slowly and irresolutely in front of his stall, where he has hung out for sale the side of an ox, neither the youngest nor fattest. “Fine grass-fed beef, ma’am – none better to be had in the district. What shall I send you home – sirloin, ribs, a tender steak? ”
“It would be a difficult matter to do that,” responds the good wife, with some asperity in look and tone. “It seems hard and old; some lean cow you have killed, to save her from dying of the consumption.”
“No danger of the fat setting fire to the lum” – suggests a rival in the trade. “Here’s a fine veal, ma’am, fatted upon the milk of two cows.”
“Looks,” says the comely dame, passing on to the next stall, “as if it had been starved upon the milk of one.”
Talking of markets puts me in mind of a trick – a wicked trick – but, perhaps, not the less amusing on that account, that was played off in Toronto market last year by a young medical student, name unknown. It was the Christmas week, and the market was adorned with evergreens, and dressed with all possible care. The stalls groaned beneath the weight of good cheer – fish, flesh, and fowl, all contributing their share to tempt the appetite and abstract money from the purse. It was a sight to warm the heart of the most fastidious epicure, and give him the nightmare for the next seven nights, only dreaming of that stupendous quantity of food to be masticated by the jaws of man. One butcher had the supreme felicity of possessing a fine fat heifer, that had taken the prize at the provincial agricultural show; and the monster of fat, which was justly considered the pride of the market, was hung up in the most conspicuous place in order to attract the gaze of all beholders.
Dr. C—, a wealthy doctor of laws, was providing good cheer for the entertainment of a few choice friends on Christmas-day, and ordered of the butcher four ribs of the tempting-looking beef. The man, unwilling to cut up the animal until she had enjoyed her full share of admiration, wrote upon a piece of paper, in large characters, “Prize Heifer – four ribs for Dr. C—;” this he pinned upon the carcase of the beast. Shortlyafter the doctor quitted the market, and a very fat young lady and her mother came up to the stall to make some purchases, our student was leaning carelessly against it, watching with bright eyes the busy scene; and being an uncommonly mischievous fellow, and very fond of practical jokes, a thought suddenly struck him of playing off one upon the stout young lady. Her back was towards him, and dexterously abstracting the aforementioned placard from the side of the heifer, he transferred it to the shawl of his unsuspecting victim, just where its ample folds comfortably encased her broad shoulders.
After a while the ladies left the market, amidst the suppressed titters and outstretched fore-fingers of butchers and hucksters, and all the idle loafers that generally congregate in such places of public resort. All up the length of King-street walked the innocent damsel, marvelling that the public attention appeared exclusively bestowed upon her. Still, as she passed along, bursts of laughter resounded on all sides, and the oft-repeated words, “Prize Heifer – four ribs for Dr. C—;” it was not until she reached her own dwelling that she became aware of the trick.
The land to the east, north, and west of Belleville, rises to a considerable height, and some of the back townships, like Huntingdon and Hungerford, abound in lofty hills. There is in the former township, on the road leading from Rawdon village to Luke’s tavern, a most extraordinary natural phenomenon. The road for several miles runs along the top of a sharp ridge, so narrow that it leaves barely breadth enough for two waggons to pass in safety. This ridge is composed of gravel, and looks as if it had been subjected to the action of water. On either side of this huge embankment there is a sheer descent into a finely
“It would be a difficult matter to do that,” responds the good wife, with some asperity in look and tone. “It seems hard and old; some lean cow you have killed, to save her from dying of the consumption.”
“No danger of the fat setting fire to the lum” – suggests a rival in the trade. “Here’s a fine veal, ma’am, fatted upon the milk of two cows.”
“Looks,” says the comely dame, passing on to the next stall, “as if it had been starved upon the milk of one.”
Talking of markets puts me in mind of a trick – a wicked trick – but, perhaps, not the less amusing on that account, that was played off in Toronto market last year by a young medical student, name unknown. It was the Christmas week, and the market was adorned with evergreens, and dressed with all possible care. The stalls groaned beneath the weight of good cheer – fish, flesh, and fowl, all contributing their share to tempt the appetite and abstract money from the purse. It was a sight to warm the heart of the most fastidious epicure, and give him the nightmare for the next seven nights, only dreaming of that stupendous quantity of food to be masticated by the jaws of man. One butcher had the supreme felicity of possessing a fine fat heifer, that had taken the prize at the provincial agricultural show; and the monster of fat, which was justly considered the pride of the market, was hung up in the most conspicuous place in order to attract the gaze of all beholders.
Dr. C—, a wealthy doctor of laws, was providing good cheer for the entertainment of a few choice friends on Christmas-day, and ordered of the butcher four ribs of the tempting-looking beef. The man, unwilling to cut up the animal until she had enjoyed her full share of admiration, wrote upon a piece of paper, in large characters, “Prize Heifer – four ribs for Dr. C—;” this he pinned upon the carcase of the beast. Shortlyafter the doctor quitted the market, and a very fat young lady and her mother came up to the stall to make some purchases, our student was leaning carelessly against it, watching with bright eyes the busy scene; and being an uncommonly mischievous fellow, and very fond of practical jokes, a thought suddenly struck him of playing off one upon the stout young lady. Her back was towards him, and dexterously abstracting the aforementioned placard from the side of the heifer, he transferred it to the shawl of his unsuspecting victim, just where its ample folds comfortably encased her broad shoulders.
After a while the ladies left the market, amidst the suppressed titters and outstretched fore-fingers of butchers and hucksters, and all the idle loafers that generally congregate in such places of public resort. All up the length of King-street walked the innocent damsel, marvelling that the public attention appeared exclusively bestowed upon her. Still, as she passed along, bursts of laughter resounded on all sides, and the oft-repeated words, “Prize Heifer – four ribs for Dr. C—;” it was not until she reached her own dwelling that she became aware of the trick.
The land to the east, north, and west of Belleville, rises to a considerable height, and some of the back townships, like Huntingdon and Hungerford, abound in lofty hills. There is in the former township, on the road leading from Rawdon village to Luke’s tavern, a most extraordinary natural phenomenon. The road for several miles runs along the top of a sharp ridge, so narrow that it leaves barely breadth enough for two waggons to pass in safety. This ridge is composed of gravel, and looks as if it had been subjected to the action of water. On either side of this huge embankment there is a sheer descent into a finely
Similar Books
