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Rather a dirty, disagreeable trade, my WIDE AWAKE readers may think; but let us not forget that a great part of Dickens' early life was spent in work just as lowly as this. I don't know that he ever actually blacked boots for a living, but I do know that with other poor boys (in ragged aprons and paper caps), he used to paste labels upon blacking bottles.

After all, it isn't so much what we do as how we do it; and the little bootblack who does his work faithfully, is worthy of far more honor than the better dressed, but idle, thoughtless boys, who stoop to make fun of his smutty fingers.

THE FLOWER-VENDERS.

Beautiful Fresh Pond -- blue and sparkling in the summer sunlight, -- far behind the city spires and the glittering dome of the State House, -- and, here, just in the fore-ground of our picture, five little barefoot boys with hats thrown back, and ragged pants rolled up to their knees.

"My! Ain't it nice and cool, though!" exclaimed Tommy.

"And ain't them lilies just 'stunners'!" echoed little, freckled-faced Ned.

They have had a long, hot tramp from the city this morning, but that is all forgotten now. O, that cool, beautiful water! The boys are almost tempted to take a "plunge"; but time is precious, pennies must be earned, and there are the great creamy lilies all ready for the first picker.

"If we only had a boat now," sighs little Jack.

"Pooh! who wants a boat, as can wade like a duck! Look'ee here, boys, I'll be cap'n and you foller!" shouts Tommy, suiting the action to the word.

And so the procession moves on, with many frightened cries from little Jack, who lags behind, and somehow manages to fall into all the muddy places! But now the boys are knee-deep in the water, and although the very biggest lilies and the very pinkest buds always do seem to be just out of reach, and although many a dainty blossom near at hand snaps its long stem in the pulling, not many minutes have passed before each little fellow has his arms full of the fragrant "water queens."

O, how fresh and pretty they are! No wonder the sick lady who sees them from her carriage wants a handful, and bids her coachman call the boys. Tommy is the first to hear -- he is always first in everything! -- and before the other boys are out of the water, he has scrambled through the bushes, reached the lady's carriage, and sold all his lilies, at a cent apiece!

But now he has none to carry back to the city, and .the other boys -- a little jealous of Tommy's success -- will not wait for him to gather more. The little fellow, however, is equal to the occasion. With twenty-five cents in his pocket, he feels quite rich enough to buy at wholesale; and since "a bird in the hand is always worth two in the bush," Ned, Jack, Michael and Teddy each agree to sell him a few of their lilies at a very low figure. So the bunches and the pennies are pretty equally divided, and the five boys, in the best of humor again, start off together for the city. Oh dear! how fast the beautiful blossoms wither!

"We'll hev' to hev' a tub or a pail to put 'em in, just as soon as ever we can!" says little Jack.

"Umph! I mean to sell mine 'fore they need a tub!" says Ned.

"So do I, but then you see I mightn't, after all!" says Jack, who has a large bump of caution, and is rather apt to look upon the dark side.

The boys sell, however, a few more of their lilies, on the way back; and when they separate at Bowdoin Square little Jack feels quite encouraged. He and Ned are going up and down Washington Street, but, first of all, he runs home for his mother's old blue floor pail.

"It'll be sort o' heavy to lug about, but thin I know it'll pay!" says Jack to himself, as he dips the drooping white beauties down into the cool, fresh water. With the brightest of lily smiles they thank him, and everybody that passes exclaims at their beauty. No fear, little Jack, but you will sell all your lilies to-day!

Tommy prefers Tremont Street. It was down by St. Paul's Church that I first saw him, but that was weeks ago when the trailing arbutus came. With an eye to effect, he had fixed his little bouquets in a fanciful manner, sticking the stems through the iron fence, so that only the pretty pink and white flowers in their evergreen circle could be seen.

"Fresh Plymouth May flowers, only ten cents a bunch!"

Such a clear, shrill voice, and such a bright little face! He had sold a dollar's worth already, but early in the day the bunches had brought fifteen and twenty cents apiece. Then, he was only Mr. Somebody's agent, but now that the lilies have come he is selling for himself.

"Yer see, m'am," he exclaimed, "May flowers can't be got round here. They pick 'em down to Plymouth and the Cape- where the pink pond lilies come from, yer know, -- and sometimes they git a few of these 'butus flowers at Marshfield and Scituate. I s'pose boys there git five cents a bunch for 'em, thin they're sint up to Boston by express, all wrapped up in cotton (the flowers I mean not the boys!) and the big florists buy 'em."