Then, here and there among the dense, moving crowds of women in search of cheap saucepans, and those odd lengths of cloth which women of all classes accumulate, I saw the dealers from the more fashionable districts looking for something for five shillings to sell later in the West End for five pounds. There were also numbers of treasure-seekers, men and women--smart, well dressed--collectors of antiques, nosing round like setters for Chippendale chairs, Japanese prints, Chinese jade, and Queen Anne silver. Half the collectors in London make it a point to visit this place every Friday in search of loot; and they walk round like pirate Kings ready to pounce on the instant. Most curious and sad to look upon were the old shoes, poor down-at-heel, crinkly-toed things, standing dressed by the right on their last parade, some with a remote Jermyn Street look about them, others all that remains of someone's ancient corn-ridden aunt. Among a pile of boots which looked as though they had walked every yard of the road to ruin, I saw, tall and upright, a pair of women's riding boots, proud still in their decline. I also saw a pair of gold dance-slippers, somehow naked and ashamed. A large woman was turning this way and that a slim little bride's dress with the faded orange blossom still sewn on it. A white veil went with it, gashed and torn. The fat woman moved on, lured by a decayed washstand, and onward still to flirt a moment with an old brass bedstead. I saw other hands--big coarse hands--pulling this forgotten little bride's dress about, pawing it. What a pity it could not melt away and save itself from this supreme insult! * * * In a corner lying on a sack I saw an Egyptian antiquity. I pounced! "How much?" A young man answered me with an Oxford accent. "Fifteen shillings, sir." I wondered what on earth this superior person was doing there standing back behind a sack spread with antiques. Was it his hobby, or was it a bet? "I think," went on the Oxford voice, "you will agree with me that the hieroglyphs were added at a later period. Perhaps during the Ptolemaic age, though I think the figure is much older, possibly Eighteenth Dynasty." I was astonished to hear this in the Caledonian Market. "No, indeed, sir, I do not do this for fun: I do it for bread and butter. Since the war, you know! Yes; I make enough to live. I have a _flair_ for antiques. I buy cheaply and sell reasonably, and collectors always come to me." Strange spot, the Caledonian Market! As I went out I was offered another skeleton for ten shillings. Cenotaph Ten-thirty A.M. in Whitehall on a cold, grey February morning.