London Labour and the London Poor, Vol. 2 (part 3 of 7)

London Labour and the London Poor, Vol. 2 (part 3 of 7)

I hereby certify that of , in the parish of in the county of Middlesex, is this day registered in a book of the Company of the Master, Wardens, and Commonalty of Watermen and Lightermen of the river Thames, kept for that purpose, to use, work, or navigate a boat called a skiff, named , number , for the purpose of selling, disposing of, or exposing for sale to and amongst the seamen, or other persons employed in and about any of the ships or vessels upon the said river, any liquors, slops, or other articles whatsoever, between London Bridge and Limehouse Hole; but the said boat is not to be used on the said river for any other purpose than the aforesaid.

Waterman’s Hall,

JAS. BANYON, Clerk.

Beside the regular purl-men, or, as they may be called, bumboat-men, there are two or three others who, perhaps unable to purchase a boat, and take out the licence, have nevertheless for a number of years contrived to carry on a traffic in spirits among the ships in the Thames. Their practice is to carry a flat tin bottle concealed about their person, with which they go on board the first ship in a tier, where they are well known by those who may be there employed. If the seamen wish for any spirit the river-vendor immediately supplies it, entering the name of the customers served, as none of the vendors ever receive, at the time of sale, any money for what they dispose of; they keep an account till their customers receive their wages, when they always contrive to be present, and in general succeed in getting what is owing to them. What their profits are it is impossible to tell, perhaps they may equal those of the regular purl-man, for they go on board of almost every ship in the course of the day. When their tin bottle is empty they go on shore to replenish it, doing so time after time if necessary.

It is remarkable that although these people are perfectly well known to every purl-man on the river, who have seen them day by day, for many years going on board the various ships, and are thoroughly cognizant of the purpose of their visits, there has never been any information laid against them, nor have they been in any way interrupted in their business.

There is one of these river spirit-sellers who has pursued the avocation for the greater part of his life; he is a native of the south of Ireland, now very old, and a little shrivelled-up man. He may still be seen every day, going from ship to ship by scrambling over the quarters where they are lashed together in tiers--a feat sometimes attended with danger to the young and strong; yet he works his way with the agility of a man of 20, gets on board the ship he wants, and when there, were he not so well known, he might be thought to be some official sent to take an inventory of the contents of the ship, for he has at all times an ink-bottle hanging from one of his coat buttons, a pen stuck over his ear, spectacles on his nose, a book in his hand, and really has all the appearance of a man determined on doing business of some sort or other. He possesses a sort of ubiquity, for go where you will through any part of the pool you are sure to meet him. He seems to be expected everywhere; no one appears to be surprised at his presence. Captains and mates pass him by unnoticed and unquestioned. As suddenly as he comes does he disappear, to start up in some other place. His visits are so regular, that it would scarcely look like being on board ship if “old D----, the whiskey man,” as he is called, did not make his appearance some time during the day, for he seems to be in some strange way identified with the river, and with every ship that frequents it.

OF THE NUMBERS, CAPITAL, AND INCOME OF THE STREET-SELLERS OF SECOND-HAND ARTICLES, LIVE ANIMALS, MINERAL PRODUCTIONS, ETC.

The hawkers of second-hand articles, live animals, mineral productions, and natural curiosities, form, as we have seen, large important classes of the street-sellers. According to the facts already given, there appear to be at present in the streets, 90 sellers of metal wares, including the sellers of second-hand trays and Italian-irons; 30 sellers of old linen, as wrappers and towelling; 80 vendors of second-hand (burnt) linen and calico; 30 sellers of curtains; 30 sellers of carpeting, &c.; 30 sellers of bed-ticking, &c.; 6 sellers of old crockery and glass; 25 sellers of old musical instruments; 6 vendors of second-hand weapons; 6 sellers of old curiosities; 6 vendors of telescopes and pocket glasses; 30 to 40 sellers of other miscellaneous second-hand articles; 100 sellers of men’s second-hand clothes; 30 sellers of old boots and shoes; 15 vendors of old hats; 50 sellers of women’s second-hand apparel; 30 vendors of second-hand bonnets, and 10 sellers of old furs; 116 sellers of second-hand articles at Smithfield-market;--making altogether 725 street-sellers of second-hand commodities.

But some of the above trades are of a temporary character only, as in the case of the vendors of old linen towelling or wrappers, carpets, bed-ticking, &c.--the same persons who sell the one often selling the others; the towels and wrappers, moreover, are offered for sale only on the Monday and Saturday nights. Assuming, then, that upwards of 100 or one-sixth of the above number sell two different second-hand articles, or are not continually employed at that department of street-traffic, we find the total number of street-sellers belonging to this class to be about 500.

Concerning the number selling live animals in the streets, there are 50 men vending fancy and sporting dogs; 200 sellers and “duffers” of English birds; 10 sellers of parrots and other foreign birds; 3 sellers of birds’-nests, &c.; 20 vendors of squirrels; 6 sellers of leverets and wild rabbits; 35 vendors of gold and silver fish; 20 vendors of tortoises; and 14 sellers of snails, frogs, worms, &c.; or, allowing for the temporary and mixed character of many of these trades, we may say that there are 200 constantly engaged in this branch of street-commerce.

Then of the street-sellers of mineral productions and natural curiosities, there are 216 vendors of coals; 1500 sellers of coke; 14 sellers of tan-turf; 150 vendors of salt; 70 sellers of sand; 26 sellers of shells; or 1969 in all. From this number the sellers of shells must be deducted, as the shell-trade is not a special branch of street-traffic. We may, therefore, assert that the number of people engaged in this latter class of street-business amounts to about 1900.

