The London public are not of the opinion of Shelley, that flesh of bullocks and sheep, when properly cooked, is the true cause of original sin, and that to regain the innocence of the Garden of Eden we have but to have recourse solely to a vegetarian diet. This doctrine has never been a popular one, and from the earliest time the contrary has found favour in the eyes of men. With what gusto does Homer describe the banquets before the walls of Troy, when heroes were the guests, and where divine Achilles was the head cook! The custom of eating baked and boiled is one of the few good things we have to thank antiquity for. Our jolly Scandinavian forefathers considered eating horse rump steak a sign of orthodox paganism; and at this very moment, if the _Times_ be a correct index of the national sentiment, the great question that agitates the mind of the middle class public, that public in which, according to general opinion, all the piety, and patriotism, and wisdom of the land is concentrated, is not as to peace or war—not as to Reform or Social Science—or education or religion—not as to how the vice and impiety of the day may be grappled with and reclaimed—but as to how a man may genteelly dine his friends, and, with an income of a few hundreds, provide a repast that shall rival that of one whose income consists of as many thousands. Really, the force of folly can no further go. Hence, then, it is clear that to the present customs of society a cattle-market of some kind is essential. At one time it was held in Smithfield. There it was a dangerous nuisance. The wise men of London did as they generally do in such matters—first denied that it was a nuisance at all, and when they were driven from that position, and compelled to yield to public indignation, moved it a little further off.