by habitual drunkenness--men reeling and staggering along--children
in rags and filth--whole streets of squalid and miserable
appearance, whose inhabitants are lounging in the public road,
fighting, screaming, and swearing--these are the common objects
which present themselves in, these are the well-known
characteristics of, that portion of London to which I have just
referred.

And why is it, that all well-disposed persons are shocked, and
public decency scandalised, by such exhibitions?

These people are poor--that is notorious. It may be said that they
spend in liquor, money with which they might purchase necessaries,
and there is no denying the fact; but let it be remembered that
even if they applied every farthing of their earnings in the best
possible way, they would still be very--very poor. Their dwellings
are necessarily uncomfortable, and to a certain degree unhealthy.
Cleanliness might do much, but they are too crowded together, the
streets are too narrow, and the rooms too small, to admit of their
ever being rendered desirable habitations. They work very hard all
the week. We know that the effect of prolonged and arduous labour,
is to produce, when a period of rest does arrive, a sensation of
lassitude which it requires the application of some stimulus to
overcome. What stimulus have they? Sunday comes, and with it a
cessation of labour. How are they to employ the day, or what
inducement have they to employ it, in recruiting their stock of
health? They see little parties, on pleasure excursions, passing
through the streets; but they cannot imitate their example, for
they have not the means. They may walk, to be sure, but it is
exactly the inducement to walk that they require. If every one of