Now, adding all these sums together, we have the following table as to the numbers of individuals comprised in the first division of the London street-folk, viz. the street-sellers:--

1. Costermongers (including men, women, and children engaged in the sale of fish, fruit, vegetables, game, poultry, flowers, &c.) 30,000 2. Street-sellers of “green stuff,” including water-cresses, chickweed and gru’n’sel, turf, &c. 2,000 3. Street-sellers of eatables and drinkables 4,000 4. Street-sellers of stationery, literature, and fine arts 1,000 5. Street-sellers of manufactured articles of metal, crockery, glass, textile, chemical, and miscellaneous substances 4,000 6. Street-sellers of second-hand articles, including the sellers of old metal articles, old glass, old linen, old clothes, old shoes, &c. 500 7. Street-sellers of live animals, as dogs, birds, gold and silver fish, squirrels, leverets, tortoises, snails, &c. 200 8. Street-sellers of mineral productions and natural curiosities, as coals, coke, tan-turf, salt, sand, shells, &c. 1,900 ______ TOTAL NUMBER OF STREET-SELLERS 43,640

These numbers, it should be remembered, are given rather as an approximation to the truth than as the absolute fact. It would therefore be safer to say, making all due allowance for the temporary and mixed character of many branches of street-commerce, that there are about 40,000 people engaged in selling articles in the streets of London. I am induced to believe that this is very near the real number of street-sellers, from the wholesale returns of the places where the street-sellers purchase their goods, and which I have always made a point of collecting from the best authorities connected with the various branches of street-traffic. The statistics of the fish and green markets, the swag-shops, the old clothes exchange, the bird-dealers, which I have caused to be collected for the first time in this country, all tend to corroborate this estimate.

The next fact to be evolved is the amount of capital invested in the street-sale of Second-hand Articles, of Live Animals, and of Mineral Productions. And, first, as to the money employed in the Second-hand Street-Trade.

The following tables will show the amount of capital invested in this branch of street-business.

Street-Sellers of Second-hand Metal Wares.

30 stalls, 5_s._ each; 20 barrows, 1_l._ £ s. d. each; stock-money for 50 vendors, at 10_s._ per head 52 10 0

Street-Sellers of Second-hand Metal Trays.

Stock-money for 20 sellers, at 5_s._ 5 0 0

Street-Sellers of other Second-hand Metal Articles, as Italian and Flat Irons.

Stock-money for 20 vendors, at 5_s._ each; 20 stalls, at 3_s._ each 8 0 0

Street-Sellers of Second-hand Linen, &c.

Stock-money for 30 vendors, at 5_s._ per head 7 10 0

_Street-Sellers of Second-hand (burnt) Linen and Calico._

Stock-money for 80 vendors, at 10_s._ each 40 0 0

Street-Sellers of Second-hand Curtains.

Stock-money for 30 sellers, at 5_s._ each 7 10 0

_Street-Sellers of Second-hand Carpeting, Flannels, Stocking-legs, &c._

Stock-money for 30 sellers, at 6_s._ each 9 0 0

_Street-Sellers of Second-hand Bed-ticking, Sacking, Fringe, &c._

Stock-money for 30 sellers, at 4_s._ each 6 0 0

Street-Sellers of Second-hand Glass and Crockery.

6 barrows, 15_s._ each; 6 baskets, 1_s._ 6_d._ each; stock-money for 6 vendors, at 5_s._ each 6 9 0

_Street-Sellers of Second-hand Miscellaneous Articles._

Stock-money for 5 vendors, at 15_s._ each 3 15 0

Street-Sellers and Duffers of Second-hand Music.

Stock-money for 25 sellers, at 1_l._ each 25 0 0

Street-Sellers of Second-hand Weapons.

Stock-money for 6 vendors, at 1_l._ each 6 0 0

Street-Sellers of Second-hand Curiosities.

6 barrows, 15_s._ each; stock-money for 6 vendors, at 15_s._ per head 9 0 0

_Street-Sellers of Second-hand Telescopes and Pocket-Glasses._

Stock-money for 6 vendors, at 4_l._ each 24 0 0

Street-Sellers of other Miscellaneous Articles.

30 stalls, 5_s._ each; stock-money for 30 sellers, at 15_s._ each 30 0 0

Street-Sellers of Men’s Second-hand Clothes.

100 linen bags, at 2_s._ each; stock-money for 100 sellers, at 15_s._ each 85 0 0

Street-Sellers of Second-hand Boots and Shoes.

10 stalls, at 3_s._ each; 30 baskets, at 2_s._ 6_d._ each; stock-money for 30 sellers, at 10_s._ each 20 5 0

Street-Sellers of Second-hand Hats.

30 irons, two to each man, at 2_s._ each; 60 blocks, at 1_s._ 6_d._ per block; stock-money for 15 vendors, at 10_s._ each 15 0 0

Street-Sellers of Women’s Second-hand Apparel.

Stock-money for 50 sellers, at 10_s._ each; 50 baskets, at 2_s._ 6_d._ each 31 5 0

Street-Sellers of Second-hand Bonnets.

10 umbrellas, at 3_s._ each; 30 baskets, at 2_s._ 6_d._ each; stock-money for 30 sellers, at 5_s._ each 12 15 0

Street-Sellers of Second-hand Furs.

Stock-money for 10 vendors, at 7_s._ 6_d._ each 3 15 0

_Street-Sellers of Second-hand Articles in Smithfield-market._

30 sellers of harness sets and collars, at an average capital of 15_s._ each; 6 sellers of saddles and pads, at 15_s._ each; 10 sellers of bits, at 3_s._ each; 6 sellers of wheel-springs and trays, at 15_s._ each; 6 sellers of boards and trestles for stalls, at 10_s._ each; 20 sellers of barrows, small carts, and trucks, at 5_l._ each; 6 sellers of goat carriages, at 3_l._ each; 6 sellers of shooting galleries and guns for ditto, and drums for costers, at 15_s._ each; 10 sellers of measures, weights, and scales, at 25_s._ each; 5 sellers of potato cans and roasted-chestnut apparatus, at 5_l._ each; 3 sellers of ginger-beer trucks, at 5_l._ each; 6 sellers of pea-soup cans and pickled-eel kettles, 15_s._ each; 2 sellers of elder-wine vessels, at 15_s._ each. Thus we find that the average number of street-sellers frequenting Smithfield-market once a week is 116, and the average capital 217 0 0 -------------- TOTAL AMOUNT OF CAPITAL BELONGING TO STREET-SELLERS OF SECOND-HAND ARTICLES 621 14 0

STREET-SELLERS OF LIVE ANIMALS.

Street-Sellers of Dogs.

Stock-money for 20 sellers (including kennels and keep), at 5_l._ 15_s._ each seller 115 0 0

Street-Sellers and Duffers of Birds (English).

