IV 



My Log 369 



however, discriminate persons. When at Tottenham 

 Park I used to amuse myself by taking gold fish out 

 of a pond with a casting-net in order to put them in 

 the fountains. When I went by myself I could do 

 nothing ; but when the old gardener who had fed 

 them for years came and stood by me, they flocked 

 from all quarters, and I had great hauls. 



Another of the great streets opens into the 

 market for poultry, game, and vegetables, which is 

 made gay and bright from the piles of brilliant red 

 tomatoes and rich salmon-coloured water-melons. 

 Bananas are sold here, and are said to be very good 

 by those who are fond of a mixture of brown 

 Windsor soap and hair-oil. There are also piles of 

 arbutus berries, resembling a raspberry, but more 

 hairy, and with a beautiful purple tint over the red. 

 I tasted them and found them astringent, sub-acid, 

 and wholly nasty. I am told that midshipmen who 

 have partaken freely of them have been taken suddenly 

 sick in the open market, and believed that they had 

 broken a vessel. I am by no means sure that it is 

 intended to be eaten, nor could I discover its use 

 from the old woman who sold it, on account of 

 mutual imperfection. Piles of beautiful apples were 

 also lavishly strewed about, said to be woolly, which 

 I don't care about, as, now I am no longer whipped 

 for stealing them, I don't think them worth the 

 trouble of eating. Gigantic capsicums there are too, 

 very nice when stuffed with forced meat and stewed; 

 Brazil nuts, of course (the only way to crack them 



2 B 



