Volume 1 — OF THE CAPITAL AND INCOME OF THE STREET-SELLERS OF STATIONERY, LITERATURE, AND THE FINE ARTS.

I now proceed to give a summary of the capital, and income of the above classes. I will first however, endeavour to give a summary of the number of individuals belonging to the class.

This appears to be made up (so far as I am able to ascertain) of the following items:—120 sellers of stationery; 20 sellers of pocket-books and diaries; 50 sellers of almanacks and memorandum-books; 12 sellers of account-books; 31 card-sellers; 6 secret papers-sellers; 250 sellers of songs and ballads; 90 running patterers; 20 standing patterers; 8 sellers of “cocks” (principally elopements); 15 selling conundrums, “comic exhibitions,” &c.; 200 selling play-bills and books for the play; 40 back-number-sellers; 4 waste paper-sellers at Billingsgate; 40 sellers of tracts and pamphlets; 12 newsvenders, &c., at steam-boat piers; 2 book auctioneers; 70 book-stall keepers and book barrow-men; 16 sellers of guide-books; 30 sellers of song-books and children’s books; 40 dealers in pictures in frames; 30 vendors of engravings in umbrellas, and 4 sellers of manuscript music—making altogether a total of 1,110. Many of the above street-trades are, however, only temporary. As, for instance, the street-sale of playing-cards, continues only fourteen days in the year; pocket-books and diaries, four weeks; others, again, are not regularly pursued from day to day, as the sale of prints and engravings in umbrellas, which affords employment for but twelve weeks out of the fifty-two, and conundrums for two months. One trade, however, (namely, that of “Comic Exhibition Papers,” gelatine and engraved cards of the Exhibition) is entirely now in the streets. In the broad-sheet trade, again, the “running patterers” work what are called “cocks,” when there are no incidents happening to incite the public mind. Hence, making due allowances for such variations, we may fairly assume that the street-sellers belonging to this class number at least 1,000. The following statistics will show the whole amount of capital, and the gross income of this branch of street traffic.

Capital or Value of the Stock-in-Trade of the Street-sellers of Stationery, Literature and the Fine Arts.

£s.d.

Street-sellers of Stationery.

40 stalls, 4s. each; 80 boxes, 3s. 6d. each; and stock-money for 120 sellers, 10s. each8200

Street-sellers of Pocket-books and Diaries.

Stock-money for 20 vendors, 10s. each1000

Street-sellers of Almanacks and Memorandum-books.

Stock-money for 50 vendors, 1s. per head2100

Street-sellers of Account-books.

12 baskets, 3s. each; 12 waterproof bags, 2s. 6d. each; stock-money for 12 sellers, 15s. each1260

Street-sellers of Cards.

Stock-money for 20 sellers, 1s. 6d. each250

Street-seller of Stenographic-cards.

Stock-money for 1 seller016

Street-sellers of Long-songs.

20 poles to which songs are attached, 2d. each; stock-money for 20 sellers, 1s. each134

Street-sellers of Wall-songs (“Pinners-up.”)

30 canvass frames, to which songs are hung, 2s. each; stock-money for 30 sellers, 1s. each4100

Street-sellers of Ballads (“Chaunters.”)

2 fiddles, 7s. each; stock-money for 200 chaunters, 1s. each10140

Street-sellers of “Dialogues,” “Litanies,” &c. (“Standing Patterers.”)

20 boards with appendages “for pictures,” 5s. 6d. each; 20 paintings for boards, 3s. 6d. each; stock-money for 20 vendors, 1s. each1000

Street-sellers of Executions, &c. (“Running Patterers.”)

Stock-money for 90 sellers, 1s. each4100

Street-sellers of “Cocks.”

Stock-money for 8 sellers, 1s. each080

Street-sellers of Conundrums and Nuts to Crack.

Stock-money for 15 sellers, 1s. each0150

Street-sellers of Exhibition Papers, Magical Delusions, &c.

Stock-money for 15 sellers, 1s. each0150

Street-sellers of Secret Papers.

Stock-money for 6 vendors, 1s. each060

Street-sellers of Play-bills and Books of the Play.

Stock-money for 200 vendors, 2s. each2000

Street-sellers of Back Numbers.

Stock-money for 40 sellers, 5s. each1000

Street-sellers of Waste-paper at Billingsgate.

Stock-money for 4 sellers, 5s. each100

Street-sellers of Tracts and Pamphlets.

Stock-money for 40 sellers, 6d. each100

Street-sellers of Newspapers (Second Edition).

Stock-money for 20 sellers, 2s. 6d. each2100

Street-sellers of Newspapers, &c., on board Steam-boats.

Stock-money for 12 sellers, 5s. each300

Street-sellers of Books by Auction.

Stock-money for 2 sellers, 2l. each; 2 barrows, 1l. each; 2 boards, for barrows, 3s. each660

Street-sellers of Books on Stalls and Barrows.

20 stalls, 4s. each; 50 barrows, 1l. each; 50 boards, for barrows, 3s. each; stock-money, for 70 sellers, 2l. each201100

Street-sellers of Guide-books.

Stock-money, for 16 sellers, 5s. each400

Street-sellers of Song Books and Children’s Books.

Stock-money, for 30 vendors, 1s. each1100

Street-sellers of Pictures in Frames.

40 stalls, 2s. 6d. each; stock-money, for 40 sellers, 5s. each1500

Street-sellers of Engravings in Umbrellas.

Umbrellas, 2s. 6d. each; stock-money for 30 sellers, 2s. each300

Street-sellers of Manuscript-music.

Stock-money, for 4 sellers, 1s. 6d. each060

Total Capital invested in the Street-sale of Stationery, Literature, and the Fine Arts411510

Income, or average annual “takings,” of the Street-sellers of Stationery, Literature, and the Fine Arts.

Street-sellers of Stationery.

There are 120 vendors of stationery, who sell altogether during the year, 224,640 quires of writing paper at 3d. per quire; 149,760 doz. envelopes, at 1½d. per doz.; 37,440 doz. pens, at 3d. per doz.; 24,960 bottles of ink, at 1d. each; 112,320 black lead pencils, at 1d. each; 24,960 pennyworths of wafers, and 49,920 sticks of sealing-wax, at ½d. per stick; amounting altogether to£4,992

Street-sellers of Pocket-books and Diaries.

During the year 1,440 pocket-books, at 6d. each, and 960 diaries, at 6d. each, are sold in the streets by 20 vendors; amounting to£60

Street-sellers of Almanacks and Memorandum-books.

There are sold during the year, in the streets of London, 280,800 memorandum-books, at 1d. each, and 4,800 almanacks at 1d. each, among 50 vendors, altogether amounting to£1,190

Street-sellers of Account-books.

There are now 12 itinerants vending account-books in various parts of the metropolis, each of whom sells daily, upon an average, 4 account-books, at 1s. 9d. each; the number sold during the year is therefore 14,976, and the sum expended thereon amounts to£1,310

Street-sellers of “Gelatine,” “Engraved,” and “Playing-cards.”

There are 20 street-sellers vending gelatine and engraved cards during the day, and 30 selling playing-cards (for 14 days) at night. These vendors get rid of, among them, in the course of the year, 43,200 gelatine, and 14,400 engraved cards, at 1d. each, and 3,360 packs of playing-cards, at 3d. per pack; so that the money spent in the streets on the sale of engraved, gelatine, and playing-cards, during the year, amounts to£282

Street-seller of Stenographic Cards.

There is only 1 individual “working” stenographic cards in the streets of London, and the number he sells in the course of the year is 7,448 cards, at 1d. each, amounting to£314

Street-sellers of Long Songs.

I am assured, that if 20 persons were selling long songs in the street last summer (during a period of 12 weeks), it was “the outside;” as long songs are now “for fairs and races, and country work.” Calculating that each cleared 9s. in a week, and to clear that took 15s., we find there is expended in long songs in the streets annually£180

Street-sellers of Wall Songs (“Pinners-up.”)

On fine summer days, the wall song-sellers (of whom there are 30) take 2s. on an average. On short wintry days they may not take half so much, and on very foggy or rainy days they take nothing at all. Reckoning that each wall song-man now takes 10s. 6d. weekly (7s. being the profit), we find there is expended yearly in London streets, in the ballads of the pinners-up£810

Street-sellers of Ballads (“Chaunters.”)

There are now 200 chaunters, who also sell the ballads they sing; the average takings of each are 3s. per day; altogether amounting to£4,680

Street-sellers of Executions, &c. (“Running Patterers.”)

Some represent their average weekly earnings at 12s. 6d. the year through; some at 10s. 6d.; and others at less than half of 12s. 6d. Reckoning, however, that only 9s. weekly is an average profit per individual, and that 14s. be taken to realise that profit, we find there is expended yearly, on executions, fires, deaths, &c., in London£3,276

Street-sellers of Dialogues, Litanies, &c. (Standing Patterers.)

If 20 standing patterers clear 10s. weekly, each, the year through, and take 15s. weekly, we find there is yearly expended in the standing patter of London streets£780

Street-sellers of “Cocks” (Elopements, Love Letters, &c.)

There are now 8 men who sell nothing but “Cocks,” each of whom dispose daily of 6 dozen copies at ½d. per copy, or altogether, during the year, 179,712 copies, amounting to£3748s.

Street-sellers of Conundrums—“Nuts to Crack,” &c.

From the best information I could acquire, it appears that fifteen men may be computed as working conundrums for two months throughout the twelve, and clearing 10s. 6d. weekly, per individual. The cost of the “Nuts to Crack” (when new) is 5d. a dozen to the seller; but old “Nuts” often answer the purpose of the street-seller, and may be had for about half the price; the cost of the “Nut-crackers” is 2s. to 2s. 6d. It may be calculated, then, that to realize the 10s. 6d. above-mentioned 15s. must be taken. This shows the street expenditure in “Nuts to Crack” and “Nut-crackers” to be yearly£90

Street-sellers of Exhibition Papers, Magical Delusions, &c.

