CHAP, III. 



TIIK STATK ol- Till- 



I'.tl 



which is to tli is <lnv pointed out and callc<l ly tl 

 name of the b * Potato^ market." 



I>ut the glory of the givat fairs has long since departed. 

 They declined with the extension of turnpikes, and rail- 

 roads gave them their deathblow. Shops now exist in 

 i i veiy little town and village, drawing their supplies 

 regularly by road and canal from the most distant parts. 

 St. Bartholomew, the great fair of London, 1 and Donny- 

 brook, the great fair of Dublin, have been suppressed as 

 nuisances ; and nearly all that remains of the dead but 

 long potent institution of the Fair, is the occasional exhi- 

 bition, at periodic times in country places, of pig-faced 

 ladies, dwarfs, giants, double-bodied calves, and such-like 

 wonders, amidst a blatant clangour of drums, gongs, and 



1 The provisioning of London, now 

 grown so populous, would be almost 

 impossible but for the perfect system 

 of mads HOW converging on it from 

 all parts. In early times, London, 

 like country places, had to lay in its 

 stix-.k of salt-provisions against win- 

 ter, d ra wing its supplies of vegetables 

 from the country within easy reach of 

 the capital. Hence the London mar- 

 ket-gardeners petitioned against the 

 extension of turnpike-roads about a 

 century ago, as they afterwards peti- 

 tioned against the extension of rail- 

 ways, fearing lest their trade should 

 be destroyed by the competition of 

 country-grown cabbages. But the ex- 

 tension of the roads had become a 

 matter f absolute necessity, ill order 

 I" Iced the huge and ever-increasing 

 mouth of the Great Metropolis, the 

 population of which has grown in 

 about two centuries from four hundred 

 thousand to three millions. This 

 enormous population has, perhaps, 

 never at any time more than a fort- 

 night's supply of food in stock, and 

 most families not more than a few 

 days; yet no one ever entertains the 

 slightest apprehension of a failure in 

 the supply, or even of a variation in 

 the price from day to day in conse- 

 quence of any jjossible shortcoming. 

 That this should be so would be one 

 of the most surprising things in the 



history of modern London, but that 

 it is sufficiently accounted for by the 

 magnificent system of roads, canals, 

 and railways, which connect it with 

 the remotest corners of the kingdom. 

 Modern London is mainly fed by 

 steam. The Express Meat-Train, 

 which runs nightly from Aberdeen to 

 London, drawn by two engines, and 

 makes the journey in twenty-four 

 hours, is but a single illustration of 

 the rapid and certain method by which 

 modem London is fed. The north 

 Highlands of Scotland have thus, by 

 means of railways, become grazing- 

 grounds for the metropolis. Express 

 fish-trains from Dunbar and Eye- 

 mouth (Smeaton's harbours), aug- 

 mented by fish-trucks from Culler- 

 coats and Tynemouth on the North- 

 umberland coast, and from Redcar, 

 \Yhitby, and Scarborough on the 

 Yorkshire coast, also arrive in Lon- 

 don every morning. And what with 

 steam-vessels bearing cattle, meat, 

 and tish, arriving by sea, and canal- 

 boats laden with potatoes from inland, 

 and railway-vans laden with butter 

 and milk drawn from a wide circuit 

 of country, and road-vans piled high 

 with vegetables within easy drive of 

 Covent Garden, the Great Mouth is 

 thus from day to day regularly, satis- 

 laetorily, and expeditiously tilled. 



