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 caverns, 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 o