Arizona weekly citizen., 1888-04-21
"HALLES CENTRALES.'
THE PLACE WHERE THE PARISH
 ANS BUY THEIR FOOD.

An Enormous Market House with Acres
 Under COver-Methods of Buying and
 seliing-stirring Scene at ( O'Clock fin
 the Morning.
 There are now twelve pavilions of iron and glass at the Paris Halles Centrales. Each one seems to be devoted to a differ ent sort of edibles, and yet the space thus allotted under cover is little more than half large enough for the city's needs. The four largest pavilions are those where fish, poultry, vegetables and dairy prod uce are sold. All the pavilions are well ventilated, the stalls are commodious and ''down among the dead men" are base ment cellars, where the stall renters are permitted to store such imperishable goods as they have been unable to dis pose of in the course of the day.
 The wagons bringing the meat from slaughter houses and poultry from trains begin to arrive about II o'clock in the evening, and they continue coming throughout the night. The employees lift out the baskets ard arrange them along the sidewalks. In each basket is the car caSs of an animal, either whole or cut up into quarters, and carefully wrapped up in stout canvas; also a label bearing the name of the sender, the weight of the con tents and a sort of bill of lading, which is handed to a market official, who makes from it his memoranda Then n number is placed on all the merchandise which comes from the same shipper, after which the board of health inspector makes his examination, marks a V on all meat that hsa f.,,. nI h,- removed to another place to be looked at more carefully later on. When it is finally found unfit to eat it is coniscated and either sent to the Jardin des Plantes to be thrown to the wild animals, or is totally destroyed.
 In the meantime the forts de la halle, or market porters, have commenced their | part of the common work. Handling the meat which has passed inspection with | large iron hooks, they carry it to the pub | lie weighing station, and when the weight Of each piece has been twice recorded, once by the clerk of the consignee and once by the city's employe, label is fas- | tened to it with galvanized iron pin, and then the meat is hung up in rows to be sold, a h erie, or at public auction, to the retail dealers, and as the pieces are sold the name of the purchaser is written on the other side or the label.
 This is the routine for carcasses and | quarters already prepared, but there is other meat in large quantities which has to undergo two operations known as the | epluchage trimming and the decoupage, or cutting up. This is done by five men, and is difficult and sometimes dangerous work. The decoupeurs wear Q sort of cap, to which a lighted candle is fixed; this is the only light that they have to do 1 their work by, and it must be executed with great rapidity in the midst of crowd | of porters and other market hands There are, it is true, few gas jets here and | there, but not enough of them to enable | the inspectors and cutters to do their work | properly Why don't they burn more l easp Well, because it is known in Paris | that gas is a bad thing for meat and other food, and the less of gus there is used about eatables the better for mankind.
 Four o'clock is the hour when the vente la criee begins. The din is appalling. Strong armed wenches, men and boys are rushing about or pushing trucks bearing hampers full to the brim, and salesmeD | perched aloft in small pulpits bawl their l c.Igrs ih voices which sound like dismal | howls under the zinc rOofnGs, while GUS | toners bid in the same strain The buyers I tors of restaurants and hotels, and caterers to hospitals or asylunIs. These people, by coming early, get their provisions much | cheaper than the public will do in the course of the day. though this is not true l of fish, which is subject to astonishing | fluctuations. The wholesale selling ends l st 6 o'clock, and now cooks and poOz wives | make their appearance by thousands. | It is curious and m instructive scene, | I assure you. that of the markets at an early morning hour.
 The street is SO crowded with people | that wheeled vehicles cannot enter; but l beyond the church stand rows of cabs, | with their horses heads facing the shops on the other side of the little rue that runs | nlouC the front of the ancient ediflce. l Here on the sidewalk stand hundreds of baskets of fruit, grapes and whitish 1 brown things that on closer inspection urove to be mushrooms. There is wide passage between the two lines of pavil- l ions, and at this early hour this passage is that lovely that even you, good people Of l fine golden coast, would cry out: 'fe l gods! how beautiful" !" The colOrs of all the rainbows that have arched them l selves over the earth since Noah went yachting greet our eyes. Ii IS paradise of roses, csmellias, yiolets, primroses, or nll the flowers in the world, at least 1t seems so. Farther on are things which English people call roots, but which we in our superiority pronounce vegetables Hun dreds and hundreds of rows of red carrots, as many more rows of white turnips; rows three or four feet high, mind you, and so slillfully piled that no vestige or the green stems can be seen, and yet tc each root is such an appendage. And the cabbages and the caulifiOwers! and the baskets of string beans and peas! and the green stuffs for salads! and the potatoes,
 "Arrah, the spudsr' RS heard the gentle man-he may even now be one Of our frst citizens for all l know-say once upon time fin Dublin.
 4 little further on are the fishes, on
 wicker platters. like round basket hds with handles on either side, turoot,
 skate, mackerel, sole, salmon, perch, etc.,
 in ten, fifteen and twenty pairs at a tliiie' | These fshwonien are not those Of BlIhnSs-
 Cate, but they will do. l have no wish 70 come into contest with muscular req arms; and, phew heaven knows they are inst now strong enough tO knock Johh Sullivan himself out of time. Parislahs like fish, and consume yearly an average Of very nearly 5l ,000, GOO pounds thereof. -
 Henry Haynie in San Francisco Chronicle Ben: Perley POore's Farm
 T.