The market-place itself was lively this morning with the number of
carts and stalls ranged on either side of the bright little rivulet
which ran under the old elms that intersected the square, the trees
affording shade and the rivulet drink for man and beast.
A bustling, loquacious crowd of habitans and citizens, wives and
maid-servants, were buying, selling, exchanging compliments, or
complaining of hard times. The marketplace was full, and all were
glad at the termination of the terrible war, and hopeful of the
happy effect of peace in bringing plenty back again to the old
market.
The people bustled up and down, testing their weak purses against
their strong desires to fill their baskets with the ripe autumnal
fruits and the products of field and garden, river and basse cour,
which lay temptingly exposed in the little carts of the marketmen
and women who on every side extolled the quality and cheapness of
their wares.
There were apples from the Cote de Beaupre, small in size but
impregnated with the flavor of honey; pears grown in the old
orchards about Ange Gardien, and grapes worthy of Bacchus, from the
Isle of Orleans, with baskets of the delicious bilberries that cover
the wild hills of the north shore from the first wane of summer
until late in the autumn.
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