This trade is carried on only for a short time in the winter, as regards the magical portion; and I am informed that, including the “Comic Exhibitions,” it extends to about half of the sum taken for conundrums; or to about£45

Street-sellers of Secret Papers.

Supposing that 6 men last year each cleared 6s. weekly, we find expended yearly in the streets on this rubbish£93

Street-sellers of Play-bills and Books.

Taking the profits at 3s. a week, at cent. per cent. on the outlay, and reckoning 200 sellers, including those at the saloons, concert-rooms, &c., there is expended yearly on the sale of play-bills purchased in the streets of London£3,120

Street-sellers of Back Numbers.

There are now 40 vendors in the streets of London, each selling upon an average 3 dozen copies daily, at ½d. each, or during the year 336,960 odd numbers. Hence, the sum expended annually in the streets for back numbers of periodicals amounts to upwards of£700

Street-sellers of Waste-paper at Billingsgate.

There are 4 individuals selling waste-paper at Billingsgate, one of whom informed me that from 70 to 100 pounds weight of “waste”—about three-fourths being newspapers—is supplied to Billingsgate market and its visitants. The average price is not less than 2½d. a pound, or from that to 3d. A single paper is 1d. Reckoning that 85 pounds of waste-paper are sold a day, at 2½d. per pound, we find that the annual expenditure in waste-paper at Billingsgate is upwards of£275

Street-sellers of Tracts and Pamphlets.

From the information I obtained from one of this class of street-sellers, I find there are 40 individuals gaining a livelihood in selling tracts and pamphlets in the streets, full one half are men of colour, the other half consists of old and infirm men, and young boys, the average takings of each is about 1s. a day, the year through; the annual street expenditure in the sale of tracts and pamphlets is thus upwards of£620

Street-sellers of Newspapers (Second Edition.)

There are 20 who are engaged in the street sale of newspapers, second edition, each of whom take weekly (for a period of 6 weeks in the year) 1l. 5s.; so that, adopting the calculation of my informant, and giving a profit of 150 per cent., the yearly expenditure in the streets, in second editions, amounts to£150

Street-sellers of Newspapers, &c., at Steam-Boat Piers.

I am informed that the average earnings of these traders, altogether, may be taken at 15s. weekly; calculating that twelve carry on the trade the year through, we find that (assuming each man to sell at thirty-three per cent. profit—though in the case of old works it will be often cent. per cent.), the sum expended annually in steam-boat papers is upwards of£1,500

Street-sellers of Books (by Auction).

There are at present only 2 street-sellers of books by auction in London, whose clear weekly earnings are 10s. 6d. each. Calculating their profits at 250l. per cent., their weekly receipts will amount to 35s. each per week; giving a yearly expenditure of£91

Street-sellers of Books on Stalls and Barrows.

The number of book-stalls and barrows in the streets of the metropolis is 70. The proprietors of these sell weekly upon an average 42 volumes each. The number of volumes annually sold in the streets is thus 1,375,920, and reckoning each volume sold to average 9d., we find that the yearly expenditure in the sale of books in the street amounts to£5,733

Street-sellers of Guide-books.

The street-sellers of guide-books to public places of amusement, are 16 in number, the profit of each is 4s. weekly, at 25 per cent., hence the takings must be 20s.; thus making the annual expenditure in the street-sale of such books amount to£832

Street-sale of Song-books and Children’s books.

There are 30 street-sellers who vend children’s books and song-books, and dispose of, among them, 2 dozen each daily, or during the year 224,640 books, at 1d. each; hence the sum yearly expended in the street-sale of children’s books and song-books is£936

Street-sellers of Pictures in Frames.

If we calculate 40 persons selling pictures in frames, and each taking 10s. weekly; we find the annual amount spent in the streets in the sale of these articles is£1,040

Street-sellers of Prints and Engravings in Umbrellas.

The street-sale of prints and engravings in umbrellas lasts only 12 weeks. There are 30 individuals who gain a livelihood in the sale of these articles during that period. The average takings of each seller is 12s. weekly; so that the annual street-expenditure upon prints and engravings is£216

Street-sellers of Manuscript Music.

There are only 4 sellers of manuscript music in the streets, who take on an average 4s. each weekly; hence we find the annual expenditure in this article amounts in round numbers to£40

Total Sum expended Yearly in the Streets on Stationery, Literature, and the Fine Arts£33,446 12s.

An Epitome of the Pattering Class.

I wish, before passing to the next subject—the street-sellers of manufactured articles (of one of whom the engraving here given furnishes a well-known specimen)—I wish, I say, as I find some mistakes have occurred on the subject, to give the public a general view of the patterers, as well as to offer some few observations concerning the means of improving the habits of street-people in general.

The patterers consist of three distinct classes; viz., those who sell something, and patter to help off their goods; those who exhibit something, and patter to help off the show; and those who do nothing but patter, with a view to elicit alms. Under the head of “Patterers who sell” may be classed

Paper Workers,

Quack Doctors,

Cheap Jacks,

Grease Removers,

Wager Patterers,

Ring Sellers,

Dealers in Corn Salve,

„ Razor Paste,

„ French Polish,

„ Plating Balls,

„ Candle Shades,

„ Rat Poisons, &

„ Blacking,

Book Auctioneers.

The second class of patterers includes jugglers, showmen, clowns, and fortune-tellers; beside several exhibitors who invite public notice to the wonders of the telescope or microscope.

The third and last class of patterers are those who neither sell nor amuse, but only victimise those who get into their clutches. These (to use their own words) “do it on the bounce.” Their general resort is an inferior public-house, sometimes a brothel, or a coffee-shop. One of the tricks of these worthies is to group together at a window, and if a well-dressed person pass by, to salute him with the contents of a flour-bag. One of their pals—better dressed than the rest—immediately walks out, declares it was purely accidental, and invites the gentleman in “to be brushed.” Probably he consents, and still more probably, if he be “good-natured,” he is plied with liquor, drugged with snuff for the occasion, and left in some obscure court, utterly stupified. When he awakes, he finds that his watch, purse, &c., are gone.

“A casual observer, or even a stranger, may be induced to contract a wayside acquaintance with the parties to whom I allude,” says one of the pattering class, from whom I have received much valuable information; “and if he be a visitor of fairs and races, that acquaintance, though slight, may sometimes prove expensive. But casual observers cannot, from the complexity and varied circumstances of the characters now under notice, form anything like a correct view of them. I am convinced that no one can, but those who have visited their haunts and indeed lived among them for months together. They are not to be known, any more than the great city was to be built, in a day. This advantage—if so it may be called—has fallen to my lot.”

The three classes of patterers above enumerated must not be confounded. The two first are essentially distinct from the last—at least they do something for their living; and though the pattering street-tradesmen may generally overstep the bounds of truth in their glowing descriptions of the virtues of the goods they sell, still it should be remembered they are no more dishonest in their dealings than the “enterprising” class of shopkeepers, who resort to the printed mode of puffing off their wares,—indeed the street-sellers are far less reprehensible than their more wealthy brother puffers of the shops, who cannot plead want as an excuse for their dishonesty. The recent revelations made by the Lancet, as to the adulteration of the articles of diet sold by the London grocers, show that the patterers who sell, practise far less imposition than some of our “merchant princes.”

“A tradesman in Tottenham-court Road, whose address the Lancet advertises gratis, thus proclaims the superior qualities of his ‘Finest White Pepper. One package of this article, which is the interior part of the kernel of the finest pepper, being equal in strength to nearly three times the quantity of black pepper (which is the inferior, small, shrivelled berries, and often little more than husks), it will be not only the best but the cheapest for every purpose.’ This super-excellent pepper, ‘sold in packages, price 1d.,’ was found on analysis to consist of finely-ground black pepper, and a very large quantity of wheat-flour.”

Indeed the Lancet has demonstrated that as regards tea, coffee, arrow-root, sugar, and pepper sold by “pattering” shopkeepers, the rule invariably is that those are articles which are the most puffed, and “warranted free from adulteration,” and “to which the attention of families and invalids is particularly directed as being of the finest quality ever imported into this country,” are uniformly the most scandalously adulterated of all.

We should, therefore, remember while venting our indignation against pattering street-sellers, that they are not the only puffers in the world, and that they, at least, can plead poverty in extenuation of their offence; whereas, it must be confessed, that shopkeepers can have no other cause for their acts but their own brutalizing greed of gain.

The class of patterers with whom we have here to deal are those who patter to help off their goods—but while describing them it has been deemed advisable to say a few words, also, on the class who do nothing but patter, as a means of exciting commiseration to their assumed calamities. These parties, it should be distinctly understood, are in no way connected with the puffing street-sellers, but in the exaggerated character of the orations they deliver, they are mostly professional beggars—or bouncers (that is to say cheats of the lowest kind), and will not work or do anything for their living. This, at least, cannot be urged against the pattering street-sellers who, as was before stated, do something for the bread they eat.

Further to show the extent, and system, of the lodging and routes throughout the country of the class of “lurkers,” &c., here described—as all resorting to those places—I got a patterer to write me out a list, from his own knowledge, of divers routes, and the extent of accommodation in the lodging-houses. I give it according to the patterer’s own classification.

“Brighton is a town where there is a great many furnished cribs, let to needys (nightly lodgers) that are molled up,” [that is to say, associated with women in the sleeping-rooms.]

SURREY AND SUSSEX.

Dossing Cribs, or Lodging-housesBeds.Needys, or Nightly Lodgers.

