instalments of their loads, they stirred up the chaff
and beans in the baskets, to enable the animals
to finish their breakfasts comfortably. I did
not observe that any of the trucks or carts were
overloaded; but fish was scarce and dear in the
market that morning. Perhaps, if the
costermongers could have afforded to buy a larger
stock, they would not have been so considerate
of their beasts. However, as the song says, let
us speak of a man as we find him. I must say
that on this occasion the costermonger behaved
to his donkey in the most exemplary manner;
and if I had gone to Billingsgate with the hope
and desire of witnessing cruelty to the animal,
I should have had to come away bitterly
disappointed.

I think I was a little disappointed; for it was
in some such terms as these that I addressed an
active and intelligent officer of the City Police,
whom I met in the vicinity of London's column:
"How is it that the costermongers all treat
their donkeys so well?" To which the active and
intelligent officer replied:

"'Cos it's their interest, sir; they would be
fools to ill treat their best friend."

"But they do ill treat them sometimes" I said,
pursuing my disappointment.

"Yes," was the reply, " when they are drunk;
but when they are drunk they ill treat their
wives, and they would ill treat you, or even me."

This coincides with the information which I
received from an officer of the Humane Society,
who told me that donkeys came to grief chiefly
when their masters were drunk, and when they
were handed over to the tender mercies of
persons who had no interest in them. " On
Hampstead Heath, Blackheath, and at sea-side
places," said my informant, " donkeys are used
shamefully, even by their proprietors; they can
make more by them in a day than they are worth,
and they don't mind killing them."

The pursuit of pleasure is generally thoughtless
and ruthless. Have you not seen a sixteen-stone
materfamilias, with her whole family of
daughters, ruthlessly riding as many donkeys to
death on Hampstead Heath, utterly regardless of
their sufferings? Inexorable trade is not so
inexorable after all, even when personified in the
"ruffian costermonger."

On the Friday afternoon when. I visited the
New Cattle Market, there were possibly a
hundred donkeys, and twice that number of horses,
exposed for sale in the pens running along the
lower side of the great square. It was a strange
scene. The ground for fully a quarter of a mile
was occupied by a dense throng of horses,
donkeys, mules, goats, men, boys, and dogs, all
kicking, galloping, braying, bleating, shouting,
shrieking, and barking together; while strewed
along the stones among the never-ceasing tramp
of feet, were exposed for sale every imaginable
article appertaining to the cart-shed and the
stable, with an infinite variety of articles not
appertaining to either in the most distant
degree. There were saddles, bridles, traces,
buckles, belly-bands, wheels, axle-trees, iron
tires, currycombs, brushes, splash-boards,
tailboards, and broken shafts, and among these,
in the most promiscuous confusion, iron
bedsteads, teacups, coffee-pots, spades, rakes, books,
pictures, cradles, cheese- cutters, canisters,
chemists' bottles, pomatum, maps, lanterns, and
literally thousands of other articles besides.
It was as if a fleet of ships, carrying the
contents of all the marine-store-shops of London,
had been wrecked there, and the sea had receded,
leaving their scattered cargoes high and dry.
Along this wreck-littered shore, deafened by
the bawling of loud harsh voices, calling
winkles, ginger-beer, sherbet, pine-apple rock,
fruit, fried fish, and every imaginable vile
eatable and drinkable; through an atmosphere
steaming with the exhalations of mangy animals,
and reeking with the odour of fermenting
humanity, for the most part clad in fustian and
corduroy, I made my way to the place where
the donkeys are "shown off" to intending
purchasers. Here, surely, was the place to be
harrowed by the spectacle of cruelty to animals.

The first thing I noticed reminded me of a
good story I once heard of fifteen economical
gentlemen, who proposed to go out for a day's
pleasure in a vehicle drawn by one horse. Though
there were fifteen of them, they were desirous
of adding one more to the number, and accordingly
Mr. Abrahams, who was the promoter of
the affair, invited his friend, Mr. Jobson, to join
the party. "What, sixteen people and only one
horse!" exclaimed Mr. Jobson; "the animal
can't do it; he'll never go." "Oh, never fear
about that," said Mr. Abrahams; "we'll make
him—we shall all have whips."

The costermongers and stable-men attending
this fair were so far like the fifteen economical
gentlemen, that they all had sticks; or,
if there were any who hadn't, they had every
opportunity of providing themselves with the
article, as half a dozen fellows were continually
elbowing through the throng with bundles of
ash saplings under their arms, calling out, "Real
stingers, only a penny!" . Now, I cannot
declare that I witnessed any actual cruelty of a
savage or aggravated character inflicted upon the
donkeys; but at the same time I am bound to
say that the " stingers" were used very freely.
But it was evidently more from habit, than from
any intention of hurting the beasts. Whenever
a costermonger wished to give vent to his feelings,
whatever those feelings might be, he came
down with a whack on a donkey's back. If he
was angered, it was " whack;" if he was pleased,
it was "whack;" if he meant to signify his
approval of a good thing, it was " whack;" if he
meant to signify his disapproval of a bad thing,
it was " whack;" if he meant nothing at all, it
was " whack." Always "whack!" And no man
was at all particular as to the donkey he marked
his emphasis upon. If it were his own donkey,
well and good; if it were his neighbour's donkey,
well and good. Indeed, they seemed to be all
very grateful to anybody who gave their donkeys
whacks, and even adjured you to give them
whacks, if you were not disposed to do so of your
own accord. It seemed to give especial gratification