peachable character and respectability in the trade have been in vain soliciting-one for twelve to eighteen years-and others equally eligible deterred from making application. When the present Exchange was erected, there was not above one-fourth of the quantity of corn sold in London that is now sold there. The want of accommodation, both for the factors and the public attending it, is apparent to every one who visits it in the hours it is open; indeed several persons are obliged to have stands in the adjacent houses; others to transact their business in taverns, in the street, and under gateways, to the great annoyance of the neighbourhood, who have made it a subject of complaint to the city authorities."

To be sure, 1825 was the period when joint-stock prospectuses were fully as rich in promise and as daring in assertion as they became twenty years afterwards, when the great railway fever set in; and the statements above quoted are not of the kind which any inquirer need feel bound to swallow whole without examination. But the fact that the old Corn Exchange was rebuilt and considerably enlarged three years afterwards, and a second market added, seems to show that in this case a pressing want had actually been pointed out.

Even now, although the market has again been enlarged since 1850, individuals are still to be seen doing business 'in taverns, in the street, and under gateways,' in and about Mark Lane; but this arises, it is to be presumed, from erratic taste rather than from harsh necessity.

It may sound somewhat paradoxical, but it is nevertheless strictly true, that one of the most striking evidences of the amount of business transacted on the London Corn Exchange is to be seen when the operations of the day are over, and buyer and seller have alike departed.

While transactions are actively proceeding, the visitor must be struck with a habit indulged in by every regular frequenter-that of dipping the hand lightly into the nearest sample-bag, tasting one

or two of the grains taken out, and allowing the rest to fall to the ground. This very innocent materially assists in producing a result which, under the circumstances, can scarcely be regarded as surprising. The floor becomes thickly strewn with every kind of grain, oats generally predominating, owing to the larger quantity contained in the sample-bags sent to market. While the place is crowded with people the full extent of the deposit is so far apparent that you appear to be treading upon some incongruous compound resembling underdone pease-pudding, but to thoroughly estimate its amount you must see it when everyone has left. Let us have a peep, therefore, at the market now that business is

over.

The place is in the sole possession of the officials, and they are vigorously sweeping the strewn grain into heaps. Very pretty little heaps they are, too; and yonder sacks, twelve to fourteen in number, will soon be filled with them. few minutes more, and the work is done-the sacks are filled.

A

And now, in the innocence of your heart, you perhaps imagine (not being as familiar with grain as le père Goriot) that these sacks of corn-market sweepings are of no earthly use, and that the only object of removing them is to throw them into the dusthole. Oh, childlike simplicity and ignorance! Those sacks will each command a respectable price at the corn-chandler's; and if they were ten times more numerous they would only too eagerly be snatched up. And what then, you ask, is done with them? What is done with them? Do you keep (to paraphrase Mr. Thorley's advertisement), do you keep chickens, ducks, pigs, or cab-horses? If you do, assuredly there was no need to ask that question. Why these sweepings not only find a ready sale, as food for the animals abovenamed, but there is such a wide demand for them that they are actually MANUFACTURED (I know of no more appropriate word) in order to meet that demand! Yes! It is even so. Corn Market sweepings are as regu

lar an article of commerce as pickling vinegar or split peas, and can be obtained to any extent just as readily. And here another branch of this interesting subject opens out.

These sweepings being regularly bought and sold, it follows that the money paid for them goes into somebody's pocket; and that the somebody (to use a colloquial phrase) must make a very good thing of it. Now, who is this fortunate person? In the good old times it was the sweeper of the market, who took away this refuse as a perquisite; and, if tradition speaks truly, the perquisite sometimes brought him in from 1500l. to 1600l. per annum. Fancy a sweeper with 1500l. a year! Even Thackeray's could not have made more out of his crossing by the Mansion House.

