In another instance, none but those who have heard the man, would for a moment believe that his cry of "Do you want a brick or brick dust?" could have been possibly mistaken for "Do you want a lick on the head?" An inhabitant of the Adelphi, when an invalid, was much annoyed by the peevish and lengthened cry of "Venny," proceeding every morning and evening from a muffin-man whenever he rang his bell. Many of the old inhabitants of Cavendish Square must recollect the mournful manner in which a weather-beaten Hungerford fisherman cried his "Large silver Eels, live Eels." This man's tones were so melancholy to the ears of a lady in Harley Street that she allowed the fellow five shillings a week to discontinue his cry in that neighbourhood; and there is at the present time a slip-shod wretch who annoys Portland Place and its vicinity generally twice, and sometimes three times a day, with what may be strictly called the braying of an ass, and all his vociferation is to inform the public that he sells water-cresses, though he appears to call "Chick-weed." Another Stentorian bawler, and even a greater nuisance in the same neighbourhood, seems to his unfortunate hearers to deal in "Cats'-meat," though his real cry is "Cabbage-plants." The witty author of a tract entitled, "An Examination of certain Abuses, Corruptions, and Enormities, in the City of Dublin," written in the year 1732, says, "I would advise all new comers to look out at their garret windows, and there see whether the thing that is cried be _Tripes_ or _Flummery_, _Buttermilk_ or _Cowheels_; for, as things are now managed, how is it possible for an honest countryman just arrived, to find out what is meant, for instance, by the following words, '_Muggs, Juggs, and Porringers, up in the Garret, and down in the Cellar?_' I say, how is it possible for a stranger to understand that this jargon is meant as an invitation to buy a farthing's worth of milk for his breakfast or supper?" Captain Grose, in his very entertaining little work, entitled "An Olio," in which there are many interesting anecdotes, notices several perversions of this kind, particularly one of a woman who sold milk. Farthing mutton pies were made and continued to be sold within the memory of persons now living at a house which was then called the "Farthing Pie House," in Marylebone Fields, before the New Road was made between Paddington and Islington, and which house remains in its original state at the end of Norton Street, New Road, bearing the sign of the Green Man. Hand's Bun House at Chelsea was established about one hundred and twenty years since, and probably was the first of its kind. There was also a famous bun-house at the time of George the Second in the Spa Fields, near the New River Head, on the way to Islington, but this was long since pulled down to make way for the sheep-pens, the site of which is now covered with houses.