University of Virginia Library

12. 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 memo-
randum-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" (prin-
cipally 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.

Street-sellers of Stationery.

40 stalls, 4s. each; 80 boxes,

£ s. d.

3s. 6d. each; and stock-money for
120 sellers, 10s. each... 82 0 0

Street-sellers of Pocket-books and Diaries.

Stock-money for 20 vendors, 10s. each... 10 0 0

Street-sellers of Almanacks and Memorandum-
books.

Stock-money for 50 vendors, 1s. per head... 2 10 0

Street-sellers of Account-books.

12 baskets, 3s. each; 12 waterproof
bags, 2s. 6d. each; stock-money for
12 sellers, 15s. each... 12 6 0

Street-sellers of Cards.

Stock-money for 20 sellers, 1s. 6d. each... 2 5 0

Street-seller of Stenographic-cards.

Stock-money for 1 seller... 0 1 6

Street-sellers of Long-songs.

20 poles to which songs are at-
tached, 2d. each; stock-money for
20 sellers, 1s. each... 1 3 4

Street-sellers of Wall-songs ("Pinners-up.")

30 canvass frames, to which songs
are hung, 2s. each; stock-money for
30 sellers, 1s. each... 4 10 0

Street-sellers of Ballads ("Chaunters.")

2 fiddles, 7s. each; stock-money
for 200 chaunters, 1s. each... 10 14 0

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. each.. 10 0 0

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

Stock-money for 90 sellers, 1s. each... 4 10 0

Street-sellers of "Cocks".

Stock-money for 8 sellers, 1s. each 0 8 0

Street-sellers of Conundrums and Nuts to Crack.

Stock-money for 15 sellers, 1s. each... 0 15 0

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

Stock-money for 15 sellers, 1s. each... 0 15 0

Street-sellers of Secret Papers.

Stock-money for 6 vendors, 1s. each... 0 6 0

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

Stock-money for 200 vendors, 2s. each... 20 0 0

Street-sellers of Back Numbers.

Stock-money for 40 sellers, 5s. each... 10 0 0

Street-sellers of Waste-paper at Billingsgate.

Stock-money for 4 sellers, 5s. each 1 0 0

Street-sellers of Tracts and Pamphlets.

Stock-money for 40 sellers, 6d. each... 1 0 0

Street-sellers of Newspapers (Second Edition).

Stock-money for 20 sellers, 2s. 6d. each... 2 10 0

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

Stock-money for 12 sellers, 5s. each... 3 0 0

Street-sellers of Books by Auction.

Stock-money for 2 sellers, 2l. each; 2 barrows, 1l. each; 2 boards,
for barrows, 3s. each... 6 6 0

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. each... 201 10 0

Street-sellers of Guide-books.

Stock-money, for 16 sellers, 5s. each... 4 0 0

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

Stock-money, for 30 vendors, 1s. each... 1 10 0

Street-sellers of Pictures in Frames.

40 stalls, 2s. 6d. each; stock-
money, for 40 sellers, 5s. each.. 15 0 0

Street-sellers of Engravings in Umbrellas.

Umbrellas, 2s. 6d. each; stock-
money, for 30 sellers, 2s. each.. 3 0 0

Street-sellers of Manuscript-music.

Stock-money, for 4 sellers, 1s. 6d. each... 0 6 0

Total Capital invested in
the Street-sale of Stationery,
Literature, and the Fine
Arts... 411 5 10

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 alto-
gether 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 memo-
randum-books, at 1d. each, and 4,800
almanacks at 1d. each, among 50 ven-
dors, 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 en-
graved 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, gela-
tine, and playing-cards, during the
year, amounts to... £282

Street-seller of Stenographic Cards.

There is only 1 individual "work-
ing" 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... £31 4

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

[Description: 915EAF. Page 308.]

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 Pat-
terers.")

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, how-
ever, 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. (Stand-
ing 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 £374 8s.

