~297~~ “Yes,” continued Tom, “Cockney is universally known to be the contemptuous appellation given to an uneducated native of London, brought into life within the sound of Bow bell--pert and conceited, yet truly ignorant, they generally discover themselves by their mode of speech, notwithstanding they have frequent opportunities of hearing the best language; the cause, I apprehend, is a carelessness of every thing but the accumulation of money, which is considered so important with them--that they seem at all times to be in eager pursuit of it. “O Plutus, god of gold! thine aid impart, Teach me to catch the money-catching art; Or, sly Mercurius! pilfering god of old, Thy lesser mysteries at least unfold.” You will hear these gentry frequently deliver themselves in something like the following manner: “My eyes, Jim, vat slippy valking 'tis this here morning--I should ave fell'd right down if so be as how I adn't cotch'd ould of a postis--vere does you thinks I ave been? vy all the vay to Vapping Vail, an a top o Tower Hill--I seed a voman pillar'd--such scrouging and squeeging, and peltin vith heggs--ow funny! “A female Fruit-seller will say to a Lady Oyster-dealer--Law, my dear Mrs. Melton, how ar you this cowld morning, Mem.?--the streets vil be nice and dirty--vel, for my part, I always likes dry vether--do your usband vork at Foxall still?--I likes to warm my cowld nose vith a pinch of your snuff--ow wery obliging--But come, I hear the bustle of Billingsgate, and you shall have a peep at the people. By this time they are all alive.” Bob laughed at his Cousin's specimens of cockney language, and they sallied forth, to make further observations. It was now a fine morning, the Sun shone with resplendent lustre upon all around them, and danced in playful dimples on the sportive Thames; there was however but little opportunity at the moment for them to contemplate subjects of this sort, their eyes and ears being wholly attracted by the passing and repassing of the persons desirous to sell or supply themselves with fish; Thames Street was almost blocked up with carts, and the hallooing and bawling of the different drivers, loading or unloading, formed an occasional symphony to the ~298~~ continual hum of those who were moving in all directions to and from the market. “By yer leaf” said a sturdy built fellow, sweating under a load of fish which appeared to press him almost down--“what the devil do you stand in the way for?”