f the cuts
from the "Sunday in London:"--

I.

"The poor man's sins are glaring;
In the face of ghostly warning
He is caught in the fact
Of an overt act,
Buying greens on Sunday morning.

II.

"The rich man's sins are hidden
In the pomp of wealth and station,
And escape the sight
Of the children of light,
Who are wise in their generation.

III.

"The rich man has a kitchen,
And cooks to dress his dinner;
The poor who would roast,
To the baker's must post,
And thus becomes a sinner.

IV.

"The rich man's painted windows
Hide the concerts of the quality;
The poor can but share
A crack'd fiddle in the air,
Which offends all sound morality.

V.

"The rich man has a cellar,
And a ready butler by him;
The poor must steer
For his pint of beer
Where the saint can't choose but spy him.

VI.

"This rich man is invisible
In the crowd of his gay society;
But the poor man's delight
Is a sore in the sight
And a stench in the nose of piety."

Against dandy footmen he is particularly severe. He hates idlers,
pretenders, boasters, and punishes these fellows as best he may. Who
does not recollect the famous picture, "What IS taxes, Thomas?" What
is taxes indeed; well may that vast, over-fed, lounging flunky ask the
question of his associate Thomas: and yet not well, for all that Thomas
says in reply is, "I DON'T KNOW." "O beati PLUSHICOLAE," what a charming
state of ignorance is yours! In the "Sketch-Book" many footmen make
their appearance: one is a huge fat Hercules of a Portman Square porter,
who calmly surveys another poor fellow, a porter likewise, but out of
livery, who comes staggering forward with a box that Hercules might lift
with his little finger. Will Hercules do so? not he. The giant can carry
nothing heavier than a cocked-hat note on a silver tray, and his labors
are to walk from his sentry-box to the door, and from the door back to
his sentry-box, and to read the Sunday paper, and to poke the hall
fire twice or thrice, and to make five meals