strength, he hurried on. At last the wagon came to a place that he
saw was a market. There were no buyers yet, but men were flitting
round under the long arcades of the market-houses, with lanterns
under their arms, among boxes and barrels of melons, apples,
potatoes, onions, beans, carrots, and other vegetables, which the
country carts as they arrived continually unloaded. The smell of
peaches and cantaloupes filled the air, and made Lemuel giddy as he
stood and looked at the abundance. The men were not saying much; now
and then one of them priced something, the owner pretended to figure
on it, and then they fell into a playful scuffle, but all silently.
A black cat lay luxuriously asleep on the canvas top of a barrel of
melons, and the man who priced the melons asked if the owner would
throw the cat in. There was a butcher's cart laden with carcasses of
sheep, and one of the men asked the butcher if he called that stuff
mutton. "No; imitation," said the butcher. They all seemed to be
very good-natured. Lemuel thought he would ask for an apple; but he
could not.

The neighbouring restaurants began to send forth the smell of
breakfast, and he dragged up and down till he could bear it no
longer, and then went into one of them, meaning to ask for some job
by which he could pay for a meal. But his shame again would not let
him. He looked at the fat, white-aproned boy drawing coffee hot from
a huge urn, and serving a countryman with a beefsteak. It was close
and sultry in there; the open sugar-bowl was black with flies, and a
scent of decaying meat came from the next cellar. "Like some nice
fresh dough-nuts?" said the boy to Lemuel. He did not answer; he
looked around as if he had come in search of some one. Then he went
out, and straying away from the market, he found himself after a
while in a street that opened upon the Common.