A police-serjeant, from whom we have obtained much valuable information relative to the poverty, mendicity, immorality, and crime in London, one day informed us that he knew of two sisters, both single women, who were confined at about the same time, and who took it by turns to go out with the children. They passed the babies off as twins, and made upon an average seven shillings a day by this imposture. The money was spent in riotous living and debauchery, in the evening, along with their flash men, who existed in complete idleness, living, however, far better than many a poor tradesman. One evening, the police-serjeant above alluded to had occasion to visit the room which the sisters occupied at one of Thompson's houses in Castle Street (a robbery having been committed in the dwelling), and he found the two young women and their paramours at supper. On the table were a baked shoulder of mutton and potatoes, two quarts of porter, and a bottle of gin. One of the sisters is at the present moment a prostitute in Fleet Street. Footnote 4: All the characters just depicted are real ones. Some of them are still about town. Footnote 5: A notorious fence living in Liquorpond Street. Footnote 6: A flash public-house at the corner of Laurence Lane, St. Giles's. Footnote 7: A fence living in Belson Street. Footnote 8: A stick-maker, and a noted fence, living in Coach and Horses Yard, Drury Lane. CHAPTER XXV. MATILDA, THE COUNTRY-GIRL. In the meantime Jane Cummins had been using all her eloquence for the purpose of inducing Matilda Briggs, the poor labourer's daughter, to become as bad as herself. "You don't know what a pleasant life we lead," she repeated, when she had drawn the girl aside to the window. "Quin—my man—earns lots of money—and we know how to spend it. To-night we'd a roast loin of pork and apple-sauce for supper at a slap-up eating-house: then we'd some rum-and-water: and then we came home here. Look how Quin's enjoying himself with that egg-hot. Isn't he a capital fellow to be able to get so much money—and all so easy too? and don't you think I'm happy to have nothing to do but to help him spend it?" Again the young woman struggled fruitlessly to keep down a sigh; for—in reality—she loathed, she abhorred the life which she was leading. "And what do you suppose will become of you and your father and mother?" she continued. "Why—if it wasn't for that good-natured fellow Josh Pedler you'd have all been turned out last night into the streets. And when the woman came in just now to collect the three-pences, didn't he take and pay for you and the old people? And didn't he give you all the grub you had to-day?" "Why do you speak so much about _him_?" asked the country-girl.