kers, dealers in pork, beef, ham, and sausages, furniture-brokers, old-clothesmen, pawnbrokers, and ginshops. When evening has closed, a number of itinerant vend ers of wares take up positions on the street, calculating on receiving their share of the Saturday-evening's spendings. Here and there are tin machines, some of them even elegantly finished off with brass mountings, each containing a fire, while the steam issues from a little pipe or funnel in each. The proprietors of these machines make the street resound with their cries of "all hot!" the objects of their sale being hot potatoes and butter, or pies. Some of them, either from the ambition of rivalry, or stimulated by the hope of profit (a hot potato and butter are sold for a halfpenny), hang little lamps of variegated colors round their machines. The barrow and basket men and women shield their candles from the wind by lanterns of tinted paper. Up to twelve o'clock the street has a most animated, nay, a brilliant appearance. Fam ilies that, from the nature or the remuneration of their occupations, can not dine together but once a week, are now busily occupied in getting something comfortable" for the next day's dinner. It might be a scene of unmixed enjoyment to him who can sympathize with the humblest of his fellows, were it not for drawbacks. The ginshops get too large a share, in some cases, of the week's wages.

Before the "west end" had sprung into existence as an actual second London, Ludgate hill was a great resort of the ladies when they went out "a-shopping." In the "Female Tattler," of 1709, it is said: "This afternoon some ladies, having an opinion of my fancy in clothes, desired me to accompany them to Ludgate hill, which I take to be as agreeable an amusement as a lady can pass away three or four hours in. The shops are perfect gilded theatres, the variety of wrought silks, so many changes of fine scenes, and the mercers are the performers in the opera; and instead of vivitur ingenio,' you have, in gold capitals, No trust by retail.' They are the sweetest, fairest, nicest, dished-out creatures, and by their elegant address and soft speeches, you would guess them to be Italians. As people glance within their doors, they salute you with garden silks, ladies' Italian silks, brocades, tissues, cloth of silver or cloth of gold, very fine mantua silks, right Geneva velvet, English velvet, velvet embossed.' And to the meaner sort, 'fine thread satins, both striped and plain, fine mohair silk, satinets, burdets, Persianets, Norwich crapes, anterines, silks for hoods and scarfs, hair camlets, druggets, or sagathies, gentlemen's nightgowns ready made, shallons, durances, and right Scotch plaids.'

The characteristics of the principal streets of the metropolis might be summed up in a few words: Regent street, a portion of Oxford street and Piccadilly, with PallMall, St. James's street, and Bond street, for showy grandeur and elegance; the Strand, Fleet street, Ludgate hill, Cheapside, and Cornhill, for more of substance than ostentation; and Holborn for a medium between" west-end" elegance and "city" solidity. Until recently, the great distinction between the shops of the west-end and the city was, in the latter, an absence of external attractions as compared with the west-end. But now, on Ludgate hill, and in St. Paul's Churchyard, there are establishments which, for magnificence, equal, if they do not surpass, anything the westend has to show. In these gorgeous shops, which are occupied by silk-mercers, India shawls and scarfs of the richest texture, French-worked cambrics, Brussels lace, and silks of every quality and hue, are spread out in profusion; mirrors increase the effect, and immense plate-glass in the windows, set in brass frames guarded by brass fences, exhibit the goods "in the best possible light." Ludgate hill and street (it is Ludgate hill from Fleet street to the church, and Ludgate street from the church to St. Paul's Churchyard) is occupied by silk-mercers, jewellers, printsellers, booksellers, &c.

