Smithfield-market will soon be numbered with the things that "have been;" the defenders of dirt must give way, and the foul and musty corners of the City be purified. Should the present work turn up in "a lot" some century hence, our description of Smithfield may be as great a curiosity to the reader then, as Ned Ward's picture of a Lord Mayor's show one hundred and fifty years ago was to us, when we chanced to stumble upon the remains of the tattered old quarto volume in which it has been so long preserved. There is something about this busy market unlike any other that we have ever seen in England--in the mixture of cunning costermongers, and ruddy-faced countrymen; for in it buyers and sellers congregate from every corner of our sea-girt shores, and you hear the language of the provinces, and see costumes from the "nooks and corners" of England, which call up sweet green far-away places, where innocence and simplicity still reside, ignorant of the "fast" life we in this huge city are compelled to live. But we will begin with the eating-houses in and around Smithfield. Nowhere beside in London will you see such immense fat joints as they here cook, or behold such rich marrow puddings; for the eating-house keepers seem to understand the palates of their customers. They know that they have to feed men who put a pound upon their plates at a time; that they have come many a hungry mile through the open and breezy country, and brought ostrich-like stomachs, which are capable of digesting every heavy and solid thing they devour.