Now bundles of rhubarb, that run all to water in the pies and puddings, may be seen in the greengrocers' shops; and little new waxy potatoes, that have no taste, are ticketed a shilling a pound; and small gooseberries, that have the flavour of green-tea leaves, given to the old charwoman, and which she has kept stewing on the hob for a full hour, are ditto per half pint; and asparagus, that looks like candle-wicks, is tied up in bundles; while little salads made of two radishes, a couple of onions, a few slices of beet-root, mustard, cress, and a halfpenny bunch of water-cresses, sit in little baskets marked sixpence, and try to tempt the passers-by to purchase. Now men, who smell of the aroma of old woods, stand before the doors of public-houses, with young honeysuckles and eglantine, the roots buried in moss; and violets and primroses, fresh and blowing in their own native earth, just as they were dug up on the sunny banks by Sanderstead, or in the tree-shaded lanes around Cobham. Finally, old hats, boots, shoes, and cast-off garments of every description are routed out at the cry of "All a-blowing! all a-growing!" and exchanged for flowers, the bearers of which barter on the principle of getting all they can and giving as little as possible in return. Even the lady of the house cannot resist the entreaties of her children, who, attracted by the well-known call, and the sight of the basket of flowers outside the window, drag her to the door, and let her have no peace until she has purchased the lovely heath, the beautiful Iris, the pot of American primroses, or the gaudier group of gold and silver-coloured crocuses. The servant-girl must also have her flower-pot in the high attic window, and she looks at it the first thing in the morning and the last at night, and feels thankful, in the words of Solomon, that "the winter is past, the rain is over and gone; the flowers appear on the earth, the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land." [Illustration] CHAPTER XX. LONDON CEMETERIES AND THE EPIDEMIC IN 1849.