A fine plank road connects it with the latter place, and the whole distance is one continuous street. Many of the houses by the wayside are pretty ornamental cottages, composed of brick or stone. An immense traffic in flour and lumber is carried on at this place, and the plank road has proved a very lucrative speculation to the shareholders.

In 1840, there was but one bank agency in Belleville, now there are four, three of which do a great business. At that period we had no market, although Saturday was generally looked upon as the market-day; the farmers choosing it as the most convenient to bring to town their farm produce for sale. Our first market-house was erected in 1849; it was built of wood, and very roughly finished. This proved but poor economy in the long run, as it was burnt down the succeeding year. A new and more commodious one of brick has been erected in its place, and it is tolerably supplied with meat and vegetables; but these articles are both dearer and inferior in quality to those offered in Kingston and Toronto. This, perhaps, is owing to the tardiness shown by the farmers in bringing in their produce, which they are obliged to offer first for sale in the market, or be subjected to a trifling fine. There is very little competition, and the butchers and town grocery-keepers have it their own way. A market is always a stirring scene. Here politics, commercial speculations, and the little floating gossip of the village, are freely talked over and discussed. To those who feel an interest in the study of human nature, the market affords an ample field. Imagine a conversation like the following, between two decently dressed mechanics’ wives:

“How are you, Mrs. G—?”

“Moderate, I thank you. Did you hear how old P—was to-day?”

“Mortal bad.”

“Why! you don’t say. Our folks heard that he was getting quite smart. Is he dangerous?”

“The doctor has given him up entirely.”

“Well, it will be a bad job for the family if he goes. I’ve he’rd that there won’t be money enough to pay his debts. But what of this marriage? They do say that Miss A—is to be married to old Mister B—.”

“What are her friends thinking about to let that young gal marry that old bald-headed man?”

“The money to be sure – they say he’s rich.”

“If he’s rich, he never made his money honestly.”

“Ah, he came of a bad set,” – with a shake of the head.

And so they go on, talking and chatting over the affairs of the neighbourhood in succession. It is curious to watch the traits of character exhibited in buyer and seller. Both exceed the bounds of truth and honesty. The one, in his eagerness to sell his goods, bestowing upon them the most unqualified praise; the other depreciating them below their real value, in order to obtain them at an unreasonably low price.

“Fine beef, ma’am,” exclaims an anxious butcher, watching, with the eye of a hawk, a respectable citizen’s wife, as she paces slowly and irresolutely in front of his stall, where he has hung out for sale the side of an ox, neither the youngest nor fattest. “Fine grass-fed beef, ma’am – none better to be had in the district. What shall I send you home – sirloin, ribs, a tender steak? ”

“It would be a difficult matter to do that,” responds the good wife, with some asperity in look and tone. “It seems hard and old; some lean cow you have killed, to save her from dying of the consumption.”

“No danger of the fat setting fire to the lum” – suggests a rival in the trade. “Here’s a fine veal, ma’am, fatted upon the milk of two cows.”

“Looks,” says the comely dame, passing on to the next stall, “as if it had been starved upon the milk of one.”

Talking of markets puts me in mind of a trick – a wicked trick – but, perhaps, not the less amusing on that account, that was played off in Toronto market last year by a young medical student, name unknown. It was the Christmas week, and the market was adorned with evergreens, and dressed with all possible care. The stalls groaned beneath the weight of good cheer – fish, flesh, and fowl, all contributing their share to tempt the appetite and abstract money from the purse. It was a sight to warm the heart of the most fastidious epicure, and give him the nightmare for the next seven nights, only dreaming of that stupendous quantity of food to be masticated by the jaws of man. One butcher had the supreme felicity of possessing a fine fat heifer, that had taken the prize at the provincial agricultural show; and the monster of fat, which was justly considered the pride of the market, was hung up in the most conspicuous place in order to attract the gaze of all beholders.

Dr.