notices the enormous column of black smoke which is emitted from
their premises at the dawn, of the morning.

Another animal _sui generis_, occasionally visible about the same
cock-crowing season, is the parliamentary reporter, shuffling to
roost, and a more slovenly-looking operative from sunrise to sunset
is rarely to be seen. There has probably been a double debate, and
between three and five o'clock he has written "a column _bould_."
No one can well mistake him. The features are often Irish, the
gait jaunty or resolutely brisk, but neither "buxom, blithe, nor
debonnair," complexion wan, expression pensive, and the entire
propriety of the toilette disarranged and _degagée_. The stuff that
he has perpetrated is happily no longer present to his memory, and
neither placeman's sophistry nor patriot's rant will be likely in
any way to interfere with his repose. Intense fatigue, whether
intellectual or manual, however, is not the best security for sound
slumber at any hour, more particularly in the morning.

Even at this hour the swart Savoyard (_filius nullius_) issues forth
on his diurnal pilgrimage, "remote, unfriended, melancholy, slow," to
excruciate on his superannuated hurdy-gurdy that sublime melody, "the
hundred and seventh psalm," or the plaintive sweetness of "Isabel,"
perhaps speculating on a breakfast for himself and Pug, somewhere
between Knightsbridge and Old Brentford. Poor fellow! Could he
procure a few bones of mutton, how hard would it be for his hungry
comprehension to understand the displeasure which similar objects
occasioned to Attila on the plains of Champagne!

Then the too frequent preparations for a Newgate execution--but enough
of such details; it is the muse of Mr. Crabbe that alone could do them