University of Virginia Library

OF MILK SELLING IN ST. JAMES'S PARK.

The principal sale of milk from the cow is in
St. James's Park. The once fashionable drink
known as syllabubs — the milk being drawn
warm from the cow's udder, upon a portion
of wine, sugar, spice, &c. — is now unknown.
As the sellers of milk in the park are merely
the servants of cow-keepers, and attend to the
sale as a part of their business, no lengthened
notice is required.

The milk-sellers obtain leave from the Home
Secretary, to ply their trade in the park. There
are eight stands in the summer, and as many
cows, but in the winter there are only four cows.
The milk-vendors sell upon an average, in
the summer, from eighteen to twenty quarts
per day; in the winter, not more than a third
of that quantity. The interrupted milking of
the cows, as practised in the Park, often causes
them to give less milk, than they would in
the ordinary way. The chief customers are
infants, and adults, and others, of a delicate
constitution, who have been recommended to
take new milk. On a wet day scarcely any
milk can be disposed of. Soldiers are occa-
sional customers.

A somewhat sour-tempered old woman,
speaking as if she had been crossed in love, but
experienced in this trade, gave me the following
account:

"It's not at all a lively sort of life, selling
milk from the cows, though some thinks it's
a gay time in the Park! I've often been dull
enough, and could see nothing to interest one,
sitting alongside a cow. People drink new milk
for their health, and I've served a good many such.
They're mostly young women, I think, that's de-

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licate, and makes the most of it. There's twenty
women, and more, to one man what drinks new
milk. If they was set to some good hard work,
would do them more good than new milk, or
ass's milk either, I think. Let them go on a milk-
walk to cure them — that's what I say. Some
children come pretty regularly with their nurses
to drink new milk. Some bring their own china
mugs to drink it out of; nothing less was good
enough for them. I've seen the nurse-girls
frightened to death about the mugs. I've heard
one young child say to another: `I shall tell
mama that Caroline spoke to a mechanic, who
came and shook hands with her.' The girl
was as red as fire, and said it was her brother.
Oh, yes, there's a deal of brothers comes to
look for their sisters in the Park. The great-
est fools I've sold milk to is servant-gals out
for the day. Some must have a day, or half a
day, in the month. Their mistresses ought to
keep them at home, I say, and not let them out
to spend their money, and get into nobody knows
what company for a holiday; mistresses is too
easy that way. It's such gals as makes fools
of themselves in liking a soldier to run after
them. I've seen one of them — yes, some would
call her pretty, and the prettiest is the silliest
and easiest tricked out of money, that's my opi-
nion, anyhow — I've seen one of them, and more
than one, walk with a soldier, and they've stopped
a minute, and she's taken something out of her
glove and given it to him. Then they've come
up to me, and he's said to her, `Mayn't I treat
you with a little new milk, my dear?' and he's
changed a shilling. Why, of course, the silly
fool of a gal had given him that there shilling.
I thought, when Annette Myers shot the soldier,
it would be a warning, but nothing's a warning
to some gals. She was one of those fools. It
was a good deal talked about at the stand, but
I think none of us know'd her. Indeed, we
don't know our customers but by sight. Yes,
there's now and then some oldish gentlemen —
I suppose they're gentlemen, anyhow, they're
idle men — lounging about the stand: but there's
no nonsense there. They tell me, too, that
there's not so much lounging about as there
was; those that's known the trade longer than
me thinks so. Them children's a great check
on the nusses, and they can't be such fools as
the servant-maids. I don't know how many of
them I've served with milk along with soldiers:
I never counted them. They're nothing to me.
Very few elderly people drink new milk. It's
mostly the young. I've been asked by strangers
when the Duke of Wellington would pass to the
Horse-Guards or to the House of Lords. He's
pretty regular. I've had 6d. given me — but not
above once or twice a year — to tell strangers
where was the best place to see him from as
he passed. I don't understand about this Great
Exhibition, but, no doubt, more new milk will
be sold when it's opened, and that's all I cares
about."