MOTHER AND DAUGHTER A London night in the first quarter of the eighteenth century had very little rest.

Until long past midnight a noisy, lawless, drunken rabble made the streets hideous.

It was quite three o'clock, when as physiologists tell us the vital forces are at their lowest, before it could be said that the city was asleep.

And that sleep did not last long.

Soon the creaking of market cart and waggon wheels, the shouts of drovers and waggoners, tramping horses, bellowing cattle and bleating sheep would dispel the stillness and proclaim the beginning of another day.
Business in the approaches to the markets was in full swing before four o'clock.