2400 small cages (reckoning 12 to each seller), at 6_d._ each; 1200 long cages (allowing 6 cages to each seller), at 2_s._ each; 1800 large cages (averaging 9 cages to each seller), at 2_s._ 6_d._ each. Stock-money for 200 sellers, at 20_s._ each 605 0 0

Street-Sellers of Parrots, &c.

20 cages, at 10_s._ each; stock-money for 10 sellers, at 30_s._ each 25 0 0

Street-Sellers of Birds’-Nests.

3 hamper baskets, at 6_d._ each 1 6

Street-Sellers of Squirrels.

Stock-money for 20 vendors, at 10_s._ each 10 0 0

Street-Sellers of Leverets, Wild Rabbits, &c.

6 baskets, at 2_s._ each; stock-money for 6 vendors, at 5_s._ each 2 2 0

Street-Sellers of Gold and Silver Fish.

35 glass globes, at 2_s._ each; 35 small nets, at 6_d._ each; stock-money for 35 vendors, at 15_s._ each 30 12 6

Street-Sellers of Tortoises.

Stock-money for 20 vendors, at 10_s._ each 25 0 0

_Street-Sellers of Snails, Frogs, Worms, Snakes, Hedgehogs, &c._

14 baskets, at 1_s._ each 14 0 -------------- TOTAL AMOUNT OF CAPITAL BELONGING TO STREET-SELLERS OF LIVE ANIMALS 798 10 0

STREET-SELLERS OF MINERAL PRODUCTIONS AND NATURAL CURIOSITIES.

Street-Sellers of Coals.

30 two-horse vans, at 70_l._ each; 100 horses, at 20_l._ each; 100 carts, at 10_l._ each; 160 horses, at 10_l._ each; 20 donkey or pony carts, at 1_l._ each; 20 donkeys or ponies, at 1_l._ 10_s._ each; 210 sets of weights and scales, at 1_l._ 10_s._ each; stock-money for 210 vendors, at 2_l._ each 7,485 0 0

Street-Sellers of Coke.

100 vans, at 70_l._ each; 100 horses, at 20_l._ each; 300 carts, at 10_l._ each; 300 horses, at 10_l._ each; 500 donkey-carts, at 1_l._ each; 500 donkeys, at 1_l._ each; 200 trucks and barrows, at 10_s._ each; 4800 sacks for the 100 vans, at 3_s._ 6_d._ each; 3600 sacks for the 300 carts; 3000 sacks for the 500 donkey carts; 1652 sacks for the 550 trucks and barrows; 300 sacks for the 50 women; stock-money for 1500 vendors, at 1_l._ per head 19,936 12 0

Street-Sellers of Tan-Turf.

12 donkeys and carts, at 2_l._ each; 2 trucks, at 15_s._ each; stock-money for 14 vendors, at 10_s._ each 32 10 0

Street-Sellers of Salt.

75 donkeys and carts, at 2_l._ 5_s._ each; 75 barrows, at 10_s._ each; stock-money for 150 vendors, at 6_s._ each 251 5 0

Street-Sellers of Sand.

20 horses, at 10_l._ each; 20 carts, at 3_l._ each; 60 baskets, at 2_s._ each; wages of 30 men, at 3_s._ per day for each; expenses for keep of 20 horses, at 10_s._ per head; estimated stock-money for 30 sellers, at 5_s._ each; 40 barrows, at 15_s._ each; stock-money for the barrow-men, at 1_s._ 6_d._ each 320 5 0

Street-Sellers of Shells.

Stock-money for 70 vendors, at 5_s._ each 17 10 0 ----------------- TOTAL CAPITAL BELONGING TO STREET-SELLERS OF MINERAL PRODUCTIONS, ETC. 28,043 2 0

River-Sellers of Purl.

35 boats, at 4_l._ 10_s._ each; 35 sets of measures, at 5_s._ the set; 35 warming pots, at 1_s._ 6_d._ each; 35 fire-stoves, at 5_s._ each; 35 gallon cans, at 2_s._ 6_d._ each; 70 “pins” of beer, at 4_s._ per “pin;” 35 quarts of gin, at 2_s._ 6_d._ the quart; 35 licences, at 3_s._ 6_d._; stock-money for spice, &c., at 1_s._ each 208 5 0

Hence it would appear that the gross amount of property belonging to the street-sellers may be reckoned as follows:--

Value of stock-in-trade belonging to costermongers 25,000 0 0

Ditto street-sellers of green-stuff 149 0 0

Ditto street-sellers of eatables and drinkables 9,000 0 0

Ditto street-sellers of stationery, literature, and the fine arts 400 0 0

Ditto street-sellers of manufactured articles 2,800 0 0

Ditto street-sellers of second-hand articles 621 14 0

Ditto street-sellers of live animals 798 10 0

Ditto street-sellers of mineral productions, &c. 28,043 2 0

Ditto river-sellers of purl 208 5 0 ---------------- TOTAL AMOUNT OF CAPITAL BELONGING TO THE LONDON STREET-SELLERS 67,023 11 0

The gross value of the stock in trade of the London street-sellers may then be estimated at about 60,000_l._

INCOME, OR “TAKINGS,” OF THE STREET-SELLERS OF SECOND-HAND ARTICLES.

We have now to estimate the receipts of each of the above-mentioned classes.

Street-Sellers of Second-hand Metal Wares.

I was told by several in this trade £ s. d. that there were 200 old metal sellers in the streets, but, from the best information at my command, not more than 50 appear to be strictly street-sellers, unconnected with shopkeeping. Estimating a weekly receipt, per individual, of 15_s._ (half being profit), the yearly street outlay among this body amounts to 1,950 0 0

Street-Sellers of Second-hand Metal-Trays, &c.

Calculating that 20 persons take in the one or two nights’ sale 4_s._ a week each, on second-hand trays (33 per cent. being the rate of profit), the street expenditure amounts yearly to 208 0 0

Street-Sellers of other Second-hand Metal Articles, as Italian and Flat Irons, &c.

There are, I am informed, 20 persons selling Italian and flat irons regularly throughout the year in the streets of London; each takes upon an average 6s. weekly, which gives an annual expenditure of upwards of 312 0 0

Street-Sellers of Second-hand Linen, &c.

