[Picture: Billingsgate]
The only fish-market in London, to which the fishing-smacks bring their
cargoes. Whoever goes to Billingsgate, at market-time, must expect to be
pushed about and dirtied. The crowd is generally very great, and the
people very noisy, and some are quite abusive to strangers.
There goes a tall fish-woman sounding her cry,
“Who’ll buy my fine flounders, and oysters who’ll buy?”
Poor flounder, he heaves up his fin with a sigh,
And thinks that _he_ has most occasion to cry;
“Ah, neighbour,” says oyster, “indeed, so do I.”
It is supposed that more money is taken at this place for shell-fish, in
a year, than there is at Smithfield for butchers’ meat in the same
period. Within these few years, great quantities of salmon have been
sent from Scotland to Billingsgate in summer-time, preserved in ice,
which had been stored up in winter for that salutary purpose. The ice,
when taken from the fish, is sold to confectioners and pastry-cooks, for
forming ice-creams in summer.