154 John Bachman. 



The morning after my arrival in Philadelphia I 

 was curious to know how the old Philadelphia 

 Market looked ; I had always pronounced it to 

 be the best in the little world that I had seen. So I 

 rose at five o'clock in the morning, as I have inva- 

 riably done since I left home, to saunter by myself 

 and make observations. * * * There have been 

 alterations in the arrangement of the market houses ; 

 they have been broken in upon by big streets, and 

 no longer present the continuous line that they once 

 did as if stretching from the Delaware to the 

 Schuylkill. * * * 



I was forcibly reminded of old scenes of twenty- 

 three years ago. There stood the identical one- 

 horse carts, filled with churns of milk, eggs, butter, 

 chickens and vegetables. The old, fat, huckster- 

 ing, independent, sturdy dames looking out keenly 

 for the pennies ; ready to drive a cart or a bar- 

 gain and having at all times a Roland for an 

 Oliver they had neither grown older, nor uglier, 

 nor more refined. I suppose that they are the 

 daughters of the old stock, for I did not stop to trace 

 pedigrees. They had the same keen, careless look, 

 and had no doubt the same minds and souls of their 

 mothers, now gone down to the dust, and, whether 

 it was the old or the young Rip Van Winkle, the 

 features were so alike, that they appeared the same 

 to me. I priced some bunches of radishes, the 

 answer was : " A bunch for a fip, and a levy and a 

 fip for four bunches." The markets have greatly 

 risen in price. Fish were fine and abundant. For 

 the first time, south of Boston, I saw several enor- 

 mous Halibuts a fish which Maria will recollect. 

 The old fish- women had the old rudeness, slang and 

 impudence ; and very ugly words were dealt out 

 upon rival hucksters. 



I tried to remember to keep for you the bill of 