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 conun-
drums 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-crack-
ers" is 2s. to 2s. 6d. It may be cal-
culated, then, that to realize the
10s. 6d. above-mentioned 15s. must
be taken. This shows the street ex-
penditure 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 Exhibi-
tions," 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 ex-
pended 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 num-
bers of periodicals amounts to up-
wards 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 newspa-
pers — is supplied to Billingsgate mar-
ket 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 Bil-
lingsgate 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 pam-
phlets 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 up-
wards 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 calcula-
tion 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; calcu-
lating that twelve carry on the trade
the year through, we find that (assum-
ing 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 bar-
rows 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 reck-
oning 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 ex-
penditure 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 ex-
pended 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 pic-
tures 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 engrav-
ings 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 con-
cerning 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 some-
thing, 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,	Dealers in Razor Paste,
Quack Doctors,	Dealers in French Polish,
Cheap Jacks,	Dealers in Plating Balls,
Grease Removers,	Dealers in CandleShades,
Wager Patterers,	Dealers in Rat Poisons, &
Ring Sellers,	Dealers in Blacking,
Dealers in Corn Salve,	Book Auctioneers.

The second class of patterers includes jug-
glers, showmen, clowns, and fortune-tellers; be-
side 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 con-
tents 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 ob-
scure 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.

[Description: 915EAF. Page 310.]

But casual observers cannot, from the com-
plexity and varied circumstances of the charac-
ters 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 ad-
vantage — if so it may be called — has fallen to
my lot."

The three classes of patterers above enume-
rated 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 "en-
terprising" class of shopkeepers, who resort to
the printed mode of puffing off their wares, —
indeed the street-sellers are far less reprehen-
sible 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."

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 scanda-
lously adulterated of all.

We should, therefore, remember while vent-
ing 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 as-
sumed calamities. These parties, it should be
distinctly understood, are in no way connected
with the puffing street-sellers, but in the exag-
gerated character of the orations they deliver,
they are mostly professional beggars — or bounc-
ers (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 accommoda-
tion 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- houses	Beds.	Needys, or Nightly	Lodgers.
Wandsworth	6	9	108
Croydon	9	8	144
Reigate	5	6	60
Cuckfield	2	8	32
Horsham	3	7	52
Lewis	7	6	84
Kingston	12	8	192
Brighton	16	9	228

"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 not 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.)

                       

Kensington	6	7	84
Brentford	12	8	192
Hounslow	6	5	60
Colebrook	2	7	20
Windsor	7	10	140
Maidenhead	4	5	40
Reading	12	9	216
Oxford	14	7	196
Banbury	10	12	240
Marlboro'	8	7	112
Bath	10	8	160
Bristol	20	11	440

"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 dif-
ferent. There a farmer will give 1s. rather than
let a traveller sleep on his premises, for fear

[Description: 915EAF. Page 311.]

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- houses	Beds.	Needys, or Nightly Lodgers.	Deptford #18 #9 #324
Greenwich	6	8	26
Woolwich	9	8	144
Gravesend	6	7	84
Chatham	20	10	400
Maidstone	5	7	70
Sittingbourne	3	6	36
Sheerness	4	5	40
Faversham	3	5	30
Canterbury	11	8	176
Dover	12	9	216
Ramsgate	4	5	40
Margate	6	6	72

ESSEX.

                         

Stratford	10	9	180
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
Colchester	15	10	300

"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
Northampton	13	9	234
Towcester	4	7	56
Daventry	5	9	90
Coventry	16	9	288
Birmingham	50	11	1100

HERTS AND BEDFORDSHIRE.

                         

Edmonton	14	7	196
Waltham-Abbey	3	6	36
Cheshunt-Street	2	7	28
Hoddesden	3	8	48
Hertford	9	9	162
Ware	7	10	140
Puckeridge	2	5	20
Buntingford	3	8	48
Royston	4	10	40
Hitchin	7	9	126
Luton	6	8	96
Bedford	9	7	126
St. Alban's	8	6	96

SUFFOLK AND NORFOLK.

