Geraniums, in dresses of scarlet and green; Thick aloes, that blossom so rarely; The long creeping cereus with prickles so keen; Or primroses modest and early. The myrtle dark green, and the jessamine pale, Sweet scented and gracefully flowing, This flower-man carries and offers for sale, “_All flourishing_, _growing_, _and blowing_!” 79. The Waterman, the Ticket Porter, and Fellowship Porter. [Picture: The Waterman, the Ticket Porter, and Fellowship Porter] The privilege of working as a waterman on the river Thames, is only to be obtained by servitude or birth-right; and freemen only can work as porters in the city, for which they wear a ticket as a badge of privilege, and on which their names are stamped and numbered; but the privilege of bringing salt, fish, coals, fruit, and other goods on shore, from ships, boats, or barges, belongs to the Company of Fellowship Porters. All the firemen in London must be watermen or lightermen. 80. The Coach-stand. [Picture: The Coach-stand] Nothing can exceed the noise, bustle, and hurry, of the streets of London, where carriages are passing backward and forward during the whole day, and most of the night. Carts are creaking under heavy loads of merchandise, mail-coaches are driving to and from the post-office with the letter-bags, and more than a thousand hackney-coaches and chariots are sometimes in motion at once on a rainy day. These are a great convenience in London; for, to whatever part of the town you may wish to go, you have only to beckon to a coachman, and He’ll drive you home quickly, and when you are there, You have nothing to do but to pay him his _fare_. That gentleman and lady have called to a coachman to take them home; and the waterman, who attends on hackney-coaches and their employers, seems to be enquiring where they are going. We would recommend every person who hires a hackney coach in London, to notice what number is on the door, which, on many occasions, has been found very useful. I am an old coachman, and drive a good hack, With a coat of five capes that quite covers my back; And my wife keeps a sausage-shop, not many miles From the narrowest alley in all broad St. Giles’. What tho’ at a tavern my gentleman tarries, Why, the coachman grows richer than he whom he carries; And I’d rather, says I, since it keeps me from sin, Be the driver without, than the toper within. And tho’ I’m a coachman, I freely confess, I beg of my Maker my labours to bless; I praise him each morning, and pray ev’ry night, And ’tis this makes my heart feel so cheerful and light. 81. New Milk from the Cow. [Picture: New milk from the cow]