text:  No neat serving-wenches chattering on the area steps--not even a barrel-organ to blow out one's patience--no vagabond on stilts with a pipe and dancing-dogs--no Punch--no nothing!--Once a ruffian with four _babbies_ two in his arms and two more at his ankles strolled down the street chanting--"In Jury is God known"--his hat off and the rain streaming down at his nose as from a gable-spout