University of Virginia Library

OF THE STREET-SELLERS OF FLY-PAPERS
AND BEETLE-WAFERS.

Fly-Papers came, generally, into street-traffic, I
am informed, in the summer of 1848.

The fly-papers are sold wholesale at many of
the oil-shops, but the principal shop for the supply
of the street-traders is in Whitechapel. The
wholesale price is 2¼d. a dozen, and the (street)
retail charge ½d. a paper, or three 1d. A young
man, to whom I was referred, and whom I found
selling, or rather bartering, crockery, gave me the
following account of his experience of the fly-
paper trade. He was a rosy-cheeked, strong-built
young fellow, and said he thought he was "getting
on" in his present trade. He spoke merrily of
his troubles, as I have found common among his
class, when they are over.

"My father had a milk-walk," he said, "and
when he died I was without money and had
nothing to do, but I soon got a place with a single
gentleman. He had a small house, and kept only
me and a old housekeeper. I was to make my-
self generally useful, but when I first went, the
most I had to do was to look after a horse that
master had. Master never was on horseback in
his life, but he took Skipjack — that was the horse's
name, he was rising six — for a debt, and kept him
two months, till he could sell him to his mind.
Master took a largeish garden — for he was fond of
growing flowers and vegetables, and made presents
of them — just before poor Skipjack went, and I
was set to work in it, besides do my house-work.
It was a easy place, and I was wery comfable.
But master, who was a good master and a friend
to a poor man, as I know, got into difficulties; he
was something in the City; I never understood
what; and one night, when I'd been above a
year and a-half with him, he told me I must go,
for he couldn't afford to keep me any longer. Next
day he was arrested, quite sudden I believe, and
sent to prison for debt. I had a good character,
but nobody cared for one from a man in prison,
and in a month my money was out, and my last
3s. 6d. went for an advertisement, what was no
good to me. I then took to holding horses or
anything that way, and used to sleep in the parks
or by the road-sides where it was quiet. I did
that for a month and more. I've sometimes never
tasted food all day, and used to quench myself
(so he worded it) with cold water from the
pumps. It took off the hunger for a time. I got
to know other boys that was living as I was, and
when I could afford it I slept at lodging-houses, the
boys took me to or told me about. One evening
a gentleman gave me 1s. for catching his horse
that he'd left standing, but it had got frightened,
and run off. Next morning I went into the fly-
paper trade, — it's nearly two years ago. I think —
because a boy I slept with did tidy in it. We
bought the papers at the first shop as was open,
and then got leave of the deputy of the lodging-
house to catch all the flies we could, and we stuck
them thick on the paper, and fastened the paper
to our hats. I used to think, when I was in ser-
vice, how a smart livery hat, with a cockade to it,
would look, but instead of that I turned out, the
first time in my life that ever I sold anything,
with my hat stuck round with flies. I felt so
ashamed I could have cried. I was miserable, I
felt so awkerd. But I spent my last 2d. in some
gin and milk to give me courage, and that bright-
ened me up a bit, and I set to work. I went
Mile-end way, and got out of the main streets,
and I suppose I'd gone into streets and places
where there hadn't often been fly-papers before,
and I soon had a lot of boys following me, and I
felt, almost, as if I'd picked a pocket, or done
something to be 'shamed of. I could hardly cry
`Catch 'em alive, only a halfpenny!' But I
found I could sell my papers to public-houses and

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shopkeepers, such as grocers and confectioners,
and that gave me pluck. The boys caught flies,
and then came up to me, and threw them against
my hat, and if they stuck the lads set up a shout.
I stuck to the trade, however, and took 2s. 6d. to
3s. every day that week, more than half of it
profit, and on Saturday I took 5s. 6d. The trade
is all to housekeepers. I called at open shops and
looked up at the windows, or held up my hat at
private houses, and was sometimes beckoned to go
in and sell my papers. Women bought most, I
think. `Nasty things,' they used to say, `there's
no keeping nothing clean for them.' I stuck to the
trade for near two months, and then I was worth
13s. 6d., and had got a pair of good shoes, and a
good second-hand shirt, with one to change it;
and next I did a little in tins and hardware, at
the places where I used to go my fly rounds, and
in the winter I got into the crock-trade, with
another young fellow for a mate, and I'm in it
yet, and getting a tidy connection, I think."

Some of the fly-paper sellers make their stock-in-
trade, but three-fourths of the number buy them
ready-made. The street-sellers make them of old
newspapers or other waste-paper, no matter how
dirty. To the paper they apply turpentine and
common coach varnish, some using resin instead of
varnish, and occasionally they dash a few grains
of sugar over the composition when spread upon
the paper.

Last summer, I was informed, there were fifty
or sixty persons selling fly-papers and beetle
wafers in the streets; some of them boys, and
all of them of the general class of street-sellers,
who "take" to any trade for which 1s. suffices
as capital. Their average earnings may be esti-
mated at 2s. 6d. a day, about one-half being
profit. This gives a street outlay, say for a
"season" of ten weeks, of 375l., calculating fifty
sellers.

A few of these street traders carried a side of a
newspaper, black with flies, attached to a stick,
waving it like a flag. The cries were "Catch 'em
alive! Catch 'em alive for ½d!" "New method
of destroying thousands!"