The Hours of the Day and Night are taken up in the Cities of London and Westminster by People as different from each other as those who are born in different Centuries.  Men of Six a Clock give way to those of Nine, they of Nine to the Generation of Twelve, and they of Twelve disappear, and make Room for the fashionable World, who have made Two a Clock the Noon of the Day.

When we first put off from Shore, we soon fell in with a Fleet of Gardeners bound for the several Market-Ports of London; and it was the most pleasing Scene imaginable to see the Chearfulness with which those industrious People ply’d their Way to a certain Sale of their Goods.  The Banks on each Side are as well peopled, and beautified with as agreeable Plantations, as any Spot on the Earth; but the Thames it self, loaded with the Product of each Shore, added very much to the Landskip.  It was very easie to observe by their Sailing, and the Countenances of the ruddy Virgins, who were Super-Cargoes, the Parts of the Town to which they were bound.  There was an Air in the Purveyors for Covent-Garden, who frequently converse with Morning Rakes, very unlike the seemly Sobriety of those bound for Stocks Market.

Nothing remarkable happened in our Voyage; but I landed with Ten Sail of Apricock Boats at Strand-Bridge, after having put in at Nine-Elms, and taken in Melons, consigned by Mr. Cuffe of that Place, to Sarah Sewell and Company, at their Stall in Covent-Garden.  We arrived at Strand-Bridge at Six of the Clock, and were unloading:  when the Hackney Coachmen of the foregoing Night took their leave of each other at the Dark-House, to go to Bed before the Day was too far spent, Chimney-Sweepers pass’d by us as we made up to the Market, and some Raillery happened between one of the Fruit Wenches and those black Men, about the Devil and Eve, with Allusion to their several Professions.  I could not believe any Place more entertaining than Covent-Garden; where I strolled from one Fruit-Shop to another, with Crowds of agreeable young Women around me, who were purchasing Fruit for their respective Families.  It was almost eight of the Clock before I could leave that Variety of Objects.  I took Coach and followed a Young Lady, who tripped into another just before me, attended by her Maid.  I saw immediately she was of the Family of the Vainloves.  There are a set of these who of all Things affect the Play of Blindman’s-Buff, and leading Men into Love for they know not whom, who are fled they know not where.  This sort of Woman is usually a janty Slattern; she hangs on her Cloaths, plays her Head, varies her Posture, and changes Place incessantly, and all with an Appearance of striving at the same time to hide her self, and yet give you to understand she is in Humour to laugh at you.  You must have often seen the Coachmen make Signs with their Fingers