Twice round the clock; or, The hours of the day and night in London . Piazza, over against the market. But six oclock in the glorious summer time ! The London smokeis not out of bed yet, and indeed Covent Garden market would at alltimes seem to possess an exemption from over fumigation. If youconsider the fronts of the houses, and the arches of the Piazza, youwill see that though tinted by age, they have not that sooty grimnessthat degrades St. Pauls cathedral into the similitude of a templededicated to the worship of the goddess of chimney-sweepers^ andmakes the East India House (what will th
Twice round the clock; or, The hours of the day and night in London . Piazza, over against the market. But six oclock in the glorious summer time ! The London smokeis not out of bed yet, and indeed Covent Garden market would at alltimes seem to possess an exemption from over fumigation. If youconsider the fronts of the houses, and the arches of the Piazza, youwill see that though tinted by age, they have not that sooty grimnessthat degrades St. Pauls cathedral into the similitude of a templededicated to the worship of the goddess of chimney-sweepers^ andmakes the East India House (what will they do with the India Housewhen the directors are demolished?) look like the outside of theblack-hole at Calcutta. Smoke has been merciful to Covent Gardenmarket, and its cornucopia is not as dingy as a ramoneurs sack. Allnight long the heavily-laden wagons—mountains of cabbages, cauli-flowers, brocoli, asparagus, carrots, turnips, and seakale; Egyptianpyramids of red-huddled baskets full of apples and pears, hecatombs S] - 0 OliOCK —CGVENT GARDEN MARKET. 41. 42 TWICE ROUND THE CLOCK. of cherries, holocausts of strawberry pottles, chair wicker bosomscrimsoned by sanguinolent spots ; and above all, piles, heaps—Pelionson Ossas, Atlases on Olympuses, Chimborazos on Himalayas, MountAboras on Mont Blancs—of Peas, have been creaking and rumblingand heavily wheezing along surburban roads, and through the mainstreets of the never-sleeping city. You heard those broad groaningwheels, perturbed man, as your head tossed uneasily on the pillow;and you thought of the bill that was to come due on the too heard them, pretty maiden, in the laced night cap, as youbedewed that delicate border of dentelle with tears, coursing fromthe eyes which should have been closed in sleep two hours since,tears evoked by the atrocious behaviour of Edward (a monster andmember of the Stock Exchange) towards Clara (a designing, wicked,artful thing, whose papa lives in Torrington Square) dur
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Keywords: ., bookauthormcconnel, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1850, bookyear1859
