Vol. VI No. 1 - Modernist Magazines Project

» CURB-STONE FINANCIERS
I jostled with the poorly-clad crowd until I came to that part of
the market where fish is displayed in prominence. Three stalls of
this odorous substance were standing together. Many women of the
"no hat and shawl" type were sorting out and digging their nails in
the various species, while under one stall lay a cat (no doubt overcome
by the fumes). The noise in this part of the market was like the smell,
overwhelming. The gutter was greasy, the costers were greasy and
the money which changed hands was greasy. The aroma from the fish
not only attracted customers but multitudes of flies, which had taken
possession. About six inches from my ear, a high pitched voice had
started to shout "Beet roots, beet roots, they're lo'ly they're lo'ly!" I
turned my head and saw a rather plump lady of about forty summers
waving a juicy beet root perilously near to my face.
"Try one, they're good!" I fled.
- The next thing which claimed my attention was a second-hand
clothes stall. Here the air was clearer and voices a little quieter. The
voice of the sales lady could easily be heard. "Now this gown, me lidies,
belonged to a titled person, and was made in Paris."
I was greatly impressed by this dramatic exclamation, and turning
my eyes from the over-dressed owner of the stall to the garment in
question, I could not help thinking that the "titled lady" who had once
owned the garment must have been dead at least fifty years, and I was
somewhat puzzled when a gown with such a pedigree was sold for two
shillings. Stockings which had been renovated many times by some
patient hand, were sold for anything from a penny to threepence a
pair. Everything on this stall was sold by auction and I could have
bought myself a pair of trousers from a deceased lord's wardrobe for
the price of a new handkerchief.
One article held up by the auctioneer caused quite a stir. It
resembled a small handleless basket with numerous artificial flowers
intertwined on the outside of it. It was held aloft for a minute that all
might gaze and wonder on such workmanship, before the particulars
were given, and then they came. "Now, this 'ere 'at, lidies, is the latest
fashion an' worth a poun', it's new, and the flowers are real silk." This
startling statement was left to soak in, on the hearers, and its effect was
good. In an instant the hat (for such it was) was with the crowd and
being handed round for those who wished to try it on. After five
attempts it found a resting place, and the buyer walked away with the
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