graphic description.

The extract is from Mr.

Dickens's fine tale of "Oliver Twist :"

--

"It was market-morning. The ground was covered nearly ankle-deep with filth and mire; and a thick, steam perpetually rising from the reeking bodies of the cattle, and mingling with the fog, which seemed to rest upon the chimney-tops, hung heavily above. All the pens in the centre of the large area, and as many temporary ones as could be crowded into the vacant space, were filled with sheep; and, tied up to posts by the gutter-side, were long lines of beasts and oxen three or four deep. Countrymen, butchers, drovers, hawkers, boys, thieves, idlers, and vagabonds of every low grade, were mingled together in a dense mass: the whistling of drovers, the barking of dogs, the bellowing and plunging of beasts, the bleating of sheep, and grunting and squeaking of pigs; the cries of hawkers, the shouts, oaths, and quarrelling on all sides, the ringing of bells and roar of voices that issued from every public-house; the crowding, pushing, driving, beating, whooping and yelling; the hideous and discordant din that resounded from every corner of the market; and the unwashed, unshaven, squalid, and dirty figures constantly running to and fro, and bursting in and out of the throng, rendered it a stunning and bewildering scene, which quite confounded the senses."

The annual supply of cattle to this market, for the consumption of the Londoners, has averaged for the last eight or nine years, 153,288 head of horned

cattle; 1,265,958 sheep; 20,780 fatted calves; and 130,000 pigs.

We have now to speak of the Church of St. Bartholomew, occupying the site of the priory, which, as we have already mentioned, was founded by Rahere, the minstrel. Pennant talks of the profligate life of the good Rahere, falsely imagining that the profession of minstrel was in those days a profligate and abandoned one. "There is a legend," he adds, "that he had a most horrible dream, out of which he was relieved by St. Bartholomew himself, who directed him to found the house, and dedicate it to him." The minstrel was buried in the church, where a handsome monument, described by Pennant, was erected to his memory. The last prior was William Bolton. An anecdote is related of him, which, as a trait of popular manners in the age in which he flourished, is worth preserving. In the year 1523, the astrologers of London, of whom and similar vagabonds there were great numbers in the city at this time, predicted that on the 1st of February, 1524, the waters of the Thames would overflow, and wash away 10,000 houses. The prophecy was reiterated again and again, and at last met belief. As the time drew near, people became so alarmed, that many families packed up their goods and removed into Kent and Essex, out of the reach, as they imagined, of this awful inundation. As the dreadful day approached, the number of these emigrants increased. In January, droves of workmen might be seen, followed by their wives and children,

trudging on foot to the villages within fifteen or twenty miles, to await the catastrophe. People of a more wealthy condition hired carts and waggons, and hastened away on the same errand. It is calculated that, by the middle of January, nearly 20,000 persons had left the city, leaving nothing but the bare walls of their dwellings to be swept to destruction by the impending floods. A great many clustered about Highgate, Hampstead, and Blackheath; and those who could afford to remove to a greater distance, went as far as Guildford and Dorking on the one side, and Barnet, Waltham Abbey, and St. Alban's, on the other. Among those who were most alarmed, was the portly prior of St. Bartholomew's. He resolved to take up his abode at Harrow on the Hill, where at very great expense he erected a sort of fortress, in which to shut himself and brethren during the prevalence of the floods. He stocked it with provisions for two months; and on the 24th of January, just a week before the awful day which was to see the destruction of London, he removed thither with all the brethren and officers of the priory, and several boats, which were conveyed in waggons to the fortress. He also hired expert rowers, to be available in case of emergency. Many of the wealthy citizens prayed that they might be allowed to share his retreat, but the prior was deaf to their entreaties, and told all the applicants that he had scarcely sufficient room for his own brethren, and could receive no strangers. At last the awful morn, big with the fate of ten thousand

houses, dawned in the east, and anxious crowds stationed themselves within sight of the river, to watch the rising of the waters. But the waters would not rise beyond the usual high-water mark; and the tide ebbed as peaceably as it had flowed. The crowds were not yet assured of their safetythe inundation might come upon them in the evening or the night; and so they waited with undiminished anxiety till the tide flowed again. All went quietly and regularly as before, and another day dawned without the slightest symptom of the threatened floods having been observed. The people thereupon began to grow clamorous, and some one started the notion that it would serve the false prophets and astrologers but right to duck them in the river. The proposition was favourably received-it would be a show for the people, after all; not quite so grand a one as the inundation, but still a show; and a mob of people proceeded in search of the astrologers, to inflict a summary punishment upon them. Luckily, the astrologers invented an excuse, which allayed the popular fury. The stars were right, they said, after all; it was they, erring mortals, who were wrong. The inundation would most certainly take place, as the stars had foretold; 10,000 houses in London would assuredly be washed away by the Thames, but they had made a slight error in the date-an error of one figure only, for they had reckoned a five instead of a six, and thus fixed the date of the catastrophe a whole century too early. London was therefore safe until 1624, and there was no cause of

alarm for the present generation. The popular wrath was appeased - the account was spread through the city-Bolton, the prior, dismantled his fortress, and came back to St. Bartholomew's; and the other refugees followed his example, and gradually came back, until London was as cheerful and as populous as it had ever been before.

St. Bartholomew's Hospital also owes its origin to the benevolent Rahere. He obtained from Henry I. a piece of waste ground adjoining the priory, where he built and endowed an hospital "for a master, brethren and sisters, and for the entertainment of poor diseased people till they got well; of distressed women big with child, till they were delivered and able to go abroad; and for the support of all children whose mothers died in the house, until they attained the age of seven years.' The present building was begun in the year 1729.

Before leaving the neighbourhood of Smithfield, we must take a turn into Cock Lane, so notorious for the ghost which alarmed all London in the year 1762. The story is too well known to need repetition.

Long Lane and Barbican, both in the close vicinity of Smithfield, deserve a word of mention ere we return to the direct course towards St. Paul's from which we have so long wandered. The editor of Pennant's "London Improved," fourth edition, London, 1814, says: "Long Lane is distinguished by some dreadful acts of incendiarism. An ample memorial of the event is exhibited in the following