
one bears to its neighbour, by no means tends to decrease the
bewilderment in which the unexperienced wayfarer through 'the Dials'
finds himself involved. He traverses streets of dirty, straggling
houses, with now and then an unexpected court composed of buildings as
ill-proportioned and deformed as the half-naked children that wallow in
the