There are at present 30 men and women who sell towelling and canvas wrappers in the streets on Saturday and Monday nights, each taking in the sale of those articles 9_s._ per week, thus giving an annual outlay of 702 0 0

_Street-Sellers of Second-hand (burnt) Linen and Calico._

The most intelligent man whom I met with in this trade calculated that there were 80 of these second-hand street-folk plying their trade two nights in the week; and that they took 8_s._ each weekly, about half of it being profit; thus the annual street expenditure would be 1,664 0 0

Street-Sellers of Second-hand Curtains.

From the best data at my command there are 30 individuals who are engaged in the street-sale of second-hand curtains, and reckoning the weekly takings of each to be 5_s._, we find the yearly sum spent in the streets upon second-hand curtains amounts to 390 0 0

_Street-Sellers of Second-hand Carpeting, Flannels, Stocking-legs, &c._

I am informed that the same persons selling curtains sell also second-hand carpeting, &c.; their weekly average takings appear to be about 6_s._ each in the sale of the above articles, thus we have a yearly outlay of 468 0 0

_Street-Sellers of Second-hand Bed-ticking, Sacking, Fringe, &c._

The street-sellers of curtains, carpeting, &c., of whom there are 30, are also the street-sellers of bed-ticking, sacking, fringe, &c. Their weekly takings for the sale of these articles amount to 4_s._ each. Hence we find that the sum spent yearly in the streets upon the purchase of bed-ticking, &c., amounts to 312 0 0

_Street-Sellers of Second-hand Glass and Crockery._

Calculating that each of the six dealers takes 12_s._ weekly, with a profit of 6_s._ or 7_s._, we find there is annually expended in this department of street-commerce 187 4 0

_Street-Sellers of Second-hand Miscellaneous Articles._

From the best data I have been able to obtain, it appears that there are five street-sellers engaged in the sale of these second-hand articles of amusement, and the receipts of the whole are 10_l._ weekly, about half being profit, thus giving a yearly expenditure of 520 0 0

Street-Sellers and Duffers of Second-hand Music.

A broker who was engaged in this traffic estimated--and an intelligent street-seller agreed in the computation--that, take the year through, at least 25 individuals are regularly, but few of them fully, occupied with this traffic, and that their weekly takings average 30_s._ each, or an aggregate yearly amount of 1950_l._ The weekly profits run from 10_s._ to 15_s._, and sometimes the well-known dealers clear 40_s._ or 50_s._ a week, while others do not take 5_s._ 1,950 0 0

Street-Sellers of Second-hand Weapons.

In this traffic it may be estimated, I am assured, that there are 20 men engaged, each taking, as an average, 1_l._ a week. In some weeks a man may take 5_l._; in the next month he may sell no weapons at all. From 30 to 50 per cent. is the usual rate of profit, and the yearly street outlay on these second-hand offensive or defensive weapons is 1,040 0 0

Street-Sellers of Second-hand Curiosities.

There are not now more than six men who carry on this trade apart from other commerce. Their average takings are 15_s._ weekly each man, about two-thirds being profit, or yearly 234 0 0

_Street-Sellers of Second-hand Telescopes and Pocket-Glasses._

There are only six men at present engaged in the sale of telescopes and pocket-glasses, and their weekly average takings are 30_s._ each, giving a yearly expenditure in the streets of 468 0 0

_Street-Sellers of other Second-hand Miscellaneous Articles._

If we reckon that there are 30 street-sellers carrying on a traffic in second-hand miscellaneous articles, and that each takes 10_s._ weekly, we find the annual outlay in the streets upon these articles amounts to 780 0 0

Street-Sellers of Men’s Second-hand Clothes.

The street-sale of men’s second-hand wearing apparel is carried on principally by the Irish and others. From the best information I can gather, there appear to be upwards of 1200 old clothes men buying left-off apparel in the metropolis, one-third of whom are Irish. There are, however, not more than 100 of these who sell in the streets the articles they collect; the average-takings of each of the sellers are about 20_s._ weekly, their trading being chiefly on the Saturday nights and Sunday mornings. Their profits are from 50 to 60 per cent. Estimating the number of sellers at 100, and their weekly takings at 20_s._ each, we have an annual expenditure of 5,200 0 0

Street-Sellers of Second-hand Boots and Shoes.

There are at present about 30 individuals engaged in the street-sale of second-hand boots and shoes of all kinds; some take as much as 30_s._ weekly, while others do not take more than half that amount; their profits being about 50 per cent. Reckoning that the weekly average takings are 20_s._ each, we have a yearly expenditure on second-hand boots and shoes of 1,560 0 0

Street-Sellers of Second-hand Hats.

Throughout the year there are not more than 15 men constantly “working” this branch of street-traffic. The average weekly gains of each are about 10_s._, and in order to clear that sum they must take 20_s._ Hence the gross gains of the class will be 390_l._ per annum, while the sum yearly expended in the streets upon second-hand hats will amount altogether to 780 0 0

Street-Sellers of Women’s Second-hand Apparel.

The number of persons engaged in the street-sale of women’s second-hand apparel is about 50, each of whom take, upon an average, 15_s._ per week; one-half of this is clear gain. Thus we find the annual outlay in the streets upon women’s second-hand apparel is no less than 1,950 0 0

Street-Sellers of Second-hand Bonnets.

There are at present 30 persons (nearly one-half of whom are milliners, and the others street-sellers) who sell second-hand straw and other bonnets; some of these are placed in an umbrella turned upside down, while others are spread upon a wrapper on the stones. The average takings of this class of street-sellers are about 12_s._ each per week, and their clear gains not more than one-half, thus giving a yearly expenditure of 936 0 0

Street-Sellers of Second-hand Furs.

During five months of the year there are as many as 8 or 12 persons who sell furs in the street-markets on Saturday nights, Sunday mornings, and Monday nights. The weekly average takings of each is about 12_s._, nearly three-fourths of which is clear profit. Reckoning that 10 individuals are engaged 20 weeks during the year, and that each of these takes weekly 12_s._, we find the sum annually expended in the streets on furs amounts to 120 0 0

Street-Sellers of Second-hand Articles in Smithfield-market.

