“Let us step aside,” said Dashall, “hostilities are about to commence.”
He was right; a few more irritable preliminaries, and the heroines came in contact, in due order of battle.
“Two to one on the Munster-woman.” “Done! Ulster for ever! go it Kate!—handle your dawdles, my girl;—shiver her ivory;—darken her skylights;—flatten her sneizer;—foul, foul,—ah you Munster b——ch!”
“Fair, fair;—arrah, now for the honor of Munster;—dig away;—mind your hits;—rattle her bread basket;—set her claret-spout a-going;—stand firm on your pegs;—what, down!”
Thus ended round the first; the amazons had, in the fray, reduced each other from the waist upwards to nearly a state of nudity. On either side the partisans were numerous, the combatants eager to renew the fight, and the spectators, the majority of whom were of Irish distraction, anxious for the result, when the officious interposition of official authority, terminated the “tug of war,” and the honor of the two provinces remained undecided.—
“Success to the land that gave Patrick his birth.” Tranquillity thus restored, a new scene in the drama of Fleet-market attracted the attention of the two visitants.
A rabbit pole-woman passing through the market, was accosted by a lady, who enquiring the price of the Rabbits, purchased a couple, in front of the shop of a similar exhibitant.—This was considered by the rabbit-dealers of the market, a gross breach of privilege, more particularly as the obnoxious female had presumed to undersell them, even with a superior article. Not willing, however, from prudential reasons, to appear in avowed personal hostility against the object of their vengeance, and that, too, a woman, who had inadvertently incurred the displeasure of their high mightinesses, the subordinate agency of boys was deputed for the purpose of wrecking summary retribution; and the juvenile deputation quickly overthrew in the apparent wantonness of mischief, the whole of the poor girl's day-property, and scrambling for the spoil, disseminated themselves in different directions, leaving not the vestige of a rabbit behind!
A torrent of tears, feelingly shewed the anguish of her mind. She was ruined beyond hope of redemption; the rabbits she had every morning on credit, she plied the streets in selling them, through many a wearisome hour in the day, happy if next morning, having realized a very moderate profit by her laborious vocation, she could settle accounts with the wholesale dealer, and take a fresh cargo with which to commence another day's adventure.—But now, wringing her hands in an agony of grief, “It is all over with me!” she exclaimed,—” my means of subsistence is gone,—my credit is lost,—and God's will be done,—I must go home and starve!”{1}
1 It is scarcely credible that one salesman in Leadenhall market, at the present time, sells on an average 14,000 rabbits weekly. He contracts with the coach masters for the carriage, and pays them eleven pounds per thousand, amounting, weekly, to £154. The way he disposes of them, is by employing 150 travelling pole-men and women; in the morning they are started upon credit, and the next day they return, bringing back the skins, settle the accounts, and then take a fresh cargo.
Ever prone to relieve distress, Dashall and Tallyho sympathized most sincerely with this unfortunate girl; there was an indescribable something of extreme interest about her, which was well calculated to excite a feeling of generous commiseration.