The want of a Child's Hospital in London is supplied. The Hospital for Sick Children, lately established and now open, is situated in Great Ormond-street, Queen-square. London, like a fine old oak, that has lived through some centuries, has its dead bits in the midst of foliage. When we had provided ourselves with the address of the Child's Hospital, and found it to be No. 49 Great Ormond-street, Queen-square, we were impressed with a sense of its being very far out of the way. Great Ormond-street belonged to our great-grandfathers; it was a bit of London full of sap a great number of years ago. It is cut off, now, from the life of the town--in London, but not of it--a suburb left between the New Road and High Holborn. We turned out of the rattle of Holborn into King-street, and went up Southampton-row through a short passage which led us into a square, dozing over its own departed greatness. Solitude in a crowd is acknowledged by the poets to be extremely oppressive, and we felt so much scared in Queen-square at finding ourselves all alone there, that we had not enough presence of mind to observe more than space and houses, and (if our vague impression be correct) a pump. Moreover, there were spectral streets, down which the eye was drawn. Great Ormond-street was written on a corner house in one of them. It was the enchanter's label by which we were bidden forward; so we went into Great Ormond-street--wondering who lived in its large houses, some of them mansions--and looking hazily for No. 49. That was a mansion too broad, stuccoed front, quite fresh and white, bearing the inscription on its surface, "Hospital for Sick Children." A woman with a child in her arms was finding ready admission at the great hall-door. The neat and new appearance of the hospital walls from the outside, restored our thoughts to our own day; and we presently resolved, and carried, that the committee had shown great judgment in their selection of a situation--quiet (very quiet), airy, and central. At the hall-door there was a porter, so new to his new work that the name of a surgeon to the institution was a strange sound in his ears. Crossing a spacious hall, we were ushered into a fine old ancestral parlor, which is now the board-room of the institution; and there, before a massive antique chimney-piece, we found a young house-surgeon.