I am informed, by those who are in a position to know, that there are sold on an average every year in Smithfield-market about 624 sets of harness, at 14_s._ per set; 1560 collars, at 2_s._ each; 686 pads, at 1_s._ each; 1560 saddles, at 5_s._ each; 936 bits, at 6_d._ each; 520 pair of wheels, at 10_s._ per pair; 624 pair of springs, at 8_s._ 4_d._ per pair; 832 pair of trestles, at 2_s._ 6_d._ per pair; 520 boards, at 4_s._ each; 1820 barrows, at 25_s._ each; 312 trucks, at 50_s._ each; 208 trays, at 1_s._ 3_d._ each; 1040 small carts, at 63_s._ each; 156 goat-carriages, at 20_s._ each; 520 shooting-galleries, at 14_s._ each; 312 guns for shooting-galleries, at 10_s._ each; 1040 drums for costers, at 3_s._ each; 2080 measures, at 3_d._ each; 2080 pair of large scales, at 5_s._ per pair; 2080 pair of hand-scales, at 5_d._ per pair; 30 roasted chestnut-apparatus, at 20_s._ each; 100 ginger-beer trucks, at 30_s._ each; 20 eel-kettles, at 5_s._ each; 100 potato-cans, at 17_s._ each; 10 pea-soup cans, at 5_s._ each; 40 elderwine vessels, at 8_s._ each; giving a yearly expenditure of 10,242 3 8 ----------------- TOTAL SUM OF MONEY ANNUALLY TAKEN BY THE STREET-SELLERS OF SECOND-HAND ARTICLES 33,461 1 4

STREET-SELLERS OF LIVE ANIMALS.

Street-Sellers of Dogs (Fancy Pets).

From the best data it appears that each hawker sells “four or five occasionally in one week in the summer, when trade’s brisk and days are long, and only two or three the next week, when trade may be flat, and during each week in winter, when there isn’t the same chance.” Calculating, then, that seven dogs are sold by each hawker in a fortnight, at an average price of 50_s._ each (many fetch 3_l._, 4_l._, and 5_l._), and supposing that but 20 men are trading in this line the year through, we find that no less a sum is yearly expended in this street-trade than 9,100 0 0

Street-Sellers of Sporting Dogs.

The amount “turned over” in the trade in sporting dogs yearly, in London, is computed by the best informed at about 12,000 0 0

_Street-Sellers and Duffers of Live Birds. (English)._

There are in the metropolis 200 street-sellers of English birds, who may be said to sell among them 7000 linnets, at 3_d._ each; 3000 bullfinches, at 2_s._ 6_d._ each; 400 piping bullfinches, at 63_s._ each; 7000 goldfinches, at 9_d._ each; 1500 chaffinches, at 2_s._ 6_d._ each; 700 greenfinches, at 3_d._ each; 6000 larks, at 1_s._ each; 200 nightingales, at 1_s._ each; 600 redbreasts, at 1_s._ each; 3500 thrushes and thrustles, at 2_s._ 6_d._ each; 1400 blackbirds, at 2_s._ 6_d._ each; 1000 canaries, at 1_s._ each; 10,000 sparrows, at 1_d._ each; 1500 starlings, at 1_s._ 6_d._ each; 500 magpies and jackdaws, at 9_d._ each; 300 redpoles, at 9_d._ each; 150 blackcaps, at 4_d._ each; 2000 “duffed” birds, at 2_s._ 6_d._ each. Thus making the sum annually expended in the purchase of birds in the streets, amount to 3,624 12 2

Street-Sellers of Parrots, &c.

The number of individuals at present hawking parrots and other foreign birds in the streets is 10, who sell among them during the year about 500 birds. Reckoning each bird to sell at 1_l._, we find the annual outlay upon parrots bought in the streets to be 500_l._; adding to this the sale of 110 Java sparrows and St. Helena birds, as Wax-bills and Red-beaks at 1_s._ 6_d._ each, we have for the sum yearly expended in the streets on the sale of foreign birds 508 5 0

Street-Sellers of Birds’-Nests.

There are at present only three persons hawking birds’-nests, &c., in the streets during the season, which lasts from May to August; these street-sellers sell among them 400 nests, at 2-1/2_d._ each; 144 snakes, at 1_s._ 6_d._ each; 4 hedgehogs, at 1_s._ each; and about 2_s._’s worth of snails. This makes the weekly income of each amount to about 8_s._ 6_d._ during a period of 12 weeks in the summer, and the sum annually expended on these articles to come to 15 6 0

Street-Sellers of Squirrels.

For five months of the year there are 20 men selling squirrels in the streets, at from 20 to 50 per cent. profit, and averaging a weekly sale of six each. The average price is from 2_s._ to 2_s._ 6_d._ Thus 2400 squirrels are vended yearly in the streets, at a cost to the public of 240 0 0

Street-Sellers of Leverets, Wild Rabbits, &c.

During the year there are about six individuals exposing for sale in the streets young hares and wild rabbits. These persons sell among them 300 leverets, at 1_s._ 6_d._ each; and 400 young wild-rabbits, at 4_d._ each, giving a yearly outlay of 29 3 4

Street-Sellers of Gold and Silver Fish.

If we calculate, in order to allow for the cessation of the trade during the winter, and often in the summer when costermongering is at its best, that but 35 gold-fish sellers hawk in the streets and that for but half a year, each selling six dozen weekly, at 12_s._ the dozen, we find 65,520 fish sold, at an outlay of 3,276 0 0

Street-Sellers of Tortoises.

Estimating the number of individuals selling tortoises to be 20, and the number of tortoises sold to be 10,000, at an average price of 8_d._ each, we find there is expended yearly upon these creatures upwards of 333 6 8

Street-Sellers of Snails, Frogs, &c.

There are 14 snail gatherers, and they, on an average, gather six dozen quarts each in a year, which supplies a total of 12,096 quarts of snails. The labourers in the gardens, I am informed, gather somewhat more than an equal quantity, the greater part being sold to the bird-shops; so that altogether the supply of snails for the caged thrushes and blackbirds of London is about two millions and a half. Computing them at 24,000 quarts, and at 2_d._ a quart, the annual outlay is 200_l._ Besides snails, there are collected annually 500 frogs and 18 toads, at 1_d._ each, giving a yearly expenditure of 202 3 2

TOTAL, OR GROSS “TAKINGS,” OF THE STREET-SELLERS OF LIVE ANIMALS 23,868 16 4

INCOME, OR “TAKINGS,” OF THE STREET-SELLERS OF MINERAL PRODUCTIONS AND NATURAL CURIOSITIES.

Street-Sellers of Coals.