           

Ipswich	24	8	384
Hadleigh	8	7	112
Halsted	5	6	60
Stowmarket	4	7	56
Woodbridge	6	5	60
Sudbury	4	7	56

           

Dossing Cribs, or Lodging- houses	Beds.	Needys, or Nightly Lodgers.	Bury St. Edmund's #8 #8 #128
Thetford	3	6	36
Attleboro'	2	5	20
Wymondham	1	11	22
Norwich	40	9	720
Yarmouth	16	8	256

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 sub-
join a brief description of the "business" — for
although the "screevers," "economically" con-
sidered, 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 oppor-
tunities 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 `eadgers,' `their
man of business.' Their histories vary as much
as their abilities; generally speaking they have
been clerks, teachers, shopmen, reduced gentle-

[Description: 915EAF. Page 312.]

men, or the illegitimate sons of members of
the aristocracy; while others, after having re-
ceived a liberal education, have broken away
from parental control, and commenced the `pro-
fession' 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 docu-
ments," says my informant, "and describe
some of the scenes connected with their pre-
paration. The documents themselves are
mournful catalogues of all the ills that flesh is
heir to.

"I address myself first to that class of peti-
tions 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 subscrip-
tion-book, sometimes only a fly-leaf or two to
the document, to receive the names of con-
tributors.

"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' (per-
ceive 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 John-
son, 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 parti-
culars). `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 Ports-
mouth, in the country of Hants. That we, the
Master of Customs, and two of her Majesty's
Justices of the Peace for the said harbour and
eounty, 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 there-
with, and do empower them to present and use
this certificate for twenty-eight days from the
date hereof, to enable them to get such tem-
poral 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.	\cp\1	0	0
James Flood, J.P.	1	0	0
Capt. W. Hope, R.N., J.P.	1	10	0

`Given at Portsmouth, this 10th day of Octo-
ber, 1850.

`God save the Queen.'

       

Rev. W. Wilkins	\cp\1	0	0
An Officer's Widow	0	10	0
An Old Sailor	0	5	0
A Friend	0	2	6'

"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 conside-
rable 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' metro-
polis), and sent into the country to order, care-
fully 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 Lon-
don with spede,' may tend to illuminate the
uninitiated as to how such `fakements' are
obtained:

"The person from whom the above letter
was obtained, was in the lodging-house when it

[Description: 915EAF. Page 313.]

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 Car-
rotty 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, pro-
claimed, 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 it it
was long written and often examined, attached
the signatures of the minister and churchwar-
dens, and dipping his fingers under the fire-
place, 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 fake-
ment. 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 in food, beer, and tobacco.
The following is a fair estimate of the scale of
charges:

                 

	s.	d.
Friendly letter	0	6
Long ditto	0	9
Petition	1	0
Ditto, with ream monekurs (genuine signatures)	1	6
Ditto, with gammy monekurs (forged names)	2	6
Very "heavy" (dangerous)	3	0
Manuscript for a broken down author	10	0
Part of a play for ditto	7	6

"To this I may add the prices of other arti-
cles in the begging line.

             

Loan of one child, without grub	0	9
Two ditto	1	0
Ditto, with grub and Godfrey's Cordial	0	9
If out after twelve at night, for each child, extra	0	2
For a school of children, say half-a-dozen	2	6
Loan of any garment, per day	0	2
Going as a pal to vindicate any statement	1	0

"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 ampu-
tation 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 draughts-
man, 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 back-
ground of women tearing their hair, and a few
little girls crying. Such a `fakement,' pro-
fessionally filled up and put into the hands of
an experienced lurker, will bring the `amanu-
ensis,' or `screever,' two guineas at least, and
the proceeds of such an expedition have in many
cases averaged 60l. per week. The lurker pre-
senting this would have to take with him three
or four countrymen, dressed in the garb of col-
liers, one at least knowing something of under-
ground work. These he would engage at `a bob
a nob' (one shilling each), and if he made a

[Description: 915EAF. Page 314.]