Of course this Corn Market sweeper must have had his villa at Dulwich, at Chiselhurst, or at Wanstead. Of course he was a high Tory, drove his trap into town, had a cellar of exceedingly fine old port, and, perhaps, cultivated a taste for Shakspere and the musical glasses. Of course, too, the rougher and more irksome duties of his office, viz., the actual sweeping, was performed by deputy; so that the painful anomaly was not seen of a cultivated gentleman stripping off his coat, tucking up his shirt-sleeves, putting on his apron, grasping his broom, and working away like a housemaid or an errand-boy. Altogether it must have been as pleasant, if not as dignified a berth as that which Sancho Panza pined for.

Alas! it exists no longer. The subject is involved in some obscurity; but a widespread belief prevails in city circles that this appointment, like many others of a somewhat similar kind which formerly contributed to our country's greatness, has so changed with changing times, that virtually it may be said to be abolished. There is an idea abroad that the Committee of the Corn Exchange do their own sweeping themselves, or rather pay fair wages for getting it done, and apply the proceeds to the general fund, out of which current expenses have to be met. If this be so, it is mournful to think of the progress, even in the city, of those subversive ideas of economy and retrenchment which we used to be assured, years ago, would sap the foundation of

our

commercial prosperity, and jostle the very palladium of our national greatness. But if it be not so; if the Corn Exchange Committee still fondly cling to the memory of their sweeper, and respect the sacred traditions of the past, the writer of this paper takes the opportunity of stating that he is acquainted with an individual who would be willing (when the next vacancy occurs) to undertake the duties of the appointment without salary, as an earnest of his zeal and integrity. This announcement is, of course, made in the strictest confidence, and all communications upon the subject (none but principals being treated with) may be addressed to

E. C.

As we got south snow disappeared, and the willow showed, bright and green on the damp land, the commencement of spring. A few primroses appeared, as if halfashamed of being so unfashionably early, and the very young ferns were just beginning to unroll themselves. We must premise that we were going to Torquay without any definite ideas of destination, and did not know where we should spread our blanket for the night.

The town was full, as usual, and, by unforeseen circumstances, we had been unable to provide beforehand. However, we take things coolly, or try to do so usually, and our difficulties were soon brought to an end by the kindness of some friends who met us at the station. We were soon housed, not to perfection, perhaps, for several reasons, but well enough, as we hoped the sun would shine all day long, and the sky continue blue for several weeks. Alas! rain-wind-sleet! that those things should have been seen in Torquay! We grieve to say they were-and more than once. For nearly three weeks the sun showed himself sparingly. He may have been up early at evening parties, or gone to visit the man in the moon; at all events he stayed at home much longer than was agreeable, and the old gardener took advantage of his absence to empty all his watering cans over Torquay. However, we managed to enjoy ourselves very fairly, and we are at this moment considering how we could have got on at all had it not been for kind friends, who cheered and smoothed our much ruffled feathers.

Not far from Torquay there is a lovely little church called Cockington. It is covered with ivy, and is a charming object in spring when the bright colours come on the trees. All the lanes in the neighbourhood are gems; the high and broad banks (terrible waste for the land) are covered with vegetation at this season-which ought to be always pleasant-and the primroses and other wild flowers brighten their sides, while the gnarled and stunted roots of trees form a natural protection at the top, for only a few are

allowed to grow, the rest are cut down year by year.

How it rained and blew! Great guns, decidedly; and Admiral Fitzroy's storm signals were almost always displayed from the signal-post.

When it was fine we managed to get out for a walk, or went to the club; when it was not, we had the privilege of hearing a performance on the piano in the next room, for sometimes ten hours. How the performer could do it we cannot say. Such was the case; fatigue seemed impossible; but our ears were open to satiety, and before we left we knew every note of all the miserable chords and scales. There was never an attempt at a 'piece' or a tune' but it was a lesson of patience for us.

We walked over to Paignton, roamed about, refreshed ourselves at the hotel, and came back by train.

We rambled on the beach, strolled on the strand, and occasionally felt bored, and stayed at home a great deal-by necessity, however, when the rain came down. So, in a desultory manner, a few weeks passed, but a change was coming, and that was our bright time.