The number of individuals engaged in the street-sale of coals is 210; these distribute 2940 tons of coals weekly, giving an annual trade of 152,880 tons, at 1_l._ per ton, and consequently a yearly expenditure by the poor of 152,880 0 0

Street-Sellers of Coke.

The number of individuals engaged in the street-sale of coke is 1500; and the total quantity of coke sold annually in the streets is computed at about 1,400,000 chaldrons. These are purchased at the gas factories at an average price of 8_s._ per chaldron. Reckoning that this is sold at 4_s._ per chaldron for profit, we find that the total gains of the whole class amount to 280,000_l._ per annum, and their gross annual takings to 840,000 0 0

Street-Sellers of Tan-Turf.

The number of tan-turf sellers in the metropolis is estimated at 14; each of these dispose of, upon an average, 20,000 per week, during the year; selling them at 1_s._ per hundred, and realizing a profit of 4-1/2_d._ for each hundred. This makes the annual outlay in the street-sale of the above article amount to 7,280 0 0

Street-Sellers of Salt.

There are at present 150 individuals hawking salt in the several streets of London; each of these pay at the rate of 2_s._ per cwt. for the salt, and retail it at 3 lbs. for 1_d._, which leaves 1_s._ 1_d._ profit on every cwt. One day with another, wet and dry, each of the street-sellers disposes of about 2-1/2 cwt., or 18 tons 15 cwt. per day for all hands, and this, deducting Sundays, makes 5868 tons 15 cwt. in the course of the year. The profit of 1_s._ 1_d._ per cwt. amounts to a yearly aggregate profit of 6357_l._ 16_s._ 3_d._, or about 42_l._ per annum for each person in the trade; while the sum annually expended upon this article in the streets amounts to 18,095 6 3

Street-Sellers of Sand.

Calculating the sale at a load of sand per day, for each horse and cart, at 21_s._ per load, we find the sum annually expended in house-sand to be 6573_l._; adding to this the sum of 234_l._ spent yearly in bird-sand, the total street-expenditure is 6,807 0 0

Street-Sellers of Shells.

There are about 50 individuals disposing of shells at different periods of the year. These sell among them 1,000,000 at 1_d._ each, giving an annual expenditure of 4,166 13 4 --------------------- TOTAL, OR GROSS TAKINGS, OF THE STREET-SELLERS OF MINERAL PRODUCTIONS AND NATURAL CURIOSITIES £1,029,228 19 7 ---------------------

River-Sellers of Purl.

There are at present 35 men following the trade of purl-selling on the river Thames to colliers. The weekly profits of this class amount to 117_l._ 5_s._ per week, and yearly to 6097_l._, while their annual takings is 8,190 0 0

Now, adding together the above and the other foregone results, we arrive at the following estimate as to the amount of money annually expended on the several articles purchased in the streets of the metropolis.

“Wet” fish £1,177,200 £ Dry fish 127,000 Shell fish 156,600 ---------- Fish of all kinds £1,460,800

Vegetables £292,400 Green fruit 332,200 Dry fruit 1,000 ---------- Fruit and Vegetables 625,600

Game, poultry, rabbits, &c. 80,000 Flowers, roots, &c. 14,800 Water-cresses 13,900 Chickweed, gru’nsel, and turf for birds 14,570 Eatables and drinkables 203,100 Stationery, literature, and fine arts 33,400 Manufactured articles 188,200 Second-hand articles 29,900 Live animals (_including dogs, birds, and gold fish_) 29,300 Mineral productions (_as coals, coke, salt, sand, &c._) 1,022,700 ---------- TOTAL SUM EXPENDED UPON THE VARIOUS ARTICLES VENDED BY THE STREET-SELLERS £3,716,270

Hence it appears that the street-sellers, of all ages, in the metropolis are about forty thousand in number--their stock-in-trade is worth about sixty thousand pounds--and their gross annual takings or receipts amount to no less than three millions and a half sterling.

OF THE STREET-BUYERS.

The persons who traverse the streets, or call periodically at certain places to purchase articles which are usually sold at the door or within the house, are--according to the division I laid down in the first number of this work--STREET-BUYERS. The largest, and, in every respect, the most remarkable body of these traders, are the buyers of old clothes, and of them I shall speak separately, devoting at the same time some space to the STREET-JEWS. It will also be necessary to give a brief account of the Jews generally, for they are still a peculiar race, and street and shop-trading among them are in many respects closely blended.

The principal things bought by the itinerant purchasers consist of waste-paper, hare and rabbit skins, old umbrellas and parasols, bottles and glass, broken metal, rags, dripping, grease, bones, tea-leaves, and old clothes.

With the exception of the buyers of waste-paper, among whom are many active, energetic, and intelligent men, the street-buyers are of the lower sort, both as to means and intelligence. The only further exception, perhaps, which I need notice here is, that among some umbrella-buyers, there is considerable smartness, and sometimes, in the repair or renewal of the ribs, &c., a slight degree of skill. The other street-purchasers--such as the hare-skin and old metal and rag buyers, are often old and infirm people of both sexes, of whom--perhaps by reason of their infirmities--not a few have been in the trade from their childhood, and are as well known by sight in their respective rounds, as was the “long-remembered beggar” in former times.

It is usually the lot of a poor person who has been driven to the streets, or has adopted such a life when an adult, to sell trifling things--such as are light to carry and require a small outlay--in advanced age. Old men and women totter about offering lucifer-matches, boot and stay-laces, penny memorandum books, and such like. But the elder portion of the street-folk I have now to speak of do not sell, but buy. The street-seller commends his wares, their cheapness, and excellence. The same sort of man, when a buyer, depreciates everything offered to him, in order to ensure a cheaper bargain, while many of the things thus obtained find their way into street-sale, and are then as much commended for cheapness and goodness, as if they were the stock-in-trade of an acute slop advertisement-monger, and this is done sometimes by the very man who, when a buyer, condemned them as utterly valueless. But this is common to all trades.

OF THE STREET-BUYERS OF RAGS, BROKEN METAL, BOTTLES, GLASS, AND BONES.

I class all these articles under one head, for, on inquiry, I find no individual supporting himself by the trading in any one of them. I shall, therefore, describe the buyers of rags, broken metal, bottles, glass, and bones, as a body of street-traders, but take the articles in which they traffic seriatim, pointing out in what degree they are, or have been, wholly or partially, the staple of several distinct callings.