good day, give them a `toothful o' rum' beside.
As such men are always 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 pre-
viously 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 let-
ters, but the vast majority are obliged to have
assistance. Of course, they are sometimes de-
tected 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 beg-
ging, are very retired and cautious in their
appeals. They write concisely, and their state-
ments 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 cer-
tain 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 distin-
guished M.P., who took a lively interest in the
emancipation of the Jews. He offered to visit
the provinces, hold meetings, and get up peti-
tions. 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 men-
tion 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 counter-
manded 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 fake-
ments are presented, become referees to profes-
sional 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 pros-
pect 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 sub-
ject, 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 trans-
ported at the last Bristol Assizes — had just
received a cheque for 100l. from a nobleman
lately deceased.

"Most of the `professionals' of this class in-
clude 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

[Description: 915EAF. Page 315.]

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 pat-
terers, lurkers, and screevers, with some obser-
vations 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 character-
istics.

"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 theolo-
gical 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 interest-
ing to the wretched community in question?
The great hindrance (in my opinion) to the pro-
gress 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 prac-
tice; 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 ascer-
taining 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 ad-
dresses.

"It will, perhaps, relieve the monotony of
this statement if I give an illustration commu-
nicated to me by a person well qualified to de-
termine 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 lord-
ship accepted an invitation to preach on behalf
of the schools connected with the `ten new
churches' of Bethnal-green. The church se-
lected 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

[Description: 915EAF. Page 316.]

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 in-
vited 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 eleverer' 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 `tum-
bled to' it immediately. It was a case of oppres-
sion; and whether the oppressors belonged to
Oxford University or to Scotland-yard militated
nothing against the aphorism: `it's just a pic-
ture of ourselves!'

"It seems to me that these poor creatures un-
derstood the circumstances better than they did
the sermon; and my inference is, that whether
from the parochial pulpit, or the missionary ex-
hortation, 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 confi-
dence, 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 at-
tention, and I doubt not that much crime and
degradation has been prevented by total absti-
nence from all intoxicating drinks; but I would
rather raise the tone of moral feeling by intelli-
gent and ennobling means than by those spas-
modic 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 un-
cared 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, can-
not 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 unre-
strained on their way home to say and do every-
thing subversive of the good instruction they
have received." [It is right I should here
state, that these are my informant's own un-
biassed sentiments, delivered without communi-
cation 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 corre-
spondent.]

"The most efficient means of moral re-
form 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 mecha-
nics' institutes of the metropolis. In these, for
one farthing per night, three-halfpence a week,
or sixpence a month, lectures, exhibitions, news-
papers, &c., are available to the very poor.
These, and such as these, I humbly but earn-
estly 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 dan-
gerous."

Another laudable attempt to improve the con-
dition 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 ma-
nagement of these houses, as well as their in-
ternal 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 im-
portance 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 re-
form 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 morn-
ing till night.

"There is a model lodging-house in West-
minster, 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, con-
ducted by different missionaries, and twice on
Sundays. Attendance on these services is op-
tional; 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 main-
tained 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 Kin-
naird 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 excel-
lence 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, scru-
tinise 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, more-
over," adds my informant, "are kept in bond-
age, and made to feel that bondage, to the almost
annihilation of old English independence. It
is thought by the managers of these establish-
ments, 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 pro-
fessed benevolence, are making the poor poorer,
by adding insult to wretchedness. If my re-
marks upon these establishments appear," adds
the writer of the above remarks, "to be in-
vidious, 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, coun-
terfeit virtue, counterfeit modesty, counterfeit
religion, and last, but not least, `counterfeit
model lodging-houses.' Many private adven-
turers have thus dignified their domiciles, and
some of them highly merit the distinction, while
with others it is only a cloak for greater un-
cleanliness 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 re-
sorts 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

[Description: 915EAF. Page 318.]

