448 
THE COTTAGE GARDENER. 
September 5. 
more decent in their language, than the same class of the 
English. Their very wranglings—which were neither brief 
nor unfrequent—were not couched in the blasphemous and 
abominable words hardly to be alluded to, which characterise 
the lowest English blackguardism; but their threats were 
often horrid, and their volubility, all talking together, was 
far beyond that of the English. I called upon an old 
woman, who may be called the mother of the market, as 
regards the porteresses. She occupied a large room, in a 
large house, which, from its size, the width of the stairs, the 
carving of the balusters, and the height of the building, 
showed that in the times when Covent-garden was a fashion¬ 
able quarter, when court gallants revelled there in the days 
of Charles II., it had been one of no mean note. In its 
present state it holds a family—at least, so I was told—in 
every room. I found a woman who had the appearance of 
extreme age in the room to which I was directed. She was 
full of complaints of wretched health—evidently well- 
founded—and reiterated them before she even asked my 
business there. She was large-boned and stout, and not so 
untidy in her dress, though it hung loosely about her, as 
others I saw in the court. The room was wretched in its 
dirt. It had that peculiar look of discomfort given to any 
apartment by the want of a fender, the ashes being spread 
on the hearth and trampled about the floor. There was a 
wretched bed in one comer of the room, and in other parts 
were a table, two or three chairs, and some unwashed pots, 
while along the room was hanging some yellow-looking linen 
to dry. The size of the room made its wretchedness more 
conspicuous. The old woman I saw, who seemed incapable 
of any labour, was the daughter of the woman I wished to 
see. I found the mother in the market, and found her a 
cheerful-looking, quiet-spoken old woman, and looking ten 
years younger than her own daughter. Her hair was white, 
her form spare, and her appearance still healthy. She had 
far less whine about her than some women not half her age, 
who were with her. Her brogue was little distinguishable. 
I saw the old woman afterwards and she said :— 
“For nine and forty years I've been in this market, sir. 
For thirty-two I’ve been a widdur, and I’ve had five daughters 
and two sons. One daughter I have to keep now, and a sore 
fight we have of it. I’ve seen many changes here, sir, and 
tho’ it’s all better and improved times, it's worse for such as 
me. But I’m near the end, and I’m getting tired of my 
life. Oh, yes, I can carry a good weight still, glory be to 
God. In the old times every body wanted a porter. There 
was rough goings on, and often fightings in the old times, 
and in the ’lection times when it was ‘ Burdett and liberty,’ 
every minute; but there was better pay. Gentlemen and 
ladies would give a shilling then for a job sometimes, and 
very often a sixpence, and now they look twice at a penny, 
indeed they do, sir. The ’lections was often great hinders to 
bus’ness; and after the morning’s work was over, it was often 
dangerous to go into the market by the church, you was so 
crushed. It was a very dark place in the winter nights, was 
j the market when I knew it first. There was oil lamps ; but 
it’s so long ago I almost forget; but times was far better 
: then for the poor, or me and my children might have starved 
—yes, might we. I earned twice then what I can now. I 
can’t say how long it's since, but I've been here 49 year, and 
32 a widdur. I can tell you quite faithful what I make now 
| —Od. on a bad day, and Is. on a good, and a bad day follows 
a good ; sometimes I make 18d. But some good people 
! keep me a little, though I’m badly off in my old age, as I 
have myself to depend on. But I can’t be long for this 
world, and what’ll become of my daughter then I don’t like 
: to think of. I’m 87 as is very well known. I’m sure, sir, I’m 
1 87, and can prove it. My best friends are ladies I wait on when 
they come to the market, but there’s nobody in town now.” 
I believe that none of the wives of the porters work for 
slop-tailors or shirt-makers. In fact, a needle seems an 
unknown implement to the mass of them. They are 
hawkers, or out door saleswomen of some kind, their 
children being left with bigger children or “ wid a nabur, 
sure, sir.” Not one in twenty, I was told, could write. All— 
at least I could hear of no exceptions—are Roman Catholics, 
and tolerably regular in their attendance at mass on Sundays 
and the great festivals of the Church—the only times some 
of them, I was assured, ever wash themselves. All tho 
family’s washings of clothes seem done in the one room. 