The traders in these things are not unprosperous men. The poor creatures who may be seen picking up rags in the street are “street-finders,” and not buyers. It is the same with the poor old men who may be seen bending under an unsavoury sack of bones. The bones have been found, or have been given for charity, and are not purchased. One feeble old man whom I met with, his eyes fixed on the middle of the carriage-way in the Old St. Pancras-road, and with whom I had some conversation, told me that the best friend he had in the world was a gentleman who lived in a large house near the Regent’s-park, and gave him the bones which his dogs had done with! “If I can only see hisself, sir,” said the old man, “he’s sure to give me any coppers he has in his coat-pocket, and that’s a very great thing to a poor man like me. O, yes, I’ll buy bones, if I have any ha’pence, rather than go without them; but I pick them up, or have them given to me mostly.”

The street-buyers, who are only buyers, have barrows, sometimes even carts with donkeys, and, as they themselves describe it, they “buy everything.” These men are little seen in London, for they “work” the more secluded courts, streets, and alleys, when in town; but their most frequented rounds are the poorer parts of the populous suburbs. There are many in Croydon, Woolwich, Greenwich, and Deptford. “It’s no use,” a man who had been in the trade said to me, “such as us calling at fine houses to know if they’ve any old keys to sell! No, we trades with the poor.” Often, however, they deal with the servants of the wealthy; and their usual mode of business in such cases is to leave a bill at the house a few hours previous to their visit. This document has frequently the royal arms at the head of it, and asserts that the “firm” has been established since the year ----, which is seldom less than half a century. The hand-bill usually consists of a short preface as to the increased demand for rags on the part of the paper-makers, and this is followed by a liberal offer to give the very best prices for any old linen, or old metal, bottles, rope, stair-rods, locks, keys, dripping, carpeting, &c., “in fact, no rubbish or lumber, however worthless, will be refused;” and generally concludes with a request that this “bill” may be shown to the mistress of the house and preserved, as it will be called for in a couple of hours.

The papers are delivered by one of the “firm,” who marks on the door a sign indicative of the houses at which the bill has been taken in, and the probable reception there of the gentleman who is to follow him. The road taken is also pointed by marks before explained, see vol. i. pp. 218 and 247. These men are residents in all quarters within 20 miles of London, being most numerous in the places at no great distance from the Thames. They work their way from their suburban residences to London, which, of course, is the mart, or “exchange,” for their wares. The reason why the suburbs are preferred is that in those parts the possessors of such things as broken metal, &c., cannot so readily resort to a marine-store dealer’s as they can in town. I am informed, however, that the shops of the marine-store men are on the increase in the more densely-peopled suburbs; still the dwellings of the poor are often widely scattered in those parts, and few will go a mile to sell any old thing. They wait in preference, unless very needy, for the visit of the street-buyer.

A good many years ago--perhaps until 30 years back--rags, and especially white and good linen rags, were among the things most zealously inquired for by street-buyers, and then 3_d._ a pound was a price readily paid. Subsequently the paper-manufacturers brought to great and economical perfection the process of boiling rags in lye and bleaching them with chlorine, so that colour became less a desideratum. A few years after the peace of 1815, moreover, the foreign trade in rags increased rapidly. At the present time, about 1200 tons of woollen rags, and upwards of 10,000 tons of linen rags, are imported yearly. These 10,000 tons give us but a vague notion of the real amount. I may therefore mention that, when reduced to a more definite quantity, they show a total of no less than twenty-two millions four hundred thousand pounds. The woollen rags are imported the most largely from Hamburg and Bremen, the price being from 5_l._ to 17_l._ the ton. Linen rags, which average nearly 20_l._ the ton, are imported from the same places, and from several Italian ports, more especially those in Sicily. Among these ports are Palermo, Messina, Ancona, Leghorn, and Trieste (the Trieste rags being gathered in Hungary). The value of the rags annually brought to this country is no less than 200,000_l._ What the native rags may be worth, there are no facts on which to ground an estimate; but supposing each person of the 20,000,000 in Great Britain to produce one pound of rags annually, then the rags of this country may be valued at very nearly the same price as the foreign ones, so that the gross value of the rags of Great Britain imported and produced at home, would, in such a case, amount to 400,000_l._ From France, Belgium, Holland, Spain, and other continental kingdoms, the exportation of rags is prohibited, nor can so bulky and low-priced a commodity be smuggled to advantage.

Of this large sum of rags, which is independent of what is collected in the United Kingdom, the Americans are purchasers on an extensive scale. The wear of cotton is almost unknown in many parts of Italy, Germany, and Hungary; and although the linen in use is coarse and, compared to the Irish, Scotch, or English, rudely manufactured, the foreign rags are generally linen, and therefore are preferred at the paper mills. The street-buyers in this country, however, make less distinction than ever, as regards price, between linen and cotton rags.

The linen rag-buying is still prosecuted extensively by itinerant “gatherers” in the country, and in the further neighbourhoods of London, but the collection is not to the extent it was formerly. The price is lower, and, owing to the foreign trade, the demand is less urgent; so common, too, is now the wear of cotton, and so much smaller that of linen, that many people will not sell linen rags, but reserve them for use in case of cuts and wounds, or for giving to their poor neighbours on any such emergency. This was done doubtlessly to as great, or to a greater extent, in the old times, but linen rags were more plentiful then, for cotton shirting was not woven to the perfection seen at present, and many good country housewives spun their own linen sheetings and shirtings.

A street-buyer of the class I have described, upon presenting himself at any house, offers to buy rags, broken metal, or glass, and for rags especially there is often a serious bargaining, and sometimes, I was told by an itinerant street-seller, who had been an ear-witness, a little joking not of the most delicate kind. For coloured rags these men give 1/2_d._ a pound, or 1_d._ for three pounds; for inferior white rags 1/2_d._ a pound, and up to 1-1/2_d._; for the best, 2_d._ the pound. It is common, however, and even more common, I am assured, among masters of the old rag and bottle shops, than among street-buyers, to announce 2_d._ or 3_d._, or even as much as 6_d._, for the best rags, but, somehow or other, the rags taken for sale to those buyers never are of the best. To offer 6_d._ a pound for rags is ridiculous, but such an offer may be seen at some rag-shops, the figure ~6~, perhaps, crowning a painting of a large plum-pudding, as a representation of what may be a Christmas result, merely from the thrifty preservation of rags, grease, and dripping. Some of the street-buyers, when working the suburbs or the country, attach a similar “illustration” to their barrows or carts. I saw the winter placard of one of these men, which he was reserving for a country excursion as far as Rochester, “when the plum-pudding time was a-coming.” In this pictorial advertisement a man and woman, very florid and full-faced, were on the point of enjoying a huge plum-pudding, the man flourishing a large knife, and looking very hospitable. On a scroll which issued from his mouth were the words: “From our rags! The best prices given by ---- ----, of London.” The woman in like manner exclaimed: “From dripping and house fat! The best prices given by ---- ----, of London.”

