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I like to meet a sweep -- uand me -- not a grown sweeper -- old ey-sweepers are by no means attractive -- but one of those tender novices, blooming through their first nigritude, the maternal washings not quite effaced from the cheek -- such as e forth with the dawn, or somewhat earlier, with their little professional notes sounding like the peep peep of a young sparrow; or liker to the matin lark should I pronouhem, in their aerial asts not seldom anticipating the sun-rise?I have a kindly yearning towards these dim specks -- poor blots -- i blaesses -
I reverehese young Afris of our own growth -- these almost clergy imps, who sport their cloth without assumption; and from their little pulpits (the tops of eys), in the nipping air of a December m, preach a lesson of patieo mankind.
When a child, what a mysterious pleasure it was to witheir operation! to see a chit no bigger than ones-self enter, one knew not by rocess, into what seemed the fauces Averni -- to pursue him in imagination, as he went sounding on through so many dark stifling c?99lｉb?averns, horrid shades -- to shudder with the idea that "now, surely, he must be lost for ever! " -- to revive at hearing his feeble shout of discovered day-light -- and then (O fulness of delight) running out of doors, to e just in time to see the sable phenomenon emerge in safety, the brandished on of his art victorious like some flag waved over a quered citadel! I seem to remember haviold, that a bad sweep was once left in a stack with his brush, to indicate which way the wind blew. It was an awful spectacle certainly; not mulike the old stage dire in Macbeth, where the "Apparition of a child ed with a tree in his hand rises."
Reader, if thou meetest one of these small gentry in thy early rambles, it is good to give him a penny. It is better to give him two-pence. If it be starviher, and to the proper troubles of his hard occupation, a pair of kibed heels (no unusual apa) be superadded, the demand on thy humanity will surely rise to a tester.
There is a position, the ground-work of which I have uood to be the sweet wood `yclept sassafras. This wood boiled down to a kind of tea, and tempered with an infusion of milk and sugar, hath to some tastes a delicacy beyond the a luxury. I know not how thy palate may relish it; for myself, with every defereo the judir. Read, who hath time out of mi open a shop (the only one he avers in London) for the vending of this "wholesome and pleasant beverage, on the south side of Fleet-street, as thou approachest Bridge-street -- the only Salopian house, -- I have never yet adveo dip my own particular lip in a basin of his ended ingredient -- a cautious premonition to the olfactories stantly whispering to me, that my stomach must infallibly, with all due courtesy, dee it. Yet I have seen palates, otherwise not uninstructed iical elegances, sup it up with avidity.
I know not by articular ation of the an it happens, but I have always found that this position is surprisingly gratifying to the palate of a young ey-sweeper --- whether the oily particles (sassafras is slightly oleaginous) do attenuate and soften the fuliginous cretions, which are sometimes found (in disses) to adhere to the roof of the mouth in these unfledged practitioners or whether Nature, sensible that she had mioo much of bitter wood i of these raw victims, caused to grow out of the earth her sassafras for a sweet lenitive but so it is, that no possible taste or odour to the senses of a young ey-sweeper vey a delicate excitement parable to this mixture. Being penniless, they will yet hang their black heads over the asding steam, to gratify one sense if possible, seemingly no less pleased than those domestiimals -- cats -- when they purr over a new-found sprig of valerian. There is something more in these sympathies than philosophy inculcate.
Now albeit Mr. Read boasteth, not without reason, that his is the only Salopion house; yet he it known to thee, reader -- if thou art one who keepest what are called good hours, thou art haply ignorant of the fact -- he hath a race of industrious imitators, who from stalls, and under open sky, dispehe same savoury mess to humbler ers, at that dead time of the dawn, when (as extremes meet) the rake, reeling home from his midnight cups, and the hard- handed artisan leaving his bed to resume the premature labours of the day, jostle, not unfrequently to the ma discerting of the former, for the honours of the pavement. It is the time when, in summer, between the expired and the not yet relumined kit- fires, the kennels of our fair metropolis give forth their least satisfactory odours. The rake, who wisheth to dissipate his ht vapours in mrateful coffee, curses the ungenial fume, as he passeth; but the artisan stops to taste, and blesses the fragrant breakfast.