Wandsworth69108

Croydon98144

Reigate56 60

Cuckfield28 32

Horsham37 52

Lewis76 84

Kingston128192

Brighton169228

“Bristol.—A few years back an old woman kept a padding-ken here. She was a strong Methodist, but had a queer method. There was thirty standing beds, besides make-shifts and furnished rooms, which were called ‘cottages.’ It’s not so bad now. The place was well-known to the monkry, and you was reckoned flat if you hadn’t been there. The old woman, when any female, old or young, who had no tin, came into the kitchen, made up a match for her with some men. Fellows half-drunk had the old women. There was always a broomstick at hand, and they was both made to jump over it, and that was called a broomstick wedding. Without that ceremony a couple weren’t looked on as man and wife. In course the man paid, in such case, for the dos (bed.)

Kensington6784

Brentford128192

Hounslow6560

Colebrook2720

Windsor710140

Maidenhead4540

Reading129216

Oxford147196

Banbury1012240

Marlboro’87112

Bath108160

Bristol2011440

“Counties of Kent and Essex.—Here is the best places in England for ‘skipper-birds;’ (parties that never go to lodging-houses, but to barns or outhouses, sometimes without a blanket.) The Kent farmers permit it to their own travellers, or the travellers they know. In Essex it’s different. There a farmer will give 1s. rather than let a traveller sleep on his premises, for fear of robbery. ‘Keyhole whistlers,’ the skipper-birds are sometimes called, but they’re regular travellers. Kent’s the first county in England for them. They start early to good houses for victuals, when gentlefolk are not up. I’ve seen them doze and sleep against the door. They like to be there before any one cuts their cart (exposes their tricks). Travellers are all early risers. It’s good morning in the country when it’s good night in town.

KENT.

Dossing Cribs, or Lodging-housesBeds.Needys, or Nightly Lodgers.

Deptford18 9324

Greenwich 6 8 26

Woolwich 9 8144

Gravesend 6 7 84

Chatham2010400

Maidstone 5 7 70

Sittingbourne 3 6 36

Sheerness 4 5 40

Faversham 3 5 30

Canterbury11 8176

Dover12 9216

Ramsgate 4 5 40

Margate 6 6 72

ESSEX.

Stratford10 9180

Ilford 3 7 52

Barking 4 6 48

Billericay 5 7 70

Orsett 2 8 32

Rayleigh 3 9 54

Rochford 3 8 48

Leigh 4 8 64

Prettywell 2 7 28

Southend 3 8 48

Maldon 5 9 90

Witham 4 8 64

Colchester1510300

“Windsor.—At Ascot race-time I’ve paid many 1s. just to sit up all night.

“Colchester.—Life in London at the Bugle; called ‘Hell upon earth’ sometimes.

Barnet 5 1 80

Watford 6 8 90

Hemel-Hempstead 3 5 30

Uxbridge 6 7 84

Tring 2 6 24

Dunstable 6 5 60

Stony-Stratford 3 6 36

Northampton13 9 234

Towcester 4 7 56

Daventry 5 9 90

Coventry16 9 288

Birmingham50111100

HERTS AND BEDFORDSHIRE.

Edmonton14 7196

Waltham-Abbey 3 6 36

Cheshunt-Street 2 7 28

Hoddesden 3 8 48

Hertford 9 9162

Ware 710140

Puckeridge 2 5 20

Buntingford 3 8 48

Royston 410 40

Hitchin 7 9126

Luton 6 8 96

Bedford 9 7126

St. Alban’s 8 6 96

SUFFOLK AND NORFOLK.

Ipswich24 8384

Hadleigh 8 7112

Halsted 5 6 60

Stowmarket 4 7 56

Woodbridge 6 5 60

Sudbury 4 7 56

Bury St. Edmund’s 8 8128

Thetford 3 6 36

Attleboro’ 2 5 20

Wymondham 111 22

Norwich40 9720

Yarmouth16 8256

Of the “Screevers,” or Writers of Begging-Letters and Petitions.

“Screeving”—that is to say, writing false or exaggerated accounts of afflictions and privations, is a necessary corollary to “Pattering,” or making pompous orations in public—and I here subjoin a brief description of the “business”—for although the “screevers,” “economically” considered, belong properly to the class who will not work, yet as they are intimately connected with the street-trade of begging I have thought it best to say a few words on the subject here, reserving a more comprehensive and scientific view of the subject till such time as I come to treat of the professional beggar, under the head of those who are able but unwilling to labour for their livelihood, in contradistinction to the involuntary beggars, who belong more properly to those who are willing but unable to work. The subjoined information has been obtained from one who has had many opportunities of making himself acquainted with the habits and tricks of the class here treated of,—indeed, at one part of his life he himself belonged to the “profession.”

“In England and Wales the number of vagrants committed to prison annually amounts to 19,621; and as many are not imprisoned more than a dozen times during their lives, and a few never at all, the number of tramps and beggars may be estimated, at the very lowest, at 22,000 throughout England and Wales. The returns from Scotland are indeterminate. Of this wretched class many are aged and infirm; others are destitute orphans; while not a few are persons whose distress is real, and who suffer from temporary causes.

“With this excusable class, however, I have not now to do. Of professional beggars there are two kinds—those who ‘do it on the blob’ (by word of mouth), and those who do it by ‘screeving,’ that is, by petitions and letters, setting forth imaginary cases of distress.

“Of these documents there are two sorts, ‘slums’ (letters) and ‘fakements’ (petitions). These are seldom written by the persons who present or send them, but are the production of a class of whom the public little imagine either the number or turpitude. I mean the ‘professional begging-letter writers.’

“Persons who write begging-letters for others sometimes, though seldom, beg themselves. They are in many cases well supported by the fraternity for whom they write. A professional of this kind is called by the ‘cadgers,’ ‘their man of business.’ Their histories vary as much as their abilities; generally speaking they have been clerks, teachers, shopmen, reduced gentlemen, or the illegitimate sons of members of the aristocracy; while others, after having received a liberal education, have broken away from parental control, and commenced the ‘profession’ in early life, and will probably pursue it to their graves.

“I shall take a cursory view of the various pretences set forth in these begging documents,” says my informant, “and describe some of the scenes connected with their preparation. The documents themselves are mournful catalogues of all the ills that flesh is heir to.

“I address myself first to that class of petitions which represent losses by sea, or perhaps shipwreck itself. These documents are very seldom carried by one person, unless indeed he is really an old sailor; and, to the credit of the navy be it spoken, this is very seldom the case. When the imposition under notice has to be carried out, it is, for the most part, conducted by half-a-dozen worthless men, dressed in the garb of seamen (and known as turnpike sailors), one of their number having really been at sea and therefore able to reply to any nautical inquiries which suspicion may throw out. This person mostly carries the document; and is, of course, the spokesman of the company. Generally speaking, the gang have a subscription-book, sometimes only a fly-leaf or two to the document, to receive the names of contributors.

“It may not be out of place here, to give a specimen—drawn from memory—of one of those specious but deceitful ‘fakements’ upon which the ‘swells,’ (especially those who have ‘been in the service,’) ‘come down with a couter’ (sovereign) if they ‘granny the mauley’ (perceive the signature) of a brother officer or friend. The document is generally as follows—

“‘These are to Certify, to all whom it may concern, that the Thunderer, Captain Johnson, was returning on her homeward-bound passage from China, laden with tea, fruit, &c., and having beside, twenty passengers, chiefly ladies, and a crew of thirty hands, exclusive of the captain and other officers. That the said vessel encountered a tremendous gale off the banks of Newfoundland, and was dismasted, and finally wrecked at midnight on’ (such a day, including the hour, latitude, and other particulars). ‘That the above-named vessel speedily foundered, and only the second mate and four of the crew (the bearers of this certificate) escaped a watery grave. These, after floating several days on broken pieces of the ship, were providentially discovered, and humanely picked up by the brig Invincible, Captain Smith, and landed in this town and harbour of Portsmouth, in the county of Hants. That we, the Master of Customs, and two of her Majesty’s Justices of the Peace for the said harbour and county, do hereby grant and afford to the said’ (here follows the names of the unfortunate mariners) ‘this our vouchment of the truth of the said wreck, and their connection therewith, and do empower them to present and use this certificate for twenty-eight days from the date hereof, to enable them to get such temporal aid as may be adequate to reaching their respective homes, or any sea-port where they may be re-engaged. And this certificate further showeth, that they are not to be interrupted in the said journey by any constabulary or other official authority; provided, that is to say, that no breach of the peace or other cognizable offence be committed by the said Petitioners,

‘As witness our hands,

John Harris, M.C.£100

James Flood, J.P.100

Capt. W. Hope, R.N., J.P.1100

‘Given at Portsmouth, this 10th day of October, 1850.

‘God save the Queen.

Rev. W. Wilkins£100

An Officer’s Widow0100

An Old Sailor050

A Friend026’

“I have already hinted at the character and description of the persons by whom these forgeries are framed. It would seem, from the example given, that such documents are available in every sea-port or other considerable town; but this is not the case. It is true that certain kinds of documents, especially sham hawkers’ licenses, may be had in the provinces, at prices suited to the importance of their contents, or to the probable gains of their circulation; but all the ‘regular bang-up fakes’ are manufactured in the ‘Start’ (metropolis), and sent into the country to order, carefully packed up, and free from observation. The following note, sent to ‘Carotty Poll, at Mrs. Finder’s Login-ouse facin the orse and trumpet bere shop han street Westminster London with spede,’ may tend to illuminate the uninitiated as to how such ‘fakements’ are obtained:

‘Dere pol—I ope this will find yu an george in good helth and spirits—things is very bad ere, yure sister Lizer has been konfined an got a fine strappin boye, they was very bad off wen it happend. they say in mi country it never ranes but it pores and so it was pol, for mi William as got a month along with Cockny Harry for a glim lurk and they kum out nex Mundie and i av porned my new shift and every indivigual thing to get them a brekfust and a drop a rum the mornin they kums out. They wont hav no paper to work and I dont know what they will do. Tayler Tom lent me a shillin wish I send inklosed and yu must porn sumthing for anuther shilling and get Joe the Loryer to rite a fake for William not a glim’ (loss by fire) ‘but a brake say as e ad a hors fell downe with the mad staggurs an broke all is plates and dishes an we are starvin you can sa that the children is got the mesuls—they av ben ill thats no lie—an we want to rase a little munney to git anuther hanimul to dror the kart put a fu monekurs’ (names) ‘tu it and make it durty and date it sum time bak do not neglect and dont fale to pay the post no more at preasant from yure luvin sister Jane N—— at Mister John H—— the Sweep—nex dore to the five Bels grinsted Colchester Essex. good by.’

“The person from whom the above letter was obtained, was in the lodging-house when it arrived, and had it given him to read and retain for reference. Lawyer Joe was soon sent for; and the following is an outline of the scene that occurred, given in my informant’s own words:

“I had called at the house whither the above letter had been addressed, to inquire for a man whom I had known in his and my own better days. The kitchen-door, or rather cellar-door, was thrust open, and in came Carrotty Poll herself.

“‘Well, Poll,’ asked the deputy, ‘how does the world use you?’

“‘B— bad,’ was the reply, ‘where’s Lawyer Joe?’

“‘Oh, he’s just gone to Mother Linstead’s for some tea and sugar; here he comes.’

“‘Joe, I’ve a job for you. How much do you charge for screeving a “brake?”’

“‘Oh, half a bull (half-a-crown).’

“‘No, I’ll give you a deuce o’ deeners (two shillings), co’s don’t ye see the poor b— is in “stir” (prison).’

“‘Well, well, I shan’t stand for a tanner. Have you got paper?’

“‘Yes, and a Queen’s head, and all.’

“The pen and ink were found, a corner of the table cleared, and operations commenced.

“‘He writes a good hand,’ exclaimed one, as the screever wrote the petition.

“‘I wish I could do it,’ said another.

“‘If you could, you’d soon be transported,’ said a third; while the whole kitchen in one chorus, immediately on its completion, proclaimed, that it was d—d well done, adding to that, not one ‘swell’ in a score would view it in any other light than a ‘ream’ (genuine) concern.

“Lawyer Joe was up to his trade—he folded the paper in official style—creased it as if it was long written and often examined, attached the signatures of the minister and churchwardens, and dipping his fingers under the fireplace, smeared it with ashes, and made the whole the best representation of a true account of ‘a horse in the mad staggers’ and ‘a child in the measles’ that could be desired by the oldest and best cadger on the monkry.

“These professional writers are in possession of many autographs of charitable persons, and as they keep a dozen or more bottles of different shades of ink, and seldom write two documents on exactly the same sort of paper, it is difficult to detect the imposition. A famous lurker who has been previously alluded to in this work, was once taken before a magistrate at York whose own signature was attached to his fakement. The imitation was excellent, and the ‘lurker’ swore hard and fast to the worthy justice that he (the justice) did write it in his own saddle-room, as he was preparing to ride, and gave him five shillings, too. The effrontery and firmness of the prisoner’s statement gained him his discharge!

“It is not uncommon in extensive districts—say, for instance, a section of a county taking in ten or a dozen townships—for a school of lurkers to keep a secretary and remit his work and his pay at the same time. In London this functionary is generally paid by commission, and sometimes partly in food, beer, and tobacco. The following is a fair estimate of the scale of charges:

s.d.

Friendly letter06

Long ditto09

Petition10

Ditto, with ream monekurs (genuine signatures)16

Ditto, with gammy monekurs (forged names)26

Very “heavy” (dangerous)30

Manuscript for a broken down author100

Part of a play for ditto76

“To this I may add the prices of other articles in the begging line.

Loan of one child, without grub09

Two ditto10

Ditto, with grub and Godfrey’s Cordial09

If out after twelve at night, for each child, extra02

For a school of children, say half-a-dozen26

Loan of any garment, per day02

Going as a pal to vindicate any statement10

“Such is an outline, open to circumstantial variation, of the pay received for the sort of accommodation required.

“There is a very important species of ‘lurking’ or ‘screeving,’ which has not yet been alluded to.

“It is well-known that in the colliery districts an explosion of fire-damp frequently takes place, when many lives are lost, and the men who escape are often so wounded as to render amputation of a leg or arm the only probable means of saving them from the grave. Of course the accident, with every particular as to date and locality, goes the round of the newspapers. Such an event is a sort of God-send to the begging-letter writer. If he is anything of a draughtsman, so much the better. He then procures a sheet of vellum, and heads it with a picture of an explosion, and exhibiting men, boys, and horses up in the air, and a few nearer the ground, minus a head, a leg, or an arm; with a background of women tearing their hair, and a few little girls crying. Such a ‘fakement,’ professionally filled up and put into the hands of an experienced lurker, will bring the ‘amanuensis,’ or ‘screever,’ two guineas at least, and the proceeds of such an expedition have in many cases averaged 60l. per week. The lurker presenting this would have to take with him three or four countrymen, dressed in the garb of colliers, one at least knowing something of underground work. These he would engage at ‘a bob a nob’ (one shilling each), and if he made a good day, give them a ‘toothful o’ rum’ beside. As such men are always left outside the jigger (door) of the houses, they are of course ignorant of the state of the subscription-list.

“A famous lurker, to whom we have previously referred, Nicholas A——, kept ‘a man of business’ to himself, and gave him from 5s. to 10s. 6d. per day. Nicholas, who was tolerably educated, could write very well, but as his ‘secretary’ could imitate twelve different hands, he was of course no trifling acquisition.

“It would not be easy to trace the history of all, or even many of the men, who pursue the begging-letter trade as professional writers. Many of the vagrant tribe write their own letters, but the vast majority are obliged to have assistance. Of course, they are sometimes detected by the fact that their conversation does not tally with the rhetorical statement of the petition. The few really deserving persons, well-born and highly educated, who subsist by begging, are very retired and cautious in their appeals. They write concisely, and their statements are generally true to a certain extent, or perhaps rigidly so in relation to an earlier part of their history. These seldom live in the very common lodging-houses.

“The most renowned of the tribe who write for others, and whose general trade lies in forged certificates of bankruptcy, seizure of goods for rent, and medical testimonies to infirmity, is an Irishman, brought up in London, and who may be seen almost every night at the bar of a certain public-house in Drury-lane. He lives, or did live, at one of the model lodging-houses. Very few persons know his occupation. They suppose that he is ‘connected with the press.’ Several years ago this person, says one who knew this trade well, was ‘regularly hard up,’ and made a tender of his services to a distinguished M.P., who took a lively interest in the emancipation of the Jews. He offered to visit the provinces, hold meetings, and get up petitions. The hon. member tested his abilities, and gave him clothes and a ten-pound note to commence operations. ‘I saw him’ (says my informant) ‘the same night, and he mooted the subject to me over a glass of whiskey-punch. ‘Not that I care (said he) if all the b—y Jews were in h—ll, but I must do something.’

“‘But how,’ asked my informant, ‘will you get up the meetings?—and then the signatures, you know!’

“‘Meetings!’ was the reply, ‘don’t mention it; I can get millions of signatures!’

“The pretended Jewish Advocate never left London. He got (from Ireland) a box of old documents relative to bygone petitions for repeal, &c., and on these he put a frontispiece suited to his purpose—got them sent to Bath and Bristol, and thence transmitted to his employer—who praised his perseverance, and sent more money to the post-office of one of the above-named towns; this was countermanded to London, and jovially spent at Tom Spring’s’ in Holborn.

“Hitherto the movements of the begging-letter writer—self-considered—have been chiefly dwelt upon. There is another class of the fraternity, however, of whom some notice must here be taken; viz., those, who to meet cases of great pretension, and consequent misgivings on the part of the noblemen or gentry to whom fakements are presented, become referees to professional beggars. These referees are kept by local ‘schools’ of beggars in well-furnished apartments at respectable houses, and well dressed; their allowance varies from 1l. to 3l. per week.

“But the most expert and least suspected dodge is referring to some dignified person in the country; a person however who exists nowhere but in imagination. Suppose (says my informant) I am a beggar, I apply to you for relief. Perhaps I state that I am in prospect of lucrative employment, if I could get enough money to clothe myself. You plead the number of impositions; I consent to that fact, but offer you references as to the truth of my statement. I refer you to the Hon. and Rev. Mr. Erskine, at Cheltenham (any name or place will do). You promise to write, and tell me to call in a few days; meanwhile, I assume the name of the gentleman to whom I have referred you, and write forthwith to the post-master of the town in question, requesting that any letter coming there directed to the Hon. and Rev. Mr. Erskine, may be forwarded to my present address. I thus discover what you have written, frame a flattering reply, and address it to you. I send it (under cover) to a pal of mine at Cheltenham, or elsewhere, who posts it; I call half an hour after you receive it, and, being satisfied, you give me a donation, and perhaps introduce me to some of your friends. Thus I raise a handsome sum, and the fraud is probably never found out.

“One of the London lurkers, who has good means of forming a calculation on the subject, assures me that the average earnings of ‘lurkers’ in London alone (including those who write for them), cannot be less than 6,000l. per annum.

“Two of the class were lately apprehended, at the instance of the Duke of Wellington; on their persons was found fifteen sovereigns, one five-pound note, a silver watch with gold guard, and two gold watches with a ribbon attached to each; their subscription-book showed that they had collected 620l. during the current year.

“A man named M’Kensie—who was transported at the last Bristol Assizes—had just received a cheque for 100l. from a nobleman lately deceased.

“Most of the ‘professionals’ of this class include a copy of the ‘Court Guide’ among their stock in trade. In this all the persons known to be charitable, have the mark set against their names. I have been furnished with a list of such persons, accompanied with comments, from the note-book of ‘an old stager’ ‘thirty years on the monkery,’ and, as he adds, ‘never quodded but twice.’

“The late Queen Dowager.

