longer fit for roughing it over the stones —
for what the dealer poetically described as the
"'ammer, 'ammer, 'ammer on the 'ard 'igh
road"— they will be bought by some farmer for
plough-work, and after a hard London life
will peacefully end their days in some secluded
village. The last duty which some of them
perform while in Pickford's service is to pull the
trucks which arrive by the line under the shed.
These trucks, arriving in long strings from all
parts of the line, are shunted into an enormous
covered space, and are then unloaded on what is
called the " bank:" a broad landing-stage, on the
other side of which are the empty vans ready to
receive the goods, and carry them off to the
various districts into which Pickford, in common
with the Post-office, has divided London. On
this bank are placed at intervals numerous desks,
by each of which is a weigh-bridge. By the truck
which is being unloaded stands a clerk, known
as the " caller-off," with the invoice in his hand;
he shouts out the description, destination, and
proper weight, of each article to the clerk at the
desk; the load is placed on the weigh-bridge,
and, found correct, is freshly invoiced, and sent
off by van. We observed a very miscellaneous
collection of articles here— chairs, fenders,
barrels, looking-glasses, pottery, and an open
basket of Welsh mutton, merely covered by an
old newspaper. There are very few accidents
here, and, it is believed, very little undetected
theft; printed documents relating to the conviction
of recently-discovered culprits— one of
whom we read was a " sheeter"— were freely
stuck about the walls. The goods, being packed
in vans, are then sent off to their destination.
The vans are very strong, and, judged by the
weight they carry, tolerably light. They are all
built by one firm in the Borough, at a cost price
of about eighty pounds each. The foot-board for
the driver folds up on a hinge— a very convenient
arrangement— and immediately under the seat
there is a "boot" for holding the macintosh-cover
for goods, with which each driver is supplied.
In these vans a ton and a half in weight
is allowed for each horse— that is to say, a full
three-horse van carries between four and five
tons, never more. All the vans, entering or
leaving the establishment, pass over a weighbridge,
by which, in a glass-case, sit two
clerks. If the van prove too heavily loaded, it
is sent back to be lightened. Each van has a
number conspicuously painted on it; and the
number, the name of the driver, the number of
his invoice, and his place of destination, are all
duly entered by the clerks in the glass-case.
Each team of horses takes out for delivery, and
returns with, two loads of goods daily. The bulk
of the goods arrive by night trains, and are at
once sent out; indeed, Manchester goods are at
their consignee's door as soon as the invoice announcing
their arrival is delivered by the morning's
post. Every van has a driver and a
"book-carrier," who acts as conductor, and
delivers the goods. At night, when his van is
unloaded, and after its final journey, the book-carrier
goes to his head-office, and " books his
work" — which means giving a detailed and statistical
account of his transactions during the
day. These accounts are then sent to
Wood-street, and there duly filed.

Before leaving Camden, we went into the vaults,
now used as store-cellars for pale ale by Messrs.
Bass, but formerly Pickford's stables. These
stables, holding three hundred horses, were full
on the night when a great fire broke out, some
six years ago. The horsekeepers go off duty
at eleven P.M. About half-an-hour before that
time the foreman of the stables discovered that
another portion of the premises was on fire.
The stables were shut off by large gates, still
standing; the key of these gates the foreman
had about him; with great presence of mind he
rushed off and unlocked the gates, and called to
the horsekeepers to let loose all the horses.
The order was obeyed, the horses were untied,
and, amid the whoops and shouts of the helpers,
came out three hundred strong, charging up the
incline, and tearing into the streets. Away
they went, unfollowed and unsought for; but of
all those horses not one was lost. All were
brought in, during the succeeding few days from
all parts of London, whither they had fled in
their fright, but none were stolen, and none
were damaged. Only one horse was burnt: a
very big beast, known as a " waggon-sitter,"
and used for backing the waggons under cranes
or against the " banks." He was a dangerous
brute, and so violent that only one man could
manage him; this man unloosed him, but he
would not move, and he was burnt in his stall.

Pickford is at home in about ten other places in
London, besides having country-houses agreeably
situate at Liverpool, Birmingham, Manchester,
Edinburgh, Aberdeen, and where not. But we
visited him at only one other residence: a little
villa on the City Basin of the Regent's Canal,
where, before railway-times, all his principal
business was transacted. Everything here was
carried on much in the same manner as at
Camden, the only noticeable feature being
what is called the " order warehouse," corresponding
very much to the "cloak room" of
a metropolitan railway station, a receptacle for
things left till called for. To this order warehouse,
are sent Manchester goods or silks bought
at a favourable turn of the market, and left in
store until required to be despatched for foreign
consignment or country trade; here, among this
heterogeneous assemblage, we saw casks of glue
from France, bales of stockings and hosiery from
Leicester, sewing-machines, their stands and
cases, in vast numbers from America, barrels of
soda ash, a large church organ, the boiler of a
steam-engine, baskets of shells, piles of cheeses,
two or three hip-baths, a bit of sacking full of
bones, several spruce trunks, a sailer's chest, a
packet of wire for bonnet-shapes, a parcel of
theatrical wardrobes, a packet of vermin-destroying
powder, &c. &c. All these wait either a
long or a short time, as the case may be, in
Pickford's custody; but it very rarely happens
that they are not eventually reclaimed.

When we took farewell of Pickford, who is