This is Saloop -- the precocious herb-womans darling -- the delight of the early gardener, who transports his smoking cabbages by break of day from Hammersmith to t-gardens famed piazzas -- the delight, and, oh I fear, too often the envy, of the unpennied sweep. Him shouldest thou haply enter, with his dim visage pe over the grateful steam, regale him with a sumptuous basin (it will cost thee but three halfpennies) and a slice of delicate bread and butter (an added halfpenny) -- so may thy ary fires, eased of the oer-charged secretions from thy worse-placed hospitalities, curl up a lighter volume to the welkin -- so may the desding soot aint thy costly well-ingredienced soups -- nor the odious cry, quick-reag from street to street, of the fired ey, ihe rattling engines from ten adjat parishes, to disturb for a casual stillation thy pead pocket!
I am by nature extremely susceptible of street affronts; the jeers and taunts of the populace; the low-bred triumph they display over the casual trip, or splashed stog, of a gentlema I ehe jocularity of a young sweep with something more than fiveness. In the last winter but one, pag along Cheap-side with my aced precipitation when I walk westward, a treacherous slide brought me upon my ba an instant. I scrambled up with pain and shame enough -- yet outwardly trying to face it down, as if nothing had happened -- when the roguish grin of one of these young wits entered me. There he stood, pointi with his dusky fio the mob, and to a poor woman (I suppose his mother) in particular, till the tears for the exquisiteness of the fun (so he thought it) worked themselves out at the ers of his poor red eyes, red from many a previous weeping, and soot- inflamed, yet twinkling through all with such a joy, snatched out of desolation, that Hogarth -- but Hogarth has got him already (how could he miss him?) in the March to Finchley, grinning at the pye-man -- there he stood, as he stands in the picture, irremovable, as if the jest was to last for ever -- with such a maximum of glee, and minimum of mischief, in his mirth -- for the grin of a genuine sweep hath absolutely no mali it -- that I could have been tent, if the honour of a gentleman might e, to have remained his butt and his mockery till midnight.
I am by theory obdurate to the seductiveness of what are called a fi of teeth. Every pair of rosy lips (the ladies must pardon me) is a casket, presumably holding such jewels; but, methinks, they should take leave to "air " them as frugally as possible. The fine lady, or fileman, who show me their teeth, show me bones. Yet must I fess, that from the mouth of a true sweep a display (even to ostentation) of those white and shining ossifications, strikes me as an agreeable anomaly in manners, and an allowable piece of foppery. It is, as when
A sable cloud
Turns forth her silver lining on the night.
It is like some remnan<bdi></bdi>t of gentry not quite extinct; a badge of better days; a hint of nobility -- and, doubtless, uhe obsg darkness and double night of their forlorn disguisement, oftentimes lurketh good blood, ale ditions, derived from lost ary, and a lapsed pedigree. The premature appres of these tender victims give but too mucement, I fear, to destine, and almost infantile abdus; the seeds of civility and true courtesy, so often disible in these young grafts (not otherwise to be ated for) plainly hint at some forced adoptions; many noble Rachels m for their children, even in our days, tehe fact; the tales of fairy-spiriting may shadow a lamentable verity, and the recovery of the young Montagu be but a solitary instance of good fortune, out of many irreparable and hopeless defiliations.
In one of the state-beds at Arundel castle, a few years sinder a ducal opy -- (that seat of the Howards is an object of curiosity to visitors, chiefly for its beds, in which the late duke was especially a oisseur) encircled with curtains of delicatest crimson, with starry ets inwoven -- folded between a pair of sheets whiter and softer than the lap where Venus lulled Asius was discovered by ce, after all methods of search had failed, at noon-day, fast asleep, a lost ey-sweeper. The little creature, having somehow founded his passage among the intricacies of those lordly eys, by some unknoerture had alighted upon this magnifit chamber; and, tired with his tedious explorations, was uo resist the delicious i to repose, which he there saw exhibited; so, creepiween the sheets very quietly, laid his black head upon the pillow, and slept. like a young Howard.
