two millions of cauliflowers; three hundred
thousand bushels of peas; seven hundred and
fifty thousand lettuces; and half a million
bushels of onions, are sold here annually.
And that the annual amount of money paid
for fruits and vegetables in this market cannot be
less than three millions sterling.

I become aware that all this part of the roadway,
from the pit-door of the opera house to
the corner of James Street is called Casualty
Side, because the waggons pay for their standings
here by the day; and that yonder they
pay a yearly rent for a small frontage,
whether they come every market day or
not. I meet a peace officer, and know that
there are eight such in the market; and
that the regular police never come here unless
called in to aid or to take a charge. He,
I see, is thinking about the iron electroplated
florins, which he knows are in circulation
this morning; for coiners bring such
things here and dispose of them to utterers
whom they know by sight to be "safe men."
Unlucky sellers having no counter to ring
them on, take them in the bustle and hurry
of business; and, hastening home congratulate
themselves upon the rapid disposal of their
wares; until, staying at some halfway house
for refreshment they tender a bright florin,
which is rejected. They apologize and tender
another, which is rejected also. Whereupon,
as has happened before now, the unfortunate
market gardener not being known, is detained
and searched, and his pockets being found
to be filled with the objectionable coin, is
cast into a dungeon, and kept there until he
can clear his character, to the great alarm of
his family. My peace officer has just been
cautioning some persons of these things; but
they think 'emselves much too sharp for
anythink of that, and won't heed what I say,
till they 're bit. Which is just how smashing
flourishes.

I now begin to know, that a great deal of
pilfering goes on in the market. Sacks and
measures, as well as baskets worth four
pounds ten shillings a dozen, vanish unaccountably
when not looked after. Artful
children, looking much too young to do anything
wrong, are regularly brought down
here to steal by parents and friends, who
wait and watch their movements from under
the Piazza. Their favorite plan is to carry
a stick with a pin in the end of it, which
they slily stick into apples and oranges, as
they pass by, transferring them to
pockets with the dexterity of jugglers. They
know very well that market people content
themselves with cuffing, and rarely give a
thief into custody, whether young or old,
Which is why thieving flourishes.

Gazing upon high piles of strawberry
pottles, I perceive that they are made by
women and girls "down in Kent," who get
about a penny a dozen, and earn good wages
at that rate, while the season lasts; and I
also perceive that a pottle of strawberries
would be algebraically represented by any of
the last three letters of the alphabet, being
essentially "an unknown quantity." For
there are strawberry pottles of all dimensions
—from those which hold twelve ounces (the
legitimate and traditional size) down to those
that, having their slender ends stuffed with
leaves, will scarcely hold five ounces, which,
I am sorry to know, are the most common.
I know that it is at all times more satisfactory
to buy my strawberries in round flat
baskets called ''Punnets," about two inches
deep, and of various diameter, to hold a half-pound,
one pound, and two pounds; for in
these I cannot be tricked by tapering bottoms
or leaves, or a few outsiders covering a quantity
of trash below.

What is there in the face of that old man,
with the bare throat and loose handkerchief,
who wears knee breeches and a jacket, and
carries on his head a close-fitting cap with a
small rim, turned up all round, like a pewter
bowl, or the helmet of a Venetian soldier in
a melodrama—which tells me that he may
be taken as a type of the regular Market
porter? I know that if I were to ask him,
he could tell me stories in which he devoutly
believes, of the days when the Prince Regent
would come down to the market very drunk,
and in disguise, and submit to be rolled into
baskets and carried about on men's shoulders,
as all real gentlemen did in those days; of
how Mr. Sheridan and Mr. Fox would drop
into "The Finish" after a late debate. Of
how, in that golden age. he could sometimes
pick up a pound in a morning, though now
"his jints is stiffer than they was, and the
young 'uns gets the advantage of him." In
these degenerate days, if I mistake not, he
is glad of a fourpenny or sixpenny " turn"
from the greengrocers—though some engage
him at half-a-crown or five shillings a week
to do all their work, much or little—and he
is compelled to eke out a living by carrying
home goods from the auction rooms, and
serving as a scene-shifter at one of the minor
theatres.

Of a different race is this man with the
long greasy fustian coat with large-flapped
pockets and gilt buttons, with the green and
red-brown silk pocket-handkerchief round his
neck, and the purple travelling cap turned
up at the ears. I know him for a thorough
costermonger. He dwells in some court
within a court, some rookery's inmost core
near Drury Lane, or Red Cross Street,
Clerkenwell. Perhaps his father was a
costermonger; or perhaps he don't remember
his father or mother; in which
case the market was no doubt his Alma
Mater. Or it is possible that he followed
some trade once; but, being out of employment,
took to costermongering a little, and
has remained a costermonger ever since. For
I do not pretend to be more explicit than
another clairvoyant. I know for a certainty
that there are about three thousand of his