This man told me that at some times, both in town and country, he did not buy a pound of rags in a week. He had heard the old hands in the trade say, that 20 or 30 years back they could “gather” (the word generally used for buying) twice and three times as many rags as at present. My informant attributed this change to two causes, depending more upon what he had heard from experienced street-buyers than upon his own knowledge. At one time it was common for a mistress to allow her maid-servant to “keep a rag-bag,” in which all refuse linen, &c., was collected for sale for the servant’s behoof; a privilege now rarely accorded. The other cause was that working-people’s wives had less money at their command now than they had formerly, so that instead of gathering a good heap for the man who called on them periodically, they ran to a marine store-shop and sold them by one, two, and three pennyworths at a time. This related to all the things in the street-buyer’s trade, as well as to rags.

“I’ve known this trade ten years or so,” said my informant, “I was a costermonger before that, and I work coster-work now in the summer, and buy things in the winter. Before Christmas is the best time for second-hand trade. When I set out on a country round--and I’ve gone as far as Guildford and Maidstone, and St. Alban’s--I lays in as great a stock of glass and crocks as I can raise money for, or as my donkey or pony--I’ve had both, but I’m working a ass now--can drag without distressing him. I swops my crocks for anythink in the second-hand way, and when I’ve got through them I buys outright, and so works my way back to London. I bring back what I’ve bought in the crates and hampers I’ve had to pack the crocks in. The first year as I started I got hold of a few very tidy rags, coloured things mostly. The Jew I sold ’em to when I got home again gave me more than I expected. O, lord no, not more than I asked! He told me, too, that he’d buy any more I might have, as they was wanted at some town not very far off, where there was a call for them for patching quilts. I haven’t heard of a call for any that way since. I get less and less rags every year, I think. Well, I can’t say what I got last year; perhaps about two stone. No, none of them was woollen. They’re things as people’s seldom satisfied with the price for, is rags. I’ve bought muslin window curtains or frocks as was worn, and good for nothink but rags, but there always seems such a lot, and they weighs so light and comes to so little, that there’s sure to be grumbling. I’ve sometimes bought a lot of old clothes, by the lump, or I’ve swopped crocks for them, and among them there’s frequently been things as the Jew in Petticoat-lane, what I sells them to, has put o’ one side as rags. If I’d offered to give rag prices, them as I got ’em of would have been offended, and have thought I wanted to cheat. When you get a lot at one go, and ’specially if it’s for crocks, you must make the best of them. This for that, and t’other for t’other. I stay at the beer-shops and little inns in the country. Some of the landlords looks very shy at one, if you’re a stranger, acause, if the police detectives is after anythink, they go as hawkers, or barrowmen, or somethink that way.” [This statement as to the police is correct; but the man did not know how it came to his knowledge; he had “heard of it,” he believed.] “I’ve very seldom slept in a common lodging-house. I’d rather sleep on my barrow.” [I have before had occasion to remark the aversion of the costermonger class to sleep in low lodging-houses. These men, almost always, and from the necessities of their calling, have rooms of their own in London; so that, I presume, they hate to sleep in public, as the accommodation for repose in many a lodging-house may very well be called. At any rate the costermongers, of all classes of street-sellers, when on their country excursions, resort the least to the lodging-houses.] “The last round I had in the country, as far as Reading and Pangbourne, I was away about five weeks, I think, and came back a better man by a pound; that was all. I mean I had 30 shillings’ worth of things to start with, and when I’d got back, and turned my rags, and old metal, and things into money, I had 50_s._ To be sure Jenny (the ass) and me lived well all the time, and I bought a pair of half-boots and a pair of stockings at Reading, so it weren’t so bad. Yes, sir, there’s nothing I likes better than a turn into the country. It does one’s health good, if it don’t turn out so well for profits as it might.”

My informant, the rag-dealer, belonged to the best order of costermongers; one proof of this was in the evident care which he had bestowed on Jenny, his donkey. There were no loose hairs on her hide, and her harness was clean and whole, and I observed after a pause to transact business on his round, that the animal held her head towards her master to be scratched, and was petted with a mouthful of green grass and clover, which the costermonger had in a corner of his vehicle.

Tailor’s cuttings, which consist of cloth, satin, lining materials, fustian, waistcoatings, silk, &c., are among the things which the street-buyers are the most anxious to become possessed of on a country round; for, as will be easily understood by those who have read the accounts before given of the Old Clothes Exchange, and of Petticoat and Rosemary lanes, they are available for many purposes in London.

Dressmaker’s cuttings are also a portion of the street-buyer’s country traffic, but to no great extent, and hardly ever, I am told, unless the street-buyer, which is not often the case, be accompanied on his round by his wife. In town, tailor’s cuttings are usually sold to the piece-brokers, who call or send men round to the shops or workshops for the purpose of buying them, and it is the same with the dressmaker’s cuttings.

Old metal, or broken metal, for I heard one appellation used as frequently as the other, is bought by the same description of traders. This trade, however, is prosecuted in town by the street-buyers more largely than in the country, and so differs from the rag business. The carriage of old iron bolts and bars is exceedingly cumbersome; nor can metal be packed or stowed away like old clothes or rags. This makes the street-buyer indifferent as to the collecting of what I heard one of them call “country iron.” By “metal” the street-folk often mean copper (most especially), brass, or pewter, in contradistinction to the cheaper substances of iron or lead. In the country they are most anxious to buy “metal;” whereas, in town, they as readily purchase “iron.” When the street-buyers give merely the worth of any metal by weight to be disposed of, in order to be re-melted, or re-wrought in some manner, by the manufacturers, the following are the average prices:--Copper, