University of Virginia Library

OF A WIDOW, A STREET-SELLER.

A woman, apparently about 50, strong-built
and red-faced, speaking in a loud tone, and what
people of her class account a hearty manner, gave
me the following account. I can readily condense
it, for in her street career there there was nothing
very novel. She was the daughter of a coster-
monger, and she married a costermonger before
she was 20. On my hinting that sometimes
the marriage ceremony was not considered indis-
pensable, the good woman laughed and said,
"married, or as good, it's hall as one — but we
was married." The marriage was not one of unal-
loyed happiness, for the couple often wrangled
and occasionally fought. This was told to me
with some laughter, and with perfect good humour;
for the widow seemed interested to have a
listener. She did not, I feel confident, exaggerate
the merits of the deceased, nor, perhaps, his fail-
ings. He was the best judge of fish in the streets,
she said, and was the neatest hand in cutting it up,
or showing it off; he was not "a bad sort,"
and was very fond of his children. When sober
and at work he was a quiet fellow, without a
cross word for a whole morning, but when drunk,
which was far too often (unless very drunk, and
then he was silly), he went about tearing and
swearing "like one o'clock." But if he saw his
wife take but a glass or two, to do her good, he
went on like a madman, and as if he never
touched it himself. He never had nothing to
say to other women — if he had she would have
clawed their eyes out, and his'n too — he was as
good that way as any nobleman could be, and he
was a fine man to look at; and on a Sunday,
when he dressed hisself, he was beautiful. He
was never in a church in his life, and didn't
trouble hisself about such things; they was no
concern of his'n.

It may be thought that I have treated this
matter too lightly, but the foregoing is really the
substance, and certainly it is the tone, of the
widow's talk, which she poured forth freely, with-
out expressing wonder why any one, a perfect
stranger, cared to listen to such a history. She
needed but a few hints and leading questions to
make her talk on. Nor is this an uncommon
quality even among classes who would be shocked to
be classed, in any respect, with the Widowed Street-
Seller. Their own career, their own sayings and
doings, hopes and disappointments, alone interest
masses of people, and with the simplicity which not
seldom pertains to selfishness, they will readily talk
of all that interests themselves, as if it must neces-
sarily interest others. On the whole, though the
departed costermonger was greatly deplored by
his widow and family, they did very well without
him, and carry on the business to this day. He
died four or five years back.

I have no doubt this widow is a shrewd sales-

[Description: 915EAF. Page 468.]

woman enough. I have heard her cry "mack'rel,
live mack'rel, eight a shilling, mack'rel!" and at
other times, "Eight a bob, fine mack'rel, mack'rel,
eight a bob, eight a bob!" On my inquiring
as to the cause of this difference in her cries,
the fish-seller laughed and said, "I cries eight
a bob when I sees people as I thinks is likely
to like slang; to others I cries eight a shilling,
which no doubt is the right way of talking."