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 pro-
ductive of real and extensive good. Whether
it has done so, or done so to any extent, is
perhaps an open question. Our town mis-
sionary 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 prin-
ciple, 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 enter-
prise. At the commencement of the labours of
the Mission in any particular locality great op-
position was manifested, and a great amount of
prejudice, with habits of the most immoral kind
— openly carried on without any public cen-
sure — 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 argu-
ment which will do for the study will not do for
the man who spends all his spare time in a pub-
lic-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 fore-
fathers when God was alive and active, but that
now the Almighty did not `fash' (trouble) him-
self 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," be-
cause 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 so-
ciety, 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 them-
selves 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 cler-
gyman in the country, touching the character of
the tramps and lurkers frequenting his neigh-
bourhood, together with some suggestions con-
cerning 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 expe-
rience, 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 opportu-
nities (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).

[Description: 915EAF. Page 319.]

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 work-
house, 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 here-
abouts 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 build-
ing. 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 allot-
ments 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 so-
ciety, 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 his-
torical 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 exces-
sively 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 Lon-
don 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 Tra-
falgar,' &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, "be-
cause 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 any-
thing another worker can say from experience
on the same subject."

Such are the opinions of two of my cor-
respondents — each looking at the subject from
different points of view — the one living among
the people of whom he treats, and daily wit-
nessing the effects of the several plans now in
operation for the moral and physical improve-
ment of the poor, and the other in frequent in-

[Description: 915EAF. Page 320.]

tercourse 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 bene-
factor.

I would, however, before passing to the con-
sideration 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, laven ler,
oranges, nuts, flowers, apples, onions, &c., as a
means of eking out the family income. Of
such street-apprenticeship several notable in-
stances 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 costermon-
gers heroes instead of ordinary human beings.
We might as well blame the various races on
the face of the earth for those several geogra-
phical 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 injured to a parti-
cular 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 arro-
gance 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 de-
veloped; that true greatness lies in the supe-
riority 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 in-
fluences 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 con-
trolling part of their constitution. If we allow
them to remain the creatures of circumstances,
to wander through life principleless, purpose-
less, 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 —

[Description: 915EAF. Page 321.]

are of improvable natures; that they crave
knowledge, as starving men for "the staff of
life;" that they are most grateful for instruc-
tion; that they are as deeply moved by any
kindness and sympathy (when once their sus-
picion 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 tempta-
tions, 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 con-
science, the taste, indeed all that refines, en-
lightens, 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 circum-
stances — 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 chap-
ters of this work, I strove to point out to my
readers that the human race universally con-
sisted 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 pri-
vations, 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 In-
dian 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 philo-
sopher 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 in-
vestigations 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 publi-
cation, 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 charac-
teristic: 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 wan-
dering from place to place, and they appear to
receive a great deal of pleasure from the assem-
bly 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 autho-
rities. They are particularly fond of amuse-
ments 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 re-
markable 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 mis-
chief. They generally are of a most restless
and volatile disposition. They have great
quickness of perception, but little power of con-
tinuous 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 per-
fectly 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 inexpli-
cable. Nevertheless, there can be no doubt that,
to the more volatile, the mere muscular exercise

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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 hard-
ships 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 bar-
barism, 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 oc-
cupation for the greater freedom and license of a
nomad mode of life. As a class, they are essen-
tially 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-pro-
ducing 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 Christian-
ising 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 intel-
lect 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 ap-
proximate 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 pro-
pensity 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 origin-
ally to desire that object. The two latter prin-
ciples are the springs, the former is 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 pro-
portion 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 culti-
vation 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, some-
thing for the food they eat. Often is it the last
struggle of independence — the desire to give
something like an equivalent for what they re-
ceive. 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 assist-
ance. The blind — the cripple — the maimed —

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the very old — the very young — all have gene-
rally 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 re-
quired — 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 call-
ings which are peculiar, as being followed prin-
cipally by the disabled. The majority of the
blind are musicians, or boot-lace or tape-
sellers. The very old are sellers of water-
cresses, 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, black-
ing, 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 physi-
cally 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 in-
dependence 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 expe-
rience 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 con-
tinue their journey." "The poor mechanic,"
said another of my informants, "will sit in the
casual ward like a lost man, scared. Its shock-
ing 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.