We were invited to a 'pretty house in a pretty valley,' not far from Torquay, and thither we went in company with a friend. Torquay we left without regret, and we welcomed the train again with pleasure, for we knew there was a good time coming,' and therefore waited a little longer.'

The country beyond Torbay is pretty and diversified, and rich in country seats. The moor stretches to the right in rich colouring, bleak and barren-looking, however, in spite of the deep-coloured heather.

The valley we were going to started up suddenly (though we ought hardly to say that of a valley) from a range of open hills, and was well-sheltered by very fine woods. A brawling trout stream ran through the woods and valley, and contained many a fine specimen of Master Speckle. We greatly admire Tennyson's poem of the Brook;' this verse applies to many a Devonshire stream:

I wind about, and in and out, With there a blossom sailing, And here and there a lusty trout,

And here and there a grayling.' We cannot say as to the grayling in this particular stream, but it was very full of trout, and a very noisy, leaping brook. It rushed furiously over rocks in a fall of no mean dimensions, and carried a body of foaming water large enough to do serious damage.

The woods at this season were barely commencing to look green, but a few weeks promised to clothe them in their spring brightness and beauty.

The brawling, bubbling' stream. fed a small lake in our host's grounds. It was not wild or romantic enough for a comfortable suicide, but a very jolly little lake notwithstanding, and the speckled trout jumped at the flies continually. A colony of wild ducks swam about on the water, or reposed on an island in the centre. One of them was a famous fellow for diving, and many a time we have imagined there was a fine 'rise' when it was nothing but Billy Dux' (as he was christened) enjoying a 'sensation header.' How well he turned over, just showing his funny little webbed feet, and then disappeared for what seemed a very long time, and at last appeared again, always wet and lively. We hope he found something at the bottom worth diving for; indeed his enemies said he ate the trout, but that was a vile calumny, no doubt. We fear that on land his pace was bad compared with his rivals, for a vicious black duck used to beat him in a hard race, and filch his well-earned bread from him; but once on water, and then Billy's superiority showed itself. Let us hope he reflected that we cannot excel in everything, and that if we act our own parts well we ought to be satisfied. He looked a moralizer -but a waddling one.

Those woods; they were pleasant indeed. We remember quite well some strolls up a steep hill, and then ten minutes' severe 'blow;' although it required luncheon to put renewed vigour into our chest and limbs. And the pretty young

lambs too, reminding one so forcibly of mint sauce, and about luncheon time, indeed, these reminders had a tendency to make one savage; and the bridge, romantic and tarry, with a pretty view of the ever-lovely stream, where a person of an imaginative disposition might fancy he saw the flash of a trout's tail among the foaming masses of water, and thereby add to his mental luncheon.

Glimpses of fair damsels in the woods, too, who would not fall into shallow water, where we might peril our lives on their behalf, and by which we might win a smile and a Royal Humane Society's medal; and pleasant mornings at home, with pleasant and merry talkthese things being agreeable reminiscences to our mind, and make us hate the fog and mud of town more and more, and think of the dark portals and stately courts of the Temple with disdain!

Well, to finish with this sketch; we left that part of the country, having spent as pleasant a time as we ever remember to have passed anywhere, with hopes of seeing it again in the course of our exist

ence.

After all this came, as usual, the prosaic express; and at the station we had to wait some half-hour or more, which time was employed in the wicked consumption of Sir Walter Raleigh's favourite herb, and in petting some dogs that happened to be about. We talked learnedly to a farmer about the crops, and noticed his collie, and, after some conversation, became decidedly of opinion that the dog was far more sensible than his master. Two setters, old and stiff, received at our hands marked attention; and then the huge worm crept quickly up, and carried us off to London,' hys smoke.'

Another time we wanted to go up the river Dart, and made rather a wild-goose chase thither, as follows. We went by train to Brixham, whence we hoped to find a conveyance which was to carry us .on to Dartmouth; but when we arrived there were none. This was tiresome; so we proposed walking the four miles, and another traveller,