eads.

But it is time to ring down the curtain. The last days of the fair
were not edifying. Scenes of riot and debauch, of violence and
lawlessness disgraced the assembly. Its usefulness as a gathering for
trade purposes had passed away. It became a nuisance and a disgrace to
London. In older days the Lord Mayor used to ride in his grand coach
to our old gateway, and there proclaim it with a great flourish of
trumpets. In 1850 his worship walked quietly to the accustomed place,
and found that there was no fair to proclaim, and five years later the
formality was entirely dispensed with, and silence reigned over the
historic ground over which century after century the hearts of our
forefathers throbbed with the outspoken joys of life. The old gateway,
like many aged folk, has much on which to meditate in its advanced
age.

[Illustration: An Ancient Maker of Nets in a Kentish Fair]

Many other fairs have been suppressed in recent years, but some
survive and thrive with even greater vigour than ever. Some are hiring
fairs, where you may see young men with whipcord in their caps
standing in front of inns ready to be hired by the farmers who come to
seek labourers. Women and girls too come to be hired, but their number
decreases every year. Such is the Abingdon fair, which no rustic in
the adjoining villages ever thinks of missing. We believe that the
Nottingham Goose Fair, which is attended by very large crowds, is also
a hiring fair. "Pleasure fairs" in several towns and cities show no
sign of diminished popularity. The famous St. Giles's Fair at Oxford
is attended by thousands, and excursion trains from London, Cardiff,
Reading, and other large towns bring crowds to join in the humours of
the gathering, the shows covering all the broad space between St.
Giles's Church and George Street. Reading Michaelmas Pleasure Fair is
always a great attraction. The fair-ground is filled from end to end
with roundabouts driven by steam, which also plays a hideous organ
that grinds out popular tunes, swings, stalls, shows, menageries, and
all "the fun of the fair." You can see biographs, hear phonographs,
and a penny-in-the-slot will introduce you to wonderful sights, and
have your fortune told, or shy at coco-nuts or Aunt Sally, or witness
displays of boxing, or have a photograph taken of yourself, or watch
weird melodramas, and all for a penny or two. No wonder the fair is
popular.

[Illustration: Outside The "Lamb Inn". Burford,