DOG MARKET. Ar Paris, on one day in every week, namely, on Sunday, there is a dog market, held in a place which on Wednesdays and Saturdays is a horse market, and which, wearing, as is lawful in heraldry, its highest title, is called "Le Marché aux Chevaux.” 1 On proceeding there on Sunday, at about half past one o'clock, I found myself in a rectangular open space, 240 yards long by 44 yards broad, surrounded by a high wall, divided lengthways down the middle by a stout oaken post and rail fence, on each side of which was a paved road, bounded by grass, shaded by a triple row of trees. In the centre of the oak fence was a large fountain of water. Beneath the trees, and parallel with the two paved roads, were stout oaken rails divided into pens, each bearing the name of the horsedealer to whom it belonged, and which, even if empty, no one unauthorised by himself can use. The horses, affixed to these rails by rings which Horse-market. continue the whole length of the market, stand shaded by the trees. Near to them is an office on which is painted, in large black letters, “Bureau du Vétérinaire et de l'Inspecteur chargés de la surveillance du Marché aux Chevaux." 991 At the entrance of the market there exists a little wooden office, on which is written, in letters bearing in size about the same proportion to those of the above superscription that a dog does to a horse, "Le concierge reçoit le signalement des chiens perdus, et en fait les recherches. S'adresser sous la vestibule en face, la porte à gauche." Taking off my hat, I introduced myself as a stranger seeking for information to the concierge, or keeper of the dog market, before whose tiny office were arranged on a tableseveral were hanging on both sides of the door a great variety of muzzles to be hired for the day by dogs, none of whom are allowed, under any pretext, to enter the market without one. After talking some time to the concierge during the short intervals in which he was not Office of the veterinary surgeon and of the inspector charged with the superintendence of the horse-market. The concierge receives the description of lost dogs, and endeavours to recover them. Apply under the archway in front, to the right. professionally engaged, I entered the market, in which I found about 280 arrant curs, all wearing very odd-looking wire nose-gear, which, projecting about two inches beneath their lower jaws, gave their mouths the appearance of being what is called "underhung." Dogs were barking-dogs were yelping-dogs were squealing in all directions. Several were surrounded by a crowd of spectators, silently gaping down at them. In one direction I saw a fox-dog-retained by a string tied to the oaken horse-rails -on his hind legs, pawing with both feet to get to another dog about twenty yards off, that appeared equally anxious to come to him. On the ground there lay panting a large, coarse-looking Newfoundland dog; near him a basket of fat puppies whining; behind them a woman nursing one of the family in her lap. A servant-maid, as she kept strolling about, was leading, as if it had been a child, an Italian greyhound. One sandy-coloured dog, little bigger than a very large rat, and with cropped ears which made him look as sharp as a flea, I was assured was a year old. Near him stood a dog barking to get at his master, dressed in a blouse, who had not only tied him to a post, but who every now and then "sacrebleued" him for barking. Beside him, looking at the faithful creature with infinitely kinder feelings, was standing in wooden sabots, with a crimsoncoloured handkerchief wound round her head so as to leave the ends sticking out, the dog's master's wife, in short, his own "missus," who evidently did not like to see him sold. In another direction I observed a great mastiff standing near two women, one of whom held in her arms two puppies, the other a small dog with very lank rough hair, that stuck out all around him like the prickles of a hedgehog. Close to a very savage-looking yard-dog tied to a rail, which no one seemed disposed to approach, two women were seated on the ground, each with a dog in her lap. Near them a stout, tall peasant in a blouse held out and up in one hand, at arm's length, a puppy, looking, in comparison to his own size, like a mouse. On the ground were seated several men, with baskets full of yellow greasy-looking cakes; beside them appeared stretched out for sale an immense dog-skin. The owner of every dog pays for the use of the muzzle-if he has hired one-five sous, but the animal himself is admitted into the market free; whereas on Wednesdays and Saturdays each horse pays 10 sous, carriages on two wheels 15 sous, on four wheels 25 sous, goats and asses 4 sous apiece. At the farther end of the market is a place of trial of the strength of draught horses, composed of a steep, circular, paved ascending and descending road, surrounded by posts and rails, and shaded by trees. At the entrance stands a small bureau, for levying a payment of five sous for each horse, and a chain for preventing its admission until the money has been paid. As there is nothing like getting to the bottom of a subject, on leaving the dog-market I walked for some little distance to the Rue Poliveau, a large paved street, principally bounded on each side by dead walls, between which meeting an old woman, I asked her to be so good as to tell me where "La Fourrière " 1 was. A dog, about thirty yards off, immediately answered my question by a loud melancholy bark; and as the woman pointed to the direction from which it proceeded, and as I now distinctly heard there other barks, I walked towards them, until, entering a large gate, I found in a small yard seven or eight poor unfortunate dogs, tied up by chains and collars to a rail inserted in the wall. I was in the dog-pound of Paris, to which all |