ries of the few sailor-looking men who may still be seen loitering
at the several "stairs;" we shall learn that not many years since these
narrow outlets were the marts of a thriving employment, and that there
crowds of independent and privileged watermen plied successfully for
fares. These places are now forsaken, and the men have lost their
occupation. Some still ply; and the cry at a few stairs, of "Boat, your
honour?" may still be heard. Others have been draughted into situations
connected with the boat companies, which support them during the summer
months. A large number swell the crowds of day-labourers, who frequent
the legal quays, the sufferance wharves, and the docks. And the rest,
unfitted by their age or habits to compete with labourers accustomed to
the other fields of occupation, sink lower and lower; sustained for a
time by the helping hands of comrades and old patrons, but at last
obliged to seek a refuge at the parish workhouse. Death also does his
part. At Paul's Wharf stairs, a few inches above high-water mark, a few
shrubs have been planted against the river wall--and above them is a
small board, rudely cut, and on it are inscribed these words,--"To the
memory of old Browny, who departed this life, August, 26, 1846." Let us
stroll to the coach offices. Here again we see a great change--great to
the common eye of the public, who miss a raree show, and a still greater
one to the hundreds and thousands of human beings whose subsistence
depended upon the work done at those places. A few years ago, the reader
may have formed one of a large group of spectators, collected at the
"Peacock" at Islington, to witness the departure of the night mails, on
the high north road. The cracking of whips, the blowing of horns, the
prancing horses, the bustle of passengers and porters, and the
consciousness of the long dreary distance they had to go, exercised an
enduring influence upon the imagination and memory of the youthful
observer. Now, a solitary slow coach may be sometimes seen. In those
days, all the outlets of the metropolis presented similar scenes. Then
call to remembrance the business transacted in those numerous, large,
old-fashioned, square-galleried inn-yards; and reflect upon the hundreds
who have been thrown out of bread. The high-roads and the way-side inns
are now forsaken and silent. These remarks are not made merely to show
that there is an analogy between the several districts and employments
in th