The east end" of London knows little or nothing of those elegant modern refinements in shopkeeping which, under the names of bazars and arcades, are familiar to the "west end," and to various provincial towns. The shopkeepers of the city, though many of them are bestowing much of splendid decoration on their premises, still act on the maxim that a shop is neither more nor less than a shop, a place for positive buying and selling, and not intended to accommodate a congregation of loungers. Bazars and arcades are, therefore, more intended for those who have time and money at their disposal, and are, occasionally, uncertain how to spend either, than for the sober, specific, earnest purposes of trade. Thus, what is sold in these places belong principally to the lighter and more elegant branches of traffic: the pastry-cook may show himself among the sellers, but the baker and the butcher would be out of their element. In the shops of the arcade, and on the tables and counters of the bazar, are spread out whatever is thought likely to attract the eye,

and tempt to purchase. Hither comes the jeweller, with his rings, and chains, and seals, and watches; the perfumer has his oils, and combs, and brushes; the toyman with his dancing-jacks, and ever-galloping horsemen, tiny trumpets, drums, and violins, Chinese puzzles, and musical-boxes; the tobacconist offers his cigars and scented snuffs; the stationer and the music-seller exhibit prints, music, and musicalinstruments; while the shoemaker, milliner, and bonnet-maker, display the neatest proofs of their respective handicrafts.

The first arcade we meet with in proceeding westward is the Lowther arcade, which runs from the Strand to Adelaide street, at the back of St. Martin's church. This is a fine passage, lofty and spacious, and lighted by ornamented circular skylights. The Burlington arcade, in Piccadilly, is narrower but much longer than the Lowther arcade. It is favorably situated near the thoroughfares of the "west end," and is itself a considerable thoroughfare. In Pimlico, where, about twenty years ago, were fields, now occupied by the fine houses which constitute Belgrave square, Wilton Crescent, &c., there is the Pantechnicon-a spirited attempt to combine on one spot all the supplies requisite for a rich and fashionable population. The Pantechnicon is a compound of the arcade and the bazar, and aims at a higher and more solid character than either have yet made for themselves. It consists of two large and distinct buildings-one termed the "carriage department," devoted to the purposes its name indicates; the other, having two paved passages or arcades, with shops on either side, stairs leading to show-rooms above, and wine-vaults below, while a significant "To the Bazar" intimates that lighter and more elegant trifles are not forgotten in the attention paid to carriages, furniture, and household supplies.

There are various bazars at the "west end," of which the more remarkable are, the one in Soho square, the first started in London, another in Baker street, Portman square, and a third in the building in Oxford street, which occupies the site of what was termed the Pantheon. The Pantheon was a handsome building devoted to purposes of amusement; it was nearly all burned in 1792; and the present building, which retains the portico of the former one, has, after some vicissitudes, been devoted to the purposes of a bazar. The ground-floor is neatly set round with tables, after the manner of a "fancy fair;" a flight of stairs leads to the upper floor, which is partly occupied in the same way; and a number of other rooms are set apart as a picture gallery, where pictures are hung up for sale. An open space in the centre of the upper floor, which is railed round, permits the light to fall from the roof on the lower floor, and hence the visiter can look down on the not uninteresting scene below. In the rear of the building is a conservatory, where plants and flowers are exhibited for sale, and which contains a mimic fountain and basin with gold and silver fish.

Regent street is divided into two distinct portions or streets. The first street, which is the shortest, runs up from Pall Mall to Piccadilly, terminating in an open circular space, called the Circus. The Haymarket on one side, and St. James street at some little distance on the other, run parallel with this Regent Street, all three extending from Pall Mall to Piccadilly. The view from the Circus down Regent street, which slopes toward St. James's park, is excellent. The street, though rather short, is broad and spacious; the view extends across Pall Mall to the steps leading into the park, on the top of which is the pillar erected to the memory of the duke of York. From the Circus we turn round, through the colonnaded curve called the Quadrant, into the upper portion of Regent street. The Quadrant is certainly a singular street. Its form is a curve: colonnades supported on iron pillars run along on either side, underneath which the foot-passengers walk, and the shops here are of a similar character to the shops of an arcade. In cold, moist, wintry weather, these colonnades are dark, heavy-looking, and cheerless, even though they afford a shelter from the rain, while the sombre aspect of gas-lit shops in mid-day adds to the dreariness. In summer they are pleasant, cool, and shady, but still are lacking in that peculiar kind of effect which we associate with a colonnade in sultry weather. On emerging from the Quadrant, the upper Regent street is spread before us; and if the period be the busy "season," and the time of day from two o'clock till four or five, or even six, with a bright summer sun pouring its radiance over spacious street and dingy alley, the view is, of its kind, one of the finest in the world. The newest fashions are displayed on the street; rows of carriages are drawn up at the edge of each pavement; loungers on foot, or on horseback, or whirling their cab

riolets along, pass up and down; at the doors of many of the shops forms are ostentatiously placed by the considerate shopmen, on which footmen recline, in liveries of various hues, awaiting the pleasure of their masters or mistresses within; shopmen, trimly dressed, step out to receive the commands of those who do not choose to alight from their carriages, or else to deliver the purchases with a polite and humble attention; and now and then, a hackney-coach, or an omnibus with its dozen passengers at sixpence each, or a poor beggar on the pavement, makes his appearance, as if to illustrate by the force of contrast all this showy splendor.

Bond street, divided into Old and New, is a short distance from Regent street, running parallel with it from Piccadilly to Oxford street. It is still a much frequented place, and many of its shops are elegant and grand, though its old consequence as a fashionable lounging-street has been somewhat eclipsed by its magnificent-looking rival.

The long line of Oxford street is full of many and remarkable contrasts. Shops of every character are to be found in it; the baker and the confectioner, with their open windows, and smoking buns, and tarts that the sun has changed in color; the fishmonger drenching his shop with water, to preserve his stock from the effects of the heat; the public-house, at the doors of which stable-boys, footmen, and workingmen, may be seen entering or emerging; the coffee-shop; the trunk-maker; the hosier, in a little shop where there seems hardly room to turn between the shelves and the counter; the saloon-like place where the mercer unrolls his silks; the little stalls on the edge of the pavement, loaded with cabbage and cauliflowers, green peas, and new potatoes. The best part of Oxford street is from a little east of Regent street, proceeding westward. Being a great thoroughfare, it is perpetually thronged; carriages, stage-coaches, cabriolets, and omnibuses, are ever rolling pastfor Oxford street is the Cheapside of the "west end."

We have already alluded to the other streets of the "west end, which are noted places-such as Pall Mall and St. James's street. The great thoroughfares, or promenades, are Pall Mall, St. James's street, New and Old Bond streets, Albemarle street, the two Regent streets, Oxford street, with the arcades and bazars. There are many fine shops here and there, some of them in very quiet-looking places, scattered among the private houses in the different streets. Charing Cross, the "west end" of the Strand, and part of Whitehall street may be added to the remarkable or noted streets.

CHAPTER XXXIII.

MARKETS. SMITHFIELD, BILLINGSGATE, AND COVENT GARDEN.

THERE are four chief markets in London, which may be regarded as the fountainheads, or grand reservoirs, whence the dealers of the metropolis, as well as persons in the country, draw their supplies: these are, Mark lane for grain, Smithfield for live stock, Billingsgate for fish, and Covent Garden for vegetables and fruit. A great portion of the other markets are for the sale of meat and vegetables, and may be regarded more as family markets (or at least as much so) than as markets for dealers. Thus Newgate and Leadenhall markets, the great emporiums of the carcass-butchers, are markets for the sale of meat and vegetables: the one is within a few minutes' walk of Smithfield; the other is near the East-India house, lying between Leadenhall and Fenchurch streets. Newport market, in Newport street, near Leicester square, is divided into the wholesale and retail markets: the retail market is merely a kind of row, or alley, with butchers' shops on either side. Hungerford market a handsome place on the banks of the Thames, which is entered from the Strand, near Charing Cross-may be regarded as a sort of adjunct or ally of Billingsgate, for such it was intended to be; it is, however, a general market. The row of shops occupied by the "Whitechapel butchers" in High street, Aldgate, may be reckoned a meat

