University of Virginia Library

OF THE COSTERMONGERS ON THEIR COUNTRY
ROUNDS.

Some costermongers go what they term "country
rounds" and they speak of their country ex-
peditions as if they were summer excursions
of mere pleasure. They are generally variations
from a life growing monotonous. It was com-
puted for me that at present three out of every
twenty costermongers "take a turn in the coun-
try" at least once a year. Before the prevalence
of railways twice as many of these men carried
their speculations in fish, fruit, or vegetables to
a country mart. Some did so well that they
never returned to London. Two for instance,
after a country round, settled at Salisbury; they
are now regular shopkeepers, "and very respect-
able, too," was said to me, "for I believe they
are both pretty tidy off for money; and are
growing rich." The railway communication
supplies the local-dealer with fish, vegetables,
or any perishable article, with such rapidity
and cheapness that the London itinerant's
occupation in the towns and villages about the
metropolis is now half gone.

In the following statement by a costermonger,
the mode of life on a country round, is detailed
with something of an assumption of metropolitan
superiority.

"It was fine times, sir, ten year back, aye,
and five year back, in the country, and it ain't
so bad now, if a man's known. It depends on
that now far more than it did, and on a man's
knowing how to work a village. Why, I can
tell you if it wasn't for such as me, there's many
a man working on a farm would never taste
such a nice thing as a fresh herring — never, sir.
It's a feast at a poor country labourer's place,
when he springs six-penn'orth of fresh herrings,
some for supper, and some in salt for next day.
I've taken a shillings'-worth to a farmer's door
of a darkish night in a cold autumn, and they'd
a warm and good dish for supper, and looked on
me as a sort of friend. We carry them relishes
from London; and they like London relishes, for
we know how to set them off. I've fresh herringed
a whole village near Guildford, first thing in the
morning. I've drummed round Guildford too,
and done well. I've waked up Kingston with
herrings. I've been as welcome as anything to
the soldiers in the barracks at Brentwood, and
Romford, and Maidstone with my fresh herrings;
for they're good customers. In two days I've
made 2l. out of 10s. worth of fresh herrings,
bought at Billingsgate. I always lodge at a
public-house in the country; so do all of us,
for the publicans are customers. We are well
received at the public-houses; some of us go
there for the handiness of the `lush.' I've done

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pretty well with red herrings in the country. A
barrel holds (say) 800. We sell the barrels at
6d. a piece, and the old women fight after them.
They pitch and tar them, to make water-barrels.
More of us would settle in the country, only
there's no life there."

The most frequented round is from Lambeth
to Wandsworth, Kingston, Richmond, Guildford,
and Farnham. The costermonger is then "sold
out," as he calls it, — he has disposed of his
stock, and returns by the way which is most
lightly tolled, no matter if the saving of 1d. or
2d. entail some miles extra travelling. "It cost
me 15d. for tolls from Guildford for an empty
cart and donkey," said a costermonger just up
from the country.

Another round is to Croydon, Reigate, and
the neighbourhoods; another to Edgeware, Kil-
burn, Watford, and Barnet; another to Maid-
stone; but the costermonger, if he starts trading
at a distance, as he now does frequently, has
his barrow and goods sent down by railway to
such towns as Maidstone so he saves the delay
and cost of a donkey-cart. A "mate" sees to
the transmission of the goods from London, the
owner walking to Maidstone to be in readiness
to "work" them immediately he receives them.
"The railway's an ease and a saving," I was
told; "I've got a stock sent for 2s., and a don-
key's keep would cost that for the time it would
be in travelling. There's 5,000 of us, I think,
might get a living in the country, if we stuck to
it entirely."

If the country enterprise be a failure, the men
sometimes abandon it in "a pet," sell their goods
at any loss, and walk home, generally getting
drunk as the first step to their return. Some
have been known to pawn their barrow on the
road for drink. This they call "doing queer."

In summer the costermongers carry plums,
peas, new potatoes, cucumbers, and quantities
of pickling vegetables, especially green walnuts,
to the country. In winter their commodities are
onions, fresh and red herrings, and sprats. "I
don't know how it is," said one man to me,
"but we sell ing-uns and all sorts of fruits and
vegetables, cheaper than they can buy them
where they're grown; and green walnuts, too,
when you'd think they had only to be knocked
off a tree."

Another costermonger told me that, in the
country, he and his mates attended every dance
or other amusement, "if it wasn't too respect-
able." Another said: "If I'm idle in the
country on a Sunday, I never go to church. I
never was in a church; I don't know why, for
my silk handkerchief's worth more than one of
their smock-frocks, and is quite as respectable."

Some costermongers confine their exertions to
the fairs and races, and many of them are con-
nected with the gipsies, who are said to be the
usual receivers of the stolen handkerchiefs at
such places.