Hon. Wm. Ashley.

The Bishop of Norwich.

Serjeant Talfourd.

Charles Dickins.

Samuel Rogers, the Poet.

Samuel Warren (Author of ‘Extracts from the Diary of a Physician’).

Hon. G. C. Norton, the ‘beak’ (magistrate), but good for all that.

Rev. E. Holland, Hyde-park-gardens.

The late Sir Robert Peel.

Countess of Essex (only good to sickness, or distressed authorship).

Marquess of Bredalbane (good on anything religious).

The Editor of the ‘Sun.’

Madame Celeste.

Marquess of Blandford.

Duke of Portland.

Duke of Devonshire.

Lord George Bentinck (deceased; God A’mighty wouldn’t let him live; he was too good for this world.)

Lord Skelmersdale.

Lord John Manners.

Lord Lyttleton.

Mrs. Elder, Exeter.

Lady Emily Ponsonby (a devilish pretty wench).

Miss Burdett Coutts.

F. Stewart, Esq., Bath.

Mrs. Groves, Salisbury.

Mrs. Mitchell, Dorchester.

Mrs. Taggart, Bayswater (her husband is a Unitarian minister, not so good as she, but he’ll stand a ‘bob’ if you look straight at him and keep to one story.)

Archdeacon Sinclair, at Kensington (but not so good as Archdeacon Pott, as was there afore him; he was a good man; he couldn’t refuse a dog, much more a Christian; but he had a butler, a regular ‘knark,’ who was a b— and a half, good weight.)

Lady Cottenham used to be good, but she is ‘coopered’ (spoilt) now, without you has a ‘slum,’ any one as she knows, and then she won’t stand above a ‘bull’ (five shillings).”

Of the Probable Means of Reformation.

I shall now conclude this account of the patterers, lurkers, and screevers, with some observations from the pen of one who has had ample means of judging as to the effect of the several plans now in operation for the reformation or improvement of the class.

“In looking over the number of institutions,” writes the person alluded to, “designed to reform and improve the classes under review, we are, as it were, overwhelmed with their numerous branches; and though it is highly gratifying to see so much good being done, it is necessary to confine this notice to the examination of only the most prominent, with their general characteristics.

“The churches, on many considerations—personal feelings being the smallest, but not unknown—demand attention first. I must treat this subject (for your work is not a theological magazine) without respect to doctrine, principle, or legislation.

“The object of erecting churches in poor neighbourhoods is to benefit the poor; why is it, then, that the instruction communicated should exercise so little influence upon the vicious, the destitute, and the outcast? Is it that Christian ordinances are less adapted to them than to others? Or, rather, is it not that the public institutions of the clergy are not made interesting to the wretched community in question? The great hindrance (in my opinion) to the progress of religion among the unsettled classes is, that having been occasionally to church or chapel, and heard nothing but doctrinal lectures or feverish mental effusions, they cannot see the application of these to every-day trade and practice; and so they arrive at the conclusion, that they can get as much or more good at home.

“Our preachers seem to be afraid of ascertaining the sentiments, feelings, and habits of the more wretched part of the population; and, without this, their words will die away upon the wind, and no practical echo answer their addresses.

“It will, perhaps, relieve the monotony of this statement if I give an illustration communicated to me by a person well acquainted to determine the merits of the question.

“Your readers will probably recollect the opposition experienced by Dr. Hampden on his promotion to the bishopric of Hereford. Shortly after the affair was settled, his lordship accepted an invitation to preach on behalf of the schools connected with the ‘ten new churches’ of Bethnal-green. The church selected for the purpose was the one on Friar’s-mount. It was one July Sunday in 1849, and, as I well remember, the morning was very wet; but, supposing the curiosity, or better motives, of the public would induce a large congregation, I went to the church at half-past ten. The free-seats occupying the middle aisle were all filled, and chiefly with persons of the lowest and worst classes, many of whom I personally knew, and was agreeably surprised to find them in such a place.

“I sat in the midst of the group, and at the elbow of a tall attenuated beggar, known by the name of ‘Lath and Plaster,’ of whom it is but justice to say that he repeated the responsive parts of the service very correctly. It is true he could not read; but having ‘larned a few prayers’ in the ‘Downs’ (Tothill-fields prison), ‘he always sed ’em, night and morning, if he wasn’t drunk, and then he sed ’em twice next day, ’cos,’ reasoned he, ‘I likes to rub off as I goes on.’

“In course of time, the bishop made his appearance in the pulpit. His subject was neglected education, and he illustrated it from the history of Eli.

“I thought proper to hang back, and observe the group as they passed out of church. There was Tailor Tom, and Brummagem Dick, and Keate-street Nancy, and Davy the Duke, and Stationer George, and at least two dozen more, most of whom were miserably clad, and several apparently without a shirt. They were not, however, without halfpence; and as I was well known to several of the party, and flattered as being ‘a very knowledgeable man,’ I was invited to the Cat and Bagpipes afterwards, to ‘have share of what was going.’

“I was anxious,” continues my informant, “to learn from my companions their opinion of the right reverend prelate. They thought, to use their own words, ‘he was a jolly old brick.’ But did they think he was sound in opinion about the Trinity, or was he (as alleged) a Unitarian? They did not even understand the meaning of these words. All they did understand was, that ‘a top-sawyer parson at Oxford, called Dr. Pussy,’ had ‘made himself disagreeable,’ and that some of the bishops and nobility had ‘jined him;’ that these had persecuted Dr. Hampden, because he was ‘more cleverer’ than themselves; and that Lord John Russell, who, generally speaking, was ‘a regular muff,’ had ‘acted like a man’ in this instance, and ‘he ought to be commended for it; and,’ added the man who pronounced the above sentiment, ‘it’s just a picture of ourselves.’ To other ears than mine, the closing remark would have appeared impertinent, but I ‘tumbled to’ it immediately. It was a case of oppression; and whether the oppressors belonged to Oxford University or to Scotland-yard militated nothing against the aphorism: ‘it’s just a picture of ourselves!’

“It seems to me that these poor creatures understood the circumstances better than they did the sermon; and my inference is, that whether from the parochial pulpit, or the missionary exhortation, or in the printed form of a tract, those who wish to produce a practical effect must themselves be practical men. I, who have been in the Christian ministry, and am familiar, unhappily, with the sufferings of men of every grade among the outcast, would say: ‘If you wish to do these poor outcasts real good, you must mould your language to their ideas, get hold of their common phrases—those which tell so powerfully when they are speaking to each other—let them have their own fashion of things, and, where it does not interfere with order and decency, use yourselves language which their unpolished minds will appreciate; and then, having gained their entire confidence, and, perhaps, their esteem, you may safely strike home, though it be as with a sledge-hammer, and they will even ‘love you for the smart.’

“The temperance movement next claims attention, and I doubt not that much crime and degradation has been prevented by total abstinence from all intoxicating drinks; but I would rather raise the tone of moral feeling by intelligent and ennobling means than by those spasmodic efforts, which are without deliberation, and often without permanency. The object sought to be obtained, however, is good,—so is the motive,—and I leave to others to judge what means are most likely to secure it.

“I may also allude, as another means of reformation, to the Ragged-schools which are now studding the localities of the poorest neighbourhoods. The object of these schools is, one would hope, to take care of the uncared for, and to give instruction to those who would be otherwise running wild and growing up as a pest to society. A few instances of real reform stand, however, in juxtaposition with many of increased hardihood. I, as a man, seeing those who resort to ragged-schools, cannot understand the propriety of insulting an honest though ragged boy by classing him with a young thief; or the hope of improving the juvenile female character where the sexes are brought in promiscuous contact, and left unrestrained on their way home to say and do everything subversive of the good instruction they have received.” [It is right I should here state, that these are my informant’s own unbiassed sentiments, delivered without communication with myself on the subject. I say thus much, because, my own opinions being known, it might perhaps appear as if I had exerted some influence over the judgment of my correspondent.]

“The most efficient means of moral reform among the street-folk, appear to have been consulted by those who, in Westminster and other places, have opened institutions cheaper, but equally efficient, as the mechanics’ institutes of the metropolis. In these, for one farthing per night, three-halfpence a week, or sixpence a month, lectures, exhibitions, newspapers, &c., are available to the very poor. These, and such as these, I humbly but earnestly would commend to public sympathy and support, believing that, under the auspices of heaven, they may ‘deliver the outcast and poor’ from their own mistaken views and practices, and make them ornamental to that society to which they have long been expensive and dangerous.”

Another laudable attempt to improve the condition of the poorer class is by the erection of model lodging-houses. The plan which induced this measure was good, and the success has been tolerable; but I am inclined to think the management of these houses, as well as their internal regulation, is scarcely what their well-meaning founders designed. The principal of these buildings is in George-street, St. Giles’s; the building is spacious and well ventilated, there is a good library, and the class of lodgers very superior to what might be expected. This latter circumstance makes the house in question scarcely admissible to the catalogue of reformed lodging-houses for the very poor.

“The next ‘model lodging-house’ in importance is the one in Charles-street, Drury-lane. This, from personal observation (having lodged in it more than four months),” says my informant, “I can safely say (so far as social reform is concerned), is a miserable failure. The bed-rooms are clean, but the sitting-room, though large, is the scene of dirt and disorder. Noise, confusion, and intemperance abound from morning till night.

