Dust or ash this chap calls out, With all his might and main, He's got a mighty cinder heap Somewhere near Gray's Inn Lane. [Illustration] BUY A BONNET BOX OR CAP BOX Bonnet boxes and cap boxes, The best that e'er was seen, They are so very nicely made, They'll keep your things so clean. [Illustration] ALL A GROWING AND A BLOWING. Now ladies here's roots for your gardens, Come buy some of me if you please, There's tulips, heart's-ease, and roses, Sweet Williams, and sweet peas. [Illustration] ANY OLD POTS OR KETTLES TO MEND? Any old pots or kettles, Or any old brass to mend Come my pretty maids all, To me your aid must lend. [Illustration] ANY OLD CHAIRS TO MEND? Any old chairs to mend? Any old chairs to seat? I'll make them quite as good as new, And make them look so neat. THE LONDON STREET-MARKETS ON A SATURDAY NIGHT. Mr. Henry Mayhew has painted a minute yet vivid picture of the London street markets, street sellers and purchasers which are to be seen in the greatest number on a Saturday night:-- "Here, and in the streets immediately adjoining, the working classes generally purchase their Sunday's dinner; and after pay-time on Saturday night, or early on Sunday morning, the crowd in the New-cut, and the Brill in particular, is almost impassable. Indeed, the scene in these parts has more the character of a fair than a market. There are hundreds of stalls, and every stall has its one or two lights; either it is illuminated by the intense white light of the new self-generating gas-lamp, or else it is brightened up by the red smoky flame of the old-fashioned grease-lamp. One man shows off his yellow haddock with a candle stuck in a bundle of firewood; his neighbour makes a candlestick of a huge turnip, and the tallow gutters over its sides; whilst the boy shouting "Eight a penny, stunning pears!" has rolled his dip in a thick coat of brown paper, that flares away with the candle. Some stalls are crimson with the fire shining through the holes beneath the baked chesnut stove; others have handsome octohedral lamps, while a few have a candle shining through a sieve; these, with the sparkling ground-glass globes of the tea-dealers' shops, and the butchers' gaslights streaming and fluttering in the wind, like flags of flame, pour forth such a flood of light, that at a distance the atmosphere immediately above the spot is as lurid as if the street were on fire. [Illustration: A STREET-MARKET ON SATURDAY NIGHT.]