 | OF THE STREET-SELLERS OF EATABLES AND DRINKABLES. London Labour and the London Poor, volume 1 |  |
OF THE CUSTOMERS OF THE SWEET-STUFF
STREET-SELLERS.
Another sweet-stuff man, originally a baker,
but who, for a fortnight before I saw him, had
been attending upon an old gentleman, disabled
from an accident, gave me the following ac-
count of his customers. What I heard from
the other street-sellers satisfies me of the cor-
rectness of the statement. It will be seen that
he was possesed of some humour and observa-
tion:
"Boys and girls are my best customers, sir,
and mostly the smallest of them; but then,
again, some of them's fifty, aye, turned fifty;
Lor' love you. An old fellow, that hasn't a
stump of a tooth in front, why, he 'll stop and
buy a ha'porth of hard-bake, and he'll say,
`I've a deal of the boy left about me still.'
He doesn't show it, anyhow, in his look. I'm
sometimes a thinking I'll introduce a softer
sort of toffy — boiled treacle, such as they call
Tom Trot in some parts, but it's out of fashion
now, just for old people that's `boys still.' It
was rolled in a ha'penny stick, sir, and sold
stunnin'. The old ones wants something to suck,
and not to chew. Why, when I was a lad at
school, there was Jews used to go about with
boxes on their backs, offering rings and pencil-
cases, and lots of things that's no real use to
nobody, and they told everybody they asked to
buy `that they sold everything, and us boys
used to say — `Then give's a ha'porth of boiled
treacle.' It was a regular joke. I wish I'd
stuck more to my book then, but what can't
be cured must be endured, you know. Now,
those poor things that walks down there"
(intimating, by a motion of the head, a
thoroughfare frequented by girls of the town),
"they're often customers, but not near so
good as they was ten year ago; no, indeed, nor
six or eight year. They like something that
bites in the mouth, such as peppermint-rock, or
ginger-drops. They used to buy a penn'orth or
two and offer it to people, but they don't now, I
think. I've trusted them ha'pennies and pennies,
sometimes. They always paid me. Some that
held their heads high like, might say: `I
really have no change; I'll pay you to-morrow.'
She hadn't no change, poor lass, sure enough,
and she hadn't nothing to change either, I'll go
bail. I've known women, that seemed working
men's or little shopkeeper's wives, buy of me
and ask which of my stuffs took greatest hold
of the breath. I always knew what they was
up to. They'd been having a drop, and didn't
want it to be detected. Why, it was only last
Saturday week two niceish-looking and niceish-
dressed women, comes up to me, and one was
going to buy peppermint-rock, and the other
says to her: `Don't, you fool, he'll only think
you've been drinking gin-and-peppermint.
Coffee takes it off best.' So I lost my custom-
ers. They hadn't had a single drain that night,
I'll go bail, but still they didn't look like regular
lushingtons at all. I make farthing's-worths
of sweet-stuff, for children, but I don't like
it; it's an injury to trade. I was afraid that
when half-farthings was coined, they'd come
among children, and they'd want half a farthing
of brandy-balls. Now, talking of brandy-balls,
there's a gentleman that sometimes has a mi-
nute's chat with me, as he buys a penn'orth to
take home to his children — (every reasonable
man ought to marry and have children for the
sake of the sweet-trade, but it ain't the women's
fault that many's single still) — when one gen-
tleman I knows buys brandy-balls, he says,
quite grave, `What kind o'brandy do you put
in them?' `Not a drop of British,' says I, `I
[Description: 915EAF. Page 205.]
finely dressed; indeed, he's a leetle seedy, but
I know he's a gentleman, or what's the same
thing, if he ain't rich; for a common fellow 'll
never have his boots polished that way, every
day of his life; his blacking bills must come
heavy at Christmas. I can tell a gentleman,
too, by his way of talk, 'cause he's never bump-
tious. It's the working people's children that's
my great support, and they was a better support,
by 2s. in every 10s., and more, when times was
better; and next to them among my patrons
is poor people. Perhaps, this last year, I've
cleared 11s. a week, not more, all through. I
make my own stuffs, except the drops, and they
require machinery. I would get out of the
streets if I could."
Another of these traders told me, that he
took more in farthings, than in halfpennies or
pennies.
Calculating 200 sweet-stuff sellers, each
clearing 10s. weekly, the outlay in rocks, can-
dies, hard-bakes, &c., in the streets is 5,200l.
yearly, or nearly two and a half millions of
halfpenny-worths.
To start in the sweet-stuff business requires
a capital of 35s., including a saucepan in which
to boil sugar, 2s.; weights and scales, 4s.;
stock-money (average), 4s.; and barrow, 25s.
If the seller be not his own manufacturer, then
a tray, 1s. 9d.; and stock-money, 1s. 6d.; or
3s. 3d. in all will be sufficient.
| OF THE STREET-SELLERS OF EATABLES AND DRINKABLES. London Labour and the London Poor, volume 1 | |