“There is a model lodging-house in Westminster, the private property of Lord Kinnaird. It is generally well conducted. His lordship’s agent visits the place once a week. There is an almost profuse supply of cooking utensils and other similar comforts. There are, moreover, two spacious reading-rooms, abundance of books and periodicals, and every lodger, on payment of 6d., is provided with two lockers—one in his bed-room, and the other below-stairs. The money is returned when the person leaves the house. There is divine service every day, conducted by different missionaries, and twice on Sundays. Attendance on these services is optional; and as there are two ways of ingress and egress, the devout and undevout need not come in contact with each other. The kitchen is very large and detached from the house. The master of this establishment is a man well fitted for his situation. He is a native of Saffron Walden in Essex, where his father farmed his own estate. He received a superior education, and has twice had a fortune at his own disposal. He did dispose of it, however; and ‘after many roving years,’ as a ‘traveller,’ ‘lurker,’ and ‘patterer,’ he has settled down in his present situation, and maintained it with great credit for a considerable period. The beds in this house are only 3d. per night, and no small praise is due to Lord Kinnaird for the superiority of this ‘model’ over others of the same denomination.

“Such are a few of the principal of these establishments. Giving every credit to their founders, however, for purity and even excellence of motive, I doubt if ‘model lodging-houses,’ as at present conducted, are likely to accomplish much real good for those who get their living in the streets. Ever and anon they are visited by dukes and bishops, lords and ladies, who march in procession past every table, scrutinise every countenance, make their remarks upon the quantity and quality of food, and then go into the lobby, sign their names, jump into their carriages, and drive away, declaring that ‘after all’ there is not so much poverty in London as they supposed.

“The poor inmates of these houses, moreover,” adds my informant, “are kept in bondage, and made to feel that bondage, to the almost annihilation of old English independence. It is thought by the managers of these establishments, and with some share of propriety, that persons who get their living by any honest means may get home and go to bed, according to strict rule, at a certain prescribed hour—in one house it is ten o’clock, in the others eleven. But many of the best-conducted of these poor people, if they be street-folk, are at those very hours in the height of their business, and have therefore to pack up their goods, and carry homeward their cumbersome and perhaps heavy load a distance usually varying from two or three to six or seven miles. If they are a minute beyond time, they are shut out, and have to seek lodgings in a strange place. On their return next morning, they are charged for the bed they were prevented from occupying, and if they demur they are at once expelled! Thus the ‘model’ lodgers are kept, as it were, in leading-strings, and triumphed over by lords and ladies, masters and matrons, who, while they pique themselves on the efforts they are making to ‘better the condition of the poor,’ are making them their slaves, and driving them into unreasonable thraldom; while the rich and noble managers, reckless of their own professed benevolence, are making the poor poorer, by adding insult to wretchedness. If my remarks upon these establishments appear,” adds the writer of the above remarks, “to be invidious, it is only in ‘appearance’ that they are so. I give their promoters credit for the best intentions, and, as far as sanitary and moral measures are concerned, I rejoice in the benefit while suggesting the improvement.

“Everything even moderately valuable has its counterfeit. We have counterfeit money, counterfeit virtue, counterfeit modesty, counterfeit religion, and last, but not least, ‘counterfeit model lodging-houses.’ Many private adventurers have thus dignified their domiciles, and some of them highly merit the distinction, while with others it is only a cloak for greater uncleanliness and grosser immorality.

“There has come to my knowledge the case of one man, who owns nearly a dozen of these dens of infamy, in one of which a poor girl under fifteen was lately ruined by a gray-headed monster, who, according to the pseudo-‘model’ regulations, slept in an adjoining bed. The sham model-houses to which I more particularly allude,” says my correspondent, “are in Short’s-gardens, Drury-lane; Mill-yard, Cable-street; Keate-street, Flower and Dean-street, Thrawl-street, Spitalfields; Plough-court, Whitechapel; and Union-court, Holborn. All of these are, without exception, twopenny brothels, head-quarters of low-lived procuresses, and resorts of young thieves and prostitutes. Each of the houses is managed by a ‘deputy,’ who receives an income of 8s. 2d. per week, out of which he has to provide coke, candles, soap, &c. Of course it is impossible to do this from such small resources, and the men consequently increase their salaries by ‘taking in couples for a little while,’ purchasing stolen goods, and other nefarious practices. Worse than all, the person owning these houses is a member of a strict Baptist church, and the son of a deceased minister. He lives in great splendour in one of the fashionable streets in Pimlico.

“It still remains for me,” my correspondent continues, “to contemplate the best agency for promoting the reformation of the poor. The ‘City Mission,’ if properly conducted, as it brings many good men in close contact with the ‘outcast and poor,’ might be made productive of real and extensive good. Whether it has done so, or done so to any extent, is perhaps an open question. Our town missionary societies sprang up when our different Christian denominations were not fully alive to the apprehension of their own duties to their poorer brethren, who were lost to principle, conscience, and society. That the object of the London City Mission is most noble, needs no discussion, and admits of no dispute. The method of carrying out this great object is by employing agents, who are required to give their whole time to the work, without engaging in any secular concerns of life; and regarding the operation of the work so done, I must say that great good has resulted from the enterprise. At the commencement of the labours of the Mission in any particular locality great opposition was manifested, and a great amount of prejudice, with habits of the most immoral kind—openly carried on without any public censure—had to be overcome. The statements of the missionaries have from time to time been published, and lie recorded against us as a nation, of the glaring evils and ignorance of a vast portion of our people. It is principally owing to the city missionaries that the other portions of society have known what they now do of the practices and habits of the poor; it is principally due to their exertions that schools have been established in connection with their labours; and the Ragged-schools—one of the principal movements of the last few years—are mainly to be attributed to their efforts.

“A man,” says my informant in conclusion, “can receive little benefit from a thing he does not understand; the talk which will do for the senate will not do for the cottage, and the argument which will do for the study will not do for the man who spends all his spare time in a public-house. These remarks will apply to the distribution of tracts, which should be couched in the very language that is used by the people to whom they are addressed; then the ideas will penetrate their understanding. Some years back I met with an old sailor in a lodging-house in Westminster, who professed a belief that there had once been a God, but that he was either dead, or grown old and diseased. He did not dispute the inspiration of the Bible. He believed that there had been revelations made to our forefathers when God was alive and active, but that now the Almighty did not ‘fash’ (trouble) himself about his creatures at all!

“I endeavoured to instruct the man in his own rude language and ideas; and after he had thus been made to comprehend the doctrine of the Atonement, he said, ‘I see it all plain enough—though I’ve liked a drop o’ drink, and been a devil among the gals, and all that, in my time, if I’ll humble myself I can have it all wiped off; and, as the song says, “We may be happy yet,” because, as the saying is, it’s all square with God A’mighty.’ Whether the sailor permanently reformed, I am unable to say, for I lost sight of him shortly after; at any rate he understood the subject, and was thus qualified to profit by it. And what can the teachers of Christianity among the British heathen—herded together in courts and alleys—tell their poor ignorant hearers better than the old sailor’s aphorism, ‘You have, indeed, gone astray from your greatest and best Friend, but, if you so desire, “You may be happy yet,” because it’s all square with God A’mighty?’

“Before quitting this subject, I would add, if you really wish to do these poor creatures good, you must remember that your instructions are not intended for so-called fashionable society, but for those who have a fashion of their own. If you lose sight of this fact, your words will die away upon the wind, and no echo in the hearts of these poor people will answer your addresses.”

The above observations are from the pen of one who has not only had the means, but is likewise possessed of the power, of judging as to the effect of the several plans (now in course of operation) for the reformation and improvement of the London poor. I have given the comments in the writer’s own language, because I was anxious that the public should know the opinions of the best informed of the street-people themselves on this subject; and I trust I need not say that I have sought in no way to influence my correspondent’s judgment.

I now subjoin a communication from a clergyman in the country, touching the character of the tramps and lurkers frequenting his neighbourhood, together with some suggestions concerning the means of improving the condition of the London poor. These I append, because it is advisable that in so difficult a matter the sentiments of every one having sufficient experience, judgment, and heart to fit him to speak on the subject should be calmly attended to, so that amid much counsel there may be at least some little wisdom.

“The subject of the welfare of our poorer brethren was one which engaged much of my attention twenty years ago, when studying for the bar at Lincoln’s Inn, before I entered into orders; and the inquiries, &c., then made by me in reference to London, are recalled by many of your pages. I have pursued the same course, according to my limited means and opportunities (for my benefice, like thousands of others, is but 100l. a-year) in this neighbourhood, and there are very many of my clerical brethren, also, deeply anxious and exerting their means for the country poor. The details given in your numbers as to the country tramps and patterers, I can fully corroborate from personal experience and knowledge, so far as the country part of it. We never give money to beggars here, on any pretence whatever. We never give clothes. We never give relief to a naked or half-naked man if we can avoid it (the imposture is too barefaced). Medicine I do give occasionally to the sick, or pretended sick, and see them take it. Every beggar may have dry bread, or three or four tracts to sell, but never both. I know we are even thus often imposed on; but it is better to run this risk than to turn away, by chance, a starving man; and I do see the mendicants often sit down on a field near, and eat the dry bread with ravenous look. The tramps sometimes come to church on Sunday, and then beg: but we never give even bread on Sunday, because on that day they can get help at the Union workhouse, and it only tempts idlers. Sometimes we are days without a beggar, and then there will be ten to twenty per day, and then all at once the stream stops. There are no tramp lodging-houses in my parish (which is a village of 600 or 700 people). Most of the burglaries hereabouts seem connected with some inroad of tramps into the neighbourhood. The lodging-houses are very bad in some of the small towns near, but somehow the magistrates cannot get them put down. The gentry are alive here to the evil of crowded cottages, &c., and are using efforts to build better and more decent ones. But the evil results from the little landowners, who have an acre or two, or less, and build rows of cottages on them of the scantiest dimensions, at high rents,—ten per cent. on the cost of building. The rents of the gentry and nobility are very moderate to the poor, viz., scarcely two per cent. (beyond the yearly repairs) on the market value of the cottage.

“In 1832 I succeeded in getting land allotments for the poor here, and most of the parishes round have followed our example since. The success to the poor has always depended on the rent being a real rent, such as is paid by the land round about, and on the rules of good management and of payment of rent being rigidly enforced.

