Anti-slavery bugle. [volume] (New-Lisbon, Ohio) 1845-1861, 1857-07-18
THE ANTI-SLAVERY BUGLE.

their pprtcCtiOn. i ne COltle SHlPbmhn NlNhlS ~
the before mentioned ash stick.
An prcconceiyed notions of the noise and riot OF
vt n cattle market are upset ut Copenhagen where
one Of the principal brokers' has--in style Of face
figure. in the cut oG his inevitably greasy
in his nent though muddy boots, and his
West end accent aud subdued manner,
while praising II halt-score of Scots-very much
the idea of a gytr,rdsman in disguise, selling cattle
for a wager. Nevertheless the greater number OF
these gentlemen are known as Bob this or Tom
that a fact which the observant reader will know
how to appreciate. The most celebrated have a
certain Jolly Independent air, tempered by a dash
of the capitalist. They ride neat hacks when of
duty, arc to be found with their families in season
in Brighton or Paris, and altogether occupy n
happy intermediate position between the slow agri-
~culturist and tho fast gents Of Capel Court. They
are OBLIGED, in order to succeed, to understand
both beasts and men.
The business Of Copenhagen market is done
with few words, a good deal of quiet pantomine,
and a total absence of those shrieks and furious
gesticulntiOns without which no lrishman, WEIGH
MANI French Celt can conclude a public bargain.
For instance, as | came up to my grazier friend,
an excited butcher asked the price of n pair OF
uerefords out Of u score under his charge. Tom
began by gently tapping one beast, to make him
stand apart, at the same time saying, Forty
pounds" Then he went through the pantomine
of showing a "level back, q deep girth," PIN
zones VIGIL CONtIcut GOunui cNOh b'iiOi mSN"
touch" Butcher makes an offer in a whisper,
Cant do it, Mr.. Suet," replies Tom. Butcher
handles the beast in n depreciatory style, walks
away II few yards, and then returns briskly, ex-
tending a remarkably red, ruddy, greasy hand,
like the claw Of a huge roc, crying, shake hands,
Mister Aslstick, on thirty-nine pounds" Cant
do it, Mr.. Suctt." Suet throws up both hands in
disgust. and walks of, lingering and exclsiming,
well, Mr.. A., to turn off an old customer for a
hound! Well I'll tell every one you are n gentle
man-except to me I" Every sorry, Mr., Suet, but
I'm a man of BUSH ess, and that pays better" ST
Suet, pathetically deploring, departs; but, when
! return in a quarter of an hour he has bought
not two, but four bullocks, and is cheerfully en-
gagged in cutting his mark with a pair of scissors
on the beasts hair, while an assistant, with n moi
too sharp knife, shaves off the flowing honOrs Of
each tail, reducing them to rats, and consigning
the hair to G market bag provided for the purpose
The next step is the payment. No money pass
es. The butcher having aScertained where th'
banks, proceeds there, and pays in The
price agreed. In olden time, those who are nov
bankers were called money takers" They mere
~ received the money from each butcher, count
ed 1t over TO see that the amount was correct, th'
golf and notes genuine, and delivered it up in sep
arate packets at the end of the day TO the sales
man. But, in the course of time, thew have grown
INTO n sort OF cattle brokers transacting all tn,
business connected with the disposal of the cattl,
except the sale. For instance, the farmers or gra
Tiers, who for six or nine months of the year senC
up cattle and sheep every week to the market
have a regular account with one of the market
bankers, although they also employ a salesman
for their beasts, and another for their sheep. The
grazier who is despatching from-say, Norfolk
by rail. for the Christmas market, a score of bul
locks, and five score sheep, writes a sort of letter
or advice, with an invoice TO the salesman, and
also, to the banker. The stock on arriving at tn,
London station, are received by an agent of tn
I 49,
who, for a fee Of so much per head (~sixpence 70
bullocksl, secs them properly driven and tied u
in the market. On the morning Of the sale, tn
upholder waits until each bargain is concluded
When a butcher has purchased anything, he says
"Where do you bank ?" The salesman ans wer
perhaps, with Challis." The butcher proceed
to Challis's bank, accompanied or followed by tt
upholder, and says, 81 want to pay for two Her
ford bullocks bought from Bob Moxon 1.-THE sale
man). Eighty two.pounds." The upholder ha
ing satisfied himself that the money has been pa
permits the butcher to cut his hieroglyp pixies on Il
beasts, to shave the tufts from their tails. and
: drive them away.
n In the evening, the salesman calls over al
+ checks his list and his sales for the day. with o.
G of the bank clerks; after which the bankers ma
r out the account Of the salesman, including eve
g item of his sales. for, perhaps, a dozen consig
n ees, and the total of his commission. Also q ser
o rate account for each country customer, with t
deductions for commissions, market-fees, &c.
This is sent by post, generally the same night,
n the countryman, with either a cheque for the b;
t anco due to him, or advice that the amount h
d been paid in to the London agents of the graziel
b country bankers.
d Thus, it will be seen that the bankers save Il
statesmen almost all the trouble of accounts al
9 correspondence. In Scotland, banking is extern
ed to fairs of lean stock, and most purchases a
: paid in cheques on banks which open p~eripatet
I branches for the accommodation of their agricl
u tural customers.
The next stage of the beasts sold, is either
Il the suburbs and villages round London, ind
u charge Of the licensed drovers, or to the slaught
house of the butcher.
7 Ny morning concluded with a visit to one Of t
market %tavcrns, which | found crowded wi
! butcher lads and drovers, in the bar and the tai
i grazieIs and topping butchers upstairs belo
chiefly beer an gin above, tea, coffee. and furio
assaults on cold meat. in one room n skin mt
chant sat, with bowls of sovereigns, rolls of not,
: and huge cheque book before him while thr
assistants, in blue short smocks, were busy cour
ing some square yards of silver into heaps. 7
skin merchant was accommodating those of
butcher clients who had no banking accoul
IL with gold, or notes, or cheques for their heaps
a silver. 1t was a droll contrast to the bars a
cages OF a French money-changer. The roo
! was not private, pipes were smoked, pots We
a drained by strangers, looking on at financial ira
a actions that would have astonished a Fren
q city.
4 In conclusion, / can only say, if any one, aid
I derman or other man wantsa proof of the civi,
ing influences Of space, light, and order, lot h
!. remember old Smithfeld, and then 60 and look
y the Copenhagen Market.
THE IRON HARP.
Il "