sale of horse gear and cattle-physic, and the
banking-houses, where the cattle are paid for and the money deposited,
chief amongst which is that of an active alderman of the city of London,
and ex-Lord Mayor and M.P. The animals are ranged in pairs, others tied
to rails all around; and on the other side are layers, where the animals
that are not sold are lodged on payment of a trifling sum, and
slaughtering-houses. The salesmen, who are the middle-men, receive the
cattle from the drover, and sell them to the butcher, and pay the money
into the bank. The extent of the market is about ten acres. The market
is the property of the Corporation, who exact a toll of 3.5d. for each
beast, and 4d. a score of sheep; then there is a further charge of 1s. a
pen. As there are 1,800 pens and 1,450 rails, this rent must amount to a
respectable sum. In round numbers, the accommodation provided is for
25,000 sheep and 7,300 beasts. The summer is the best time for seeing
the market, as in the winter months it is not so numerously attended.
The market opens at two, A.M., and closes at two, P.M. Any buying and
selling after that hour is most strictly prohibited. The entrance into
the market is not open, as in Smithfield, but through iron gates, guarded
by vigilant police. The public-houses in the neighbourhood abound in
signs not known in more fashionable districts. Here is the "Butchers'
Arms," there the "White Horse;" here the "Lamb" Tavern, there the "Red
Lion;" and great is the business they do on Mondays and Thursdays. The
men are of a class not visible elsewhere in London. Farmers, graziers,
jockeys, jobbers, pig-drivers, salesmen, drovers abound here, whose
speciality is to know

"Quae cura bovum, qui cultus habendo,
Sit pecori."

However early you may come in the morning, you may be sure they are there
before you. At twelve o'clock on Sunday night the Sunday is supposed to
be over, and the poor beasts, who have been shut up ever since twelve on
Saturday night, are released from their confinement. Now comes the
difficulty and confusion. How can the beasts belonging to one man be
prevented from mixing with those of another? How can they be got into
proper order? I fear the answer must be chiefly by a system of terrorism
and physical force. Those wonderfully sagacious brutes the drovers' dogs
know every animal, know where he is to go, know where he ought not to go,
and take care that, somehow or other, t