Such is the at given to the visitors at the Castle. -- But I ot help seeming to perceive a firmation of what I have just hi in this story. A high instinct was at work in the case, or I am mistaken. Is it probable that a poor child of that description, with whatever weariness he might be visited, would have ventured, under such a penalty, as he would be taught to expect, to uhe sheets of a Dukes bed, and deliberately to lay himself dowween them, when the rug, or the carpet, presented an obvious couch, still far above his pretension -- is this probable, I would ask, if the great power of nature, which I tend for, had not been maed within him, prompting to the adventure? Doubtless this young nobleman (for such my mind misgives me that he must be) was allured by some memory, not amounting to full sciousness, of his dition in infancy, when be was used to be lapt by his mother, or his nurse, in just such sheets as he there found, into which he was now but creeping back as into his proper inabula, aing-place. -- By no other theory, than by this se of a pre-existent state (as I may call it), I explain a deed so venturous, and, indeed, any other system, so indecorous, in this tender, but unseasonable sleeper.
My pleasant friend Jem White was so impressed with a belief of metamorphoses like this frequently taking place, that in some sort to reverse the wrongs of fortune in these poor gelings, he instituted an annual feast of ey-sweepers, at which it was his pleasure to officiate as host and waiter. It was a solemn supper held in Smithfield, upon the yearly return of the fair of St. Bartholomew. Cards were issued a week before to the master-sweeps in and about the metropolis, fining the invitation to their younger fry. Now and then an elderly stripling would get in among us, and be good-naturedly wi; but our main body were infantry. One unfortunate wight, indeed, who, relying upon his dusky suit, had intruded himself into our party, but by tokens rovidentially discovered in time to be no ey.sweeper (all is not soot which looks so), was quoited out of the preseh universal indignation, as not having on the wedding garment; but in general the greatest harmony prevailed. The place chosen was a ve spot among the pens, at the north side of the fair, not so far distant as to be impervious to the agreeable hub-hub of that vanity; but remote enough not to be obvious to the interruption of every gaping spectator in it. The guests assembled about seven. In those little temporary parlours three tables were spread with napery, not so fine as substantial, and at every board a ely hostess presided with her pan of hissing sausages. The nostrils of the young rogues dilated at the savour. James White, as head waiter, had charge of the first table; and myself, with our trusty panion Bigod, ordinarily ministered to the other two. There was clambering and jostling, you may he sure, who should get at the first table -- for Rochester in his maddest days could not have dohe humours of the se with more spirit than my friend. After some general expression of thanks for the honour the pany had done him, his inaugural ceremony was to clasp the greasy waist of old dame Ursula (the fattest of the three), that sto and fretting, half-blessing, half-cursing "the gentleman," and imprint upon her chaste lips a tender salute, whereat the universal host would set up a shout that tore the cave, while hundreds of grinnih startled the night with their brightness. O it leasure to see the sable younkers li the uneat, with his more unctuous sayings -- how he would fit the tit bits to the puny mouths, reserving the lengthier links for the seniors -- how he would intercept a morsel even in the jaws of some young desperado, declaring it "must to the pan again to be browned, for it was not fit fentlemaing" -- how he would reend this slice of white bread, or that piece of kissing-crust, to a tender juvenile, advising them all to have a care of crag their teeth, which were their best patrimony, how genteelly he would deal about the small ale, as if it were wine, naming the brewer, and protesting, if it were not good, he should lose their ; with a special reendation to wipe the lip before drinking. Then we had our toasts -- " The King," -- the "Cloth," -- which, whether they uood or not, was equally diverting and flattering; -- and for a iiment, whiever failed, "May the Brush supersede the Laurel!" All these, and fifty other fancies, which were rather felt than prehended by his guests, would he utter, standing upon tables, and prefag every se with a "Gentlemen, give me leave to propose so and so," which rodigious fort to those young orphans; every now and then st<big>.</big>uffing into his mouth (for it did not do to be squeamish on these occasions) indiscriminate pieces of those reeking sausages, which pleased them mightily, and was the savouriest part, you may believe, of the eai.
Golden lads and lasses must,
As ey-sweepers, e to dust -
James White is extinct, and with him these suppers have long ceased. He carried away with him half the fun of the world when he died -- of my world at least. His old ts look for him among the pens; and, missing him, reproach the altered feast of St. Bartholomew, and the glory of Smithfield departed for ever.
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