Crowded as is the capital of England, and many as have | 
been the statements of its “ going out of town ”—which I 
many a statute, before the Revolution of 1088, was passed | 
most bootlessly with an aim to check—three-fourths of its ' 
vegetable supplies may be classed as suburban, for they 
are grown within a radius of twelve miles from Covent- 
garden itself. Another eighth is grown within a radius 
extending to fifteen miles, and the remaining eighth comes 
from the country, or from parts more distant—even from 
Yorkshire. It is customary for the experience or partiality 
of travellers, who observe the culture of a county, to 
specify this vale, or that plain, as the garden of the shire; 
but the vale of the Thames may be said literally to be the 
garden of London, for within the radius of fifteen miles 
from Covent-garden are 200,000 acres in the hands of 
gardeners, all labouring for one market—London. 
I now present the returns of the sales in this great 
Green Market. They have been prepared as were the 
others, and their correctness has been fully tested, and is 
admitted by the most experienced persons connected with 
the market. 
The following are the returns of the yearly sales at 
Covent-garden, all of home grown produce:— 
“ Apples—360,000 bushels. 
“ Pears—230,000 ditto. 
“ Cherries—90,000 ditto. 
“Plums—280,000 half-sieves, or 93,000 bushels; three 
half-sieves go to a bushel. 
“ Gooseberries—140,000 bushels. 
“Currants—Red, 70,000 sieves; white, 3,800; black, 
45,000, or 178,200 half-sieves; being the produce of 1,069,200 
bushes, as 0 bushes on an average fill a sieve. 
“ Strawberries—58,000 half-sieves, or 638,000 pottles; 11 
pottles go to a half-sieve. 
“ Raspberries—30,000 sieves, or 22,500 bushels. 
“ Filberts—1,000 tons. 
“ Walnuts—20,000 baskets, each 1J bushels, or 25,000 
bushels. 
“ Cabbages—16,000 loads, 150 to 200 dozen each, or 
33,600,000 cabbages. 
“Turnips—10,000 loads, 150 dozen each, or 18,800,000 
turnips. 
“ Carrots—5,000 loads, 200 doz. each, or 12,000,000 carrots. 
“ Onions—500,000 bushels. 
“ Brocoli (including cauliflowers)—1,000 loads, 150 dozen 
each, or 1,800,000 heads. 
“ Peas—135,000 sacks. A sack is two bushels. 
“ Beans—50,000 ditto. 
“ Celery—1,500,000 rolls of 12 each, or 18,000,000 heads 
of celery. 
“ Asparagus—400,000 bundles of 150 each, or 60,000,000 
buds. 
“ Endive—150,000 scores. 
“ French Beans—140,000 bushels. 
“ Potatoes—83,000 tons. 
“ Watercresses—21,060 hampers, or 26,325 cwt., each 
hamper being 1£ cwt.” 
Concerning potatoes, I may add that when the supply is 
short, about 200 tons are sent daily from Huntingdonshire, 
Cambridgeshire, Norfolk, and Lincolnshire. 
The Borough market is directly opposite St. Saviour’s 
Church, near the Surrey end of London-bridge. It is 
covered in, and presents a rather gloomy and confused 
appearance, as the roofing is not so elevated as at Covent- 
garden, or Farringdon, and is used in many parts for lofts, 
so that the light is obstructed. A passage, which is a con¬ 
siderable thoroughfare independent of tho market, runs ! 
obliquely from the exterior fronting St. Saviour’s to Park- j 
street and to Barclay and Perkins’s brewery. Alleys, 
connected with this thoroughfare or with the streets j 
bordering on the market, and leading to High-street, 
Southwark, intersect the whole of the market, which is j 
greatly crowded. There are shops such as butchers’ and 
public-houses on one side of the thoroughfare I have 
spoken of, and surrounding the market. The produce sold 
is the same as that of Covent-garden, except in the choicer 
and costlier fruits and vegetables, while that in flowers is ' 
insignificant. The retail customers are all the inhabitants 
of the neighbourhood; the wholesale ones are the green¬ 
grocers and costermongers, who buy in large quantities. 