“The character of the poor of England must be raised, as well as their independence. They must not be left to lean on charity. I am sure that the sterling worth of the English character can only be raised by that means to the surface of society among the poor. The “English” is a fine material, but the poor neither value, nor are benefited, by mawkish nonsense or excessive feeling.

“I believe this parish was one of the most fearfully demoralized twenty years ago. It was said there was not one young female cottager of virtuous character. There was not one man who was not, or had not been, a drunkard; and theft, fighting, &c., &c., were universal. It is greatly better now—totally different—and I attribute the change to the land allotments, the provident society, the village horticultural society, the lending library, the clothing club, the coal club, the cultivating a taste for music, &c., &c., as subsidiary to the more directly pastoral work of a clergyman, and the schools, &c.

“I am probably visionary in my ideas, but the perusal of your pages has led me to think that, were I clergyman of a parish where the street-folks lived, I should aim at some schemes of this style, in addition to the benefit society and loan society (the last most important) as proposed by yourself.

“(1) To get music taught at ½d. a week, or something of the kind—a ragged-school music-room, if the people would learn gratis, would be still better—as a step to a “superior” music class at 1d. per week.

“(2) To get the poor to adorn their rooms plentifully with a better class of pictures—of places, of people, of natural history, and of historical and religious subjects—just as they might like, and a circulating library for pictures if they preferred change. This I find takes with the village poor. Provide these things excessively cheap for them—at nominal prices, just high enough to prevent them being sold at a profit by the poor.

“(3) To establish a monthly or fortnightly sheet—or little book for the poor—at ½d., or some trifle, full of pictures such as they would like, but free from impropriety. It might be called ‘The Coster’s Barrow,’ or some name which would take their fancy, and contain pictures for those who cannot read, and reading for those who can. Its contents should be instructive, and yet lively; as for instance, the ‘History of London Bridge,’ ‘History of a Codfish,’ ‘Travels of Whelks,’ ‘Dreams of St. Paul’s,’ (old History of England), ‘Voice from the Bottom of the Coal Exchange’ (Roman tales), ‘True Tale of Trafalgar,’ &c., &c. All very short articles, at which perhaps they might be angry, or praise, or abuse, or do anything, but still would read, or hear, and talk about. If possible, the little work might have a corner called, ‘The Next World’s Page,’ or any name of the kind, with nothing in it but the Lord’s Prayer, or the Creed, or the Ten Commandments, or a Parable, or Miracle, or discourse of Christ’s—in the exact words of Scripture—without any commentary; which could neither annoy the Roman Catholics nor others. Those parts in which the Douay version differs from ours might be avoided, and the Romanists be given to understand that they would always be avoided.

“The more difficult question of cheap amusements instead of the demoralizing ones now popular, is one which as yet I cannot see my way through—-but it is one which must be grappled with if any good is to be done.

“I write thus,” adds my correspondent, “because I feel you are a fellow-worker—so far as your labours show it, for the cause of God’s poor—and therefore will sympathize in anything another worker can say from experience on the same subject.”

Such are the opinions of two of my correspondents—each looking at the subject from different points of view—the one living among the people of whom he treats, and daily witnessing the effects of the several plans now in operation for the moral and physical improvement of the poor, and the other in frequent intercourse with the tramps and lurkers, on their vagrant excursions through the country, as well as with the resident poor of his own parish—the former living in friendly communion with those of whom he writes, and the latter visiting them as their spiritual adviser and material benefactor.

I would, however, before passing to the consideration of the next subject, here pause to draw special attention to the distinctive features of the several classes of people obtaining their livelihood in the streets. These viewed in regard to the causes which have induced them to adopt this mode of life, may be arranged in three different groups, viz.:

(1.) Those who are bred to the streets.

(2.) Those who take to the streets.

(3.) Those who are driven to the streets.

The class bred to the streets are those whose fathers having been street-sellers before them, have sent them out into the thoroughfares at an early age to sell either watercresses, lavender, oranges, nuts, flowers, apples, onions, &c., as a means of eking out the family income. Of such street-apprenticeship several notable instances have already been given; and one or two classes of juvenile street-sellers, as the lucifer match, and the blacking-sellers, still remain to be described. Another class of street-apprentice is to be found in the boys engaged to wheel the barrows of the costers, and who are thus at an early age tutored in all the art and mystery of street traffic, and who rarely abandon it at maturity. These two classes may be said to constitute the natives of the streets—the tribe indigenous to the paving-stones—imbibing the habits and morals of the gutters almost with their mothers’ milk. To expect that children thus nursed in the lap of the kennel, should when men not bear the impress of the circumstances amid which they have been reared, is to expect to find costermongers heroes instead of ordinary human beings. We might as well blame the various races on the face of the earth for those several geographical peculiarities of taste, which constitute their national characteristics. Surely there is a moral acclimatisation as well as a physical one, and the heart may become inured to a particular atmosphere in the same manner as the body; and even as the seed of the apple returns, unless grafted, to its original crab, so does the child, without training, go back to its parent stock—the vagabond savage. For the bred and born street-seller, who inherits a barrow as some do coronets, to be other than he is—it has here been repeatedly enunciated—is no fault of his but of ours, who could and yet will not move to make him otherwise. Might not “the finest gentleman in Europe” have been the greatest blackguard in Billingsgate, had he been born to carry a fish-basket on his head instead of a crown? and by a parity of reasoning let the roughest “rough” outside the London fish-market have had his lot in life cast, “by the Grace of God, King, Defender of the Faith,” and surely his shoulders would have glittered with diamond epaulettes instead of fish scales.

I say thus much, to impress upon the reader a deep and devout sense, that we who have been appointed to another state, are, by the grace of God, what we are, and from no special merit of our own, to which, in the arrogance of our self-conceit, we are too prone to attribute the social and moral differences of our nature. Go to a lady of fashion and tell her she could have even become a fishfag, and she will think you some mad ethnologist (if indeed she had ever heard of the science). Let me not, however, while thus seeking to impress the reader’s mind with a sense of the “antecedents” of the human character, be thought to espouse the doctrine that men are merely the creatures of events. All I wish to enforce is, that the three common causes of the social and moral differences of individuals are to be found in race, organization, and circumstances—that none of us are entirely proof against the influence of these three conditions—the ethnological, the physiological, and the associative elements of our idiosincracy. But, while I admit the full force of external nature upon us all, while I allow that we are, in many respects, merely patients, still I cannot but perceive that, in other respects we are self-agents, moving rather than being moved, by events—often stemming the current of circumstances, and at other times giving to it a special direction rather than being swept along with it. I am conscious that it is this directive and controlling power, not only over external events, but over the events of my own nature, that distinguishes me as well from the brute of the fields as it does my waking from my sleeping moments. I know, moreover, that in proportion as a man is active or passive in his operations, so is his humanity or brutality developed; that true greatness lies in the superiority of the internal forces over the external ones; and that as heroes, or extraordinary men are heroes, because they overcome the sway of one or other, or all, of the three material influences above-named, so ordinary people are ordinary, simply because they lack energy—principle—will (call it what you please) to overcome the material elements of their nature with the spiritual. And it is precisely because I know this, that I do know that those who are bred to the streets must bear about them the moral impress of the kennel and the gutter—unless we seek to develope the inward and controlling part of their constitution. If we allow them to remain the creatures of circumstances, to wander through life principleless, purposeless, conscienceless—if it be their lot to be flung on the wide waste of waters without a “guiding star” above, or a rudder or compass within, how can we (the well-fed) dare to blame them because, wanting bread, they prey and live upon their fellow-creatures?

I say thus much, because I feel satisfied that a large portion of the street-folk—and especially those who have been bred to the business—are of improvable natures; that they crave knowledge, as starving men for “the staff of life;” that they are most grateful for instruction; that they are as deeply moved by any kindness and sympathy (when once their suspicion has been overcome) as they are excited by any wrong or oppression—and I say it moreover, because I feel thoroughly convinced of the ineffectiveness of the present educational resources for the poor. We think, if we teach them reading and writing, and to chatter a creed, that we have armed them against the temptations, the trials, and the exasperations of life, believing, because we have put the knife and fork in their hands that we have really filled with food the empty bellies of their brains. We exercise their memories, make them human parrots, and then wonder that they do not act as human beings. The intellect, the conscience, the taste, indeed all that refines, enlightens, and ennobles our nature, we leave untouched, to shrivel and wither like unused limbs. The beautiful, the admirable, the true, the right, are as hidden to them as at their first day’s schooling. We impress them with no purpose, animate them with no principle; they are still the same brute creatures of circumstances—the same passive instruments—human waifs and strays—left to be blown about as the storms of life may whirl them.

Of the second group, or those who take to the streets, I entertain very different opinions. This class is distinguished from that above mentioned, in being wanderers by choice, rather than wanderers by necessity. In the early chapters of this work, I strove to point out to my readers that the human race universally consisted of two distinct classes: the wanderers and the settlers—the civilized and the savage—those who produced their food, and those who merely collected it. I sought further to show, that these two classes were not necessarily isolated, but that, on the contrary, almost every civilized tribe had its nomadic race, like parasites, living upon it. These nomadic races I proved, moreover, to have several characteristics common to the class, one of the most remarkable of which was, their adoption of a secret language, with the intent of concealing their designs and exploits. “Strange to say,” I then observed, “that despite its privations, dangers, and hardships, those who have once taken to a wandering life rarely abandon it. There are countless instances,” I added, “of white men adopting all the usages of an Indian hunter; but there is not one example of the Indian hunter or trapper, adopting the steady and regular habits of civilized society.” That this passion for “a roving life” (to use the common expression by which many of the street-people themselves designate it), is a marked feature of some natures, there cannot be a doubt in the mind of any one who has contemplated even the surface differences of human beings; and nevertheless it is a point to which no social philosopher has yet drawn attention. To my mind, it is essentially the physical cause of crime. Too restive and volatile to pursue the slow process of production, the wanderers, and consequently the collectors, of subsistence must (in a land where all things are appropriated) live upon the stock of the producers. The nomadic or vagrant class have all an universal type, whether they be the Bushmen of Africa or the “tramps” of our own country; and Mr. Knapp, the intelligent master of the Wandsworth and Clapham Union, to whom I was referred at the time of my investigations touching the subject of vagrancy, as having the greatest experience upon the matter, gave me the following graphic account, which, as I said at the time of its first publication, had perhaps never been surpassed as an analysis of the habits and propensities of the vagabond class:

“Ignorance,” to use the gentleman’s own words, “is certainly not their prevailing characteristic: indeed, with a few exceptions, it is the reverse. The vagrants are mostly distinguished by their aversion to continuous labour of any kind. He never knew them to work. Their great inclination is to be on the move, and wandering from place to place, and they appear to receive a great deal of pleasure from the assembly and conversation of the casual ward. They are physically stout and healthy, and certainly not emaciated or sickly. They belong especially to the able-bodied class, being, as he says, full of health and mischief. They are very stubborn and self-willed. They are a most difficult class to govern, and are especially restive under the least restraint; they can ill brook control, and they find great delight in thwarting the authorities. They are particularly fond of amusements of all kinds. He never knew them love reading. They mostly pass under fictitious names. They are particularly distinguished by their libidinous propensities. They are not remarkable for a love of drink. He considers them to be generally a class possessing the keenest intellect, and of a highly enterprising character. They seem to have no sense of danger, and to be especially delighted with such acts as involve any peril. They are likewise characterised by their exceeding love of mischief. They generally are of a most restless and volatile disposition. They have great quickness of perception, but little power of continuous attention or perseverance. They have a keen sense of the ridiculous, and are not devoid of deep feeling. In the summer they make regular tours through the country, visiting all places that they have not seen. They are perfectly organized, so that any regulation affecting their comforts or interests becomes known among the whole body in a remarkably short space of time.”

Every day my inquiries add some fresh proof to the justice of the above enumeration of the several phenomena distinguishing this class. To the more sedate portion of the human family, the attractions of “a roving life” are inexplicable. Nevertheless, there can be no doubt that, to the more volatile, the mere muscular exercise and the continual change of scene, together with the wild delight which attends the overcoming of any danger, are sources of pleasure sufficient to compensate for all the privations and hardships attending such a state of existence.

Mr. Ruxton, one of the many who have passed from settlers to wanderers, has given us the following description of the enjoyments of a life in the wilderness:

“Although liable to an accusation of barbarism, I must confess that the very happiest moments of my life have been spent in the wilderness of the Far West; and I never recall, but with pleasure, the remembrance of my solitary camp in the Bayou Solade, with no friend near me more faithful than my rifle, and no companions more sociable than my good horse and mules, or the attendant cayute which nightly serenaded us. Seldom did I ever wish to change such hours of freedom for all the luxuries of civilized life; and unnatural and extraordinary as it may appear, yet such is the fascination of the life of the mountain hunter, that I believe not one instance could be adduced of even the most polished and civilized of men, who had once tasted the sweets of its attendant liberty and freedom from every worldly care, not regretting the moment when he exchanged it for the monotonous life of the settlements, nor sighing and sighing again once more to partake of its pleasures and allurements.”

To this class of voluntary wanderers belong those who take to the streets, glad to exchange the wearisomeness and restraint of a settled occupation for the greater freedom and license of a nomad mode of life. As a class, they are essentially the non-working, preferring, as I said before, to collect, rather than produce, what they eat. If they sell, they do so because for sundry reasons they fear to infringe the law, and as traders their transactions certainly are not marked by an excess of honesty. I am not aware that any of them are professional thieves (for these are the more daring portion of the same vagrant fraternity), though the majority assuredly are habitual cheats—delighting in proving their cleverness by imposing upon simple-minded citizens—viewing all society as composed of the same dishonest elements as their own tribes, and looking upon all sympathy and sacrifice, even when made for their own benefit, as some “artful dodge” or trick, by which to snare them.

It should be remembered, however, that there are many grades of vagrants among us, and that though they are all essentially non-producing and, consequently, predatory, still many are in no way distinguished from a large portion of even our wealthy tradesmen—our puffing grocers and slopsellers. To attempt to improve the condition of the voluntary street-sellers by teaching of any kind, would be to talk to the wind. We might as well preach to Messrs. Moses, Nicol, and Co., in the hope of Christianising them. Those who take to the streets are not, like those who are bred to it, an uneducated class. They are intelligent and “knowing” enough, and it is this development of their intellect at the expense of their conscience which gives rise to that excessive admiration of mere cleverness, which makes skill the sole standard of excellence with them. They approve, admire, venerate nothing but what is ingenious. Wrong with them is mere folly—right, cunning; and those who think the simple cultivation of the intellect the great social panacea of the time, have merely to study the characteristics of this class to see how a certain style of education can breed the very vice it seeks to destroy. Years ago, I wrote and printed the following passage, and every year since my studies have convinced me more and more of its truth:

“Man, if deprived of his intellect, would be the most miserable and destitute,—if of his sympathy, the most savage and cunning, of all the brute creation: consequently, we may infer that, according as solely the one or the other of these powers is expanded in us, so shall we approximate in our nature either to the instinct of the brute or to the artifice of the demon, and that only when they are developed in an equal degree, can Man be said to be educated as Man. We should remember that the intellect simply executes; it is either the selfish or moral propensity that designs. The intellectual principle enables us to perceive the means of attaining any particular object; it is the selfish or else the moral principle in us, that causes us originally to desire that object. The two latter principles are the springs, the former is merely the instrument of all human action. They are masters, whereas the intellect is but the servant of the will; and hence it is evident that in proportion as the one or the other of these two predominant principles—as either the selfish or the moral disposition is educed in man, and thus made the chief director and stimulus of the intellectual power within him, so will the cultivation of that power be the source of happiness or misery to himself and others.”

The third and last class, namely, those who are driven to the streets, is almost as large as any. Luckily, those who take to that mode of life, are by far the least numerous portion of the street-folk; and if those who are bred to the business are worthy of our pity, assuredly those who are driven to it are equally, if not more, so. With some who are deprived of the means of obtaining a maintenance for themselves, the sale of small articles in the streets may, perhaps, be an excuse for begging; but in most cases, I am convinced it is adopted from a horror of the workhouse, and a disposition to do, at least, something for the food they eat. Often is it the last struggle of independence—the desire to give something like an equivalent for what they receive. Over and over again have I noticed this honourable pride, even in individuals who, from some privations or affliction that rendered them utterly incompetent to labour for their living, had a just claim on our sympathies and assistance. The blind—the cripple—the maimed—the very old—the very young—all have generally adopted a street-life, because they could do nothing else. With many it is the last resort of all. The smallness of the stock-money required—for a shilling, it has been shown, is sufficient to commence several street-trades—is one of the principal causes of so many of those who are helpless taking to the street-traffic. Moreover, the severity of the Poor-laws and the degradation of pauperism, and the aversion to be thought a common beggar by all, except the very lowest, are, I have no doubt, strong incentives to this course. There are many callings which are peculiar, as being followed principally by the disabled. The majority of the blind are musicians, or boot-lace or tape-sellers. The very old are sellers of watercresses, lucifers, pincushions, ballads, and pins and needles, stay-laces, and such small articles as are light to carry, and require but a few pence for the outlay. The very young are sellers of flowers, oranges, nuts, onions, blacking, lucifers, and the like. Many of those who have lost an arm, or a leg, or a hand, turn showmen, or become sellers of small metal articles, as knives or nutmeg-graters; and many who have been born cripples may be seen in the streets struggling for self-support. But all who are driven to the streets have not been physically disabled for labour. Some have been reduced from their position as tradesmen or shopmen; others, again, have been gentlemen’s servants and clerks; all, dragged down by a series of misfortunes, sometimes beyond their control, and sometimes brought about by their own imprudence or sluggishness. As we have seen, many are reduced to a state of poverty by long illness, and on their recovery are unable, from want of clothes or friends, to follow any other occupation.

But a still larger class than all, are the beaten-out mechanics and artizans, who, from want of employment in their own trade, take to make up small things (as clothes-horses, tin-ware, cutlery, brushes, pails, caps, and bonnets) on their own account. The number of artizans in the London streets speaks volumes for the independence of the working-men of this country; as well as for the difficulty of their obtaining employment at their own trades. Those who are unacquainted with the sterling pride of the destitute English mechanic, know not what he will suffer before becoming an inmate of a workhouse, or sinking to the debasement of a beggar. That handicraftsmen do occasionally pass into “lurkers” I know well; but these, I am convinced, have gradually been warped to the life by a long course of tramping, aided by the funds of their societies, and thus becoming disused to labour, have, after forfeiting all claims upon the funds of their trade, adopted beggary as a means of subsistence. But, that this is the exception rather than the rule, the following is sufficient to show:

“The destitute mechanics,” said the Master of the Wandsworth and Clapham Union to me, “are entirely a different class from the regular vagrants; they have different habits, and indeed different features. During the whole of my experience I never knew a distressed artizan who applied for a night’s shelter, commit an act of theft; and I have seen them,” he added, “in the last stage of destitution. Occasionally they have sold the shirt and waistcoat off their backs before they applied for admittance into the workhouse, while some of them have been so weak from long starvation that they could scarcely reach the gate, and indeed had to be kept for several days in the Infirmary before their strength was recruited sufficiently to continue their journey.” “The poor mechanic,” said another of my informants, “will sit in the casual ward like a lost man, scared. It’s shocking to think a decent mechanic’s houseless. When he’s beat out he’s like a bird out of a cage; he doesn’t know where to go, or how to get a bit.”

I shall avail myself of another occasion to discuss the means of improving the condition of the street-people.