120 A BIRD COLLECTOR'S MEDLEY. 
CHAPTER Sexi: 
LEADENHALL MARKET. 
Ir is a common saying that visitors can find little to do in London 
during the morning. The man of business finds in his work occupation 
sufficient, perhaps more than sufficient, to satisfy his utmost requirements ; 
but the case is different with the country cousin who has come up to London 
to see the sights. He will find few places of amusement open before lunch, 
and after having duly digested the standing dishes provided by the Zoo, 
National Gallery, St. Paul’s, and Westminster, he will not improbably towards 
the end of his visit find the mornings hanging heavily on his hands. Under 
such circumstances, if he happen to be the possessor of any ornithological 
instincts whatever, he may well do worse than pay a visit to Leadenhall 
Market. 
One would not, it is true, instinctively regard the centre of London as 
a suitable locality for a natural-history ramble; but the aforesaid market 
is in many respects unique, and it is quite possible that a man may see 
there more varieties of Jarge birds in half an hour than he would meet with 
during a twelvemonth spent in the country. Few members of the Duck 
tribe have not at some time or other adorned this great emporium of the 
Anatide, and during a casual visit at the beginning of February I counted no 
fewer than twenty-five species, all of more or less interesting birds. Passing 
through the main archway, one comes at once to the largest shops—some 
poulterers, some fishmongers, some butchers, their wares often strangely 
intermingled as the carcasses are hastily unpacked. Straight before us looms 
the form of a Swan, “wild” so-called, but in reality a tame bird driven by 
the frost to the sea-shore, and there stalked and butchered by some local 
Nimrod. Presumably all the natives fought shy of it, and it has found its 
way to Leadenhall, and now, suspended by a hook through its beak, it awaits 
the arrival of some venturesome purchaser—someone confident in his digestive 
organs, and the possession of adamantine teeth. 
We pass on to the next stall, and that long symmetrical line of Wigeon. 
What a scene it suggests!—the joyous company feeding or preening their 