market; and not very far thence is a vegetable-market in Spitalfields. Across the water, in Southwark, is the well-known "borough market;" Farringdon market, off Farringdon street, is in lieu of the old Fleet market, which was removed; there is a market not far from Finsbury square; Clare market is in Clare street, near Lincoln'sInn-Fields; and at the "west end" are Portman and Carnaby markets the latter a small market, as well as Oxford-street market, which, though now decayed, was some few years ago in a very flourishing condition. In short, London contains sixteen flesh-markets, and twenty-five markets for corn, coal, hay, vegetables, fish, or other principal articles of consumption. Of the flesh-markets, some are for live animals, some for carcasses in bulk, others for the retail of meat, and others for pork, fowls, &c. The shops and the hawkers are the conduits and the pipes by which the supplies of the markets are distributed over the whole surface of the metropolis. The hawkers are a numerous and indefatigable generation. Manifold are the voices to be heard in every suburban district and retired street proclaiming whatever in its season is thought likely to sell. In the morning, mingled with the curious scream of the milk woman, may be heard the long-drawn sound of "water-cresses!" then comes round the cats'-meat man, his little cart drawn by one or two dogs, while the household cats, as he approaches, recognise his voice, and manifest lively and unequivocal symptoms of interest; and, perhaps, before breakfast is over, a sound that is more a yell than a cry, emitted from iron lungs, and seemingly intended to reach the deepest recesses of the kitchen, announces that "hearthstone" is at hand. Breakfast is scarcely well over when the bakers' and the butchers' men begin their rounds: the bakers with baskets or barrows; the butchers, some on horseback, others with ovalshaped wooden trays upon their shoulders. Now come the men with their live soles, their eels, or their mackerel; with these are to be seen the venders of the cabbage, the cucumber, the onion, the lettuce, the cauliflower, peas, turnips, potatoes, or fruit; and the spaces which are left are filled up by itinerant hawkers of brooms, brushes, ornaments, &c., with now and then an Italian boy with his figure-tray, or a strolling minstrel with his hand-organ or his guitar. In the afternoon the hawkers go round again, for "supper"-time is drawing nigh. Has the stock of vegetables or of fish been unsold in the morning? It will disappear in the evening. Is the season for oysters gone? Then are not lobsters come in?

The seasons have their different effects on different markets. Thus the fine summer weather, during which Billingsgate is resplendent with fish, and Covent Garden blooming with vegetables, fruit, and flowers, causes the butcher to fret, makes him keep his shop or stall comparatively bare and scanty, while the passer-by is more apt to turn away, than to stand still and admire the meat. But let Christmas and a nipping frost approach together; let the season come round when cattle-shows are held, and fat oxen are brought up in wagons because they can not well waddle on foot to town, and the scene will be changed. It is indeed a rich treat, immediately preceding the great anniversary, to see the crowds standing at the butchers' shops, and feasting their admiring eyes on the glorious "barons of beef" hung up around. Smithfield is a cattle-market on Mondays and Fridays, and a hay and straw market is held in it on Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Saturdays. The great market-day is Monday, or rather Monday morning. The place is a large irregular area, enclosed by houses. It is so arranged that the cattle arrive in the outskirts of London on Sunday, and toward evening they are driven into the city. There are two great thoroughfares by which the cattle are brought to London: by the great northern road, over Highgate hill, and through Islington; and by the eastern outlet of the city, the Whitechapel road. They continue arriving in Smithfield from about nine o'clock on Sunday night till toward morning. During the dark nights of winter, when the supply of cattle in the market is greatest, and especially about the time of what is called the "great market," near the end of the year, the scene in Smithfield is terrific. The drovers are furnished with torches, to enable them to distinguish the marks on the cattle-to put the sheep in pens-and to form the "beasts" into droves; the latter are all placed with their heads to the centres of the droves, which is done for the purpose of enabling the purchasers to examine the bodies of the animals more easily. This is not accomplished without very great exertion the different flocks of sheep have to be kept from mixing with each other, and the bullocks are severely beaten over the nostrils to compel them to form into the drove or circle, and then to stand patiently. The lowing of the "beasts," the tremulous cries of the sheep, the barking of dogs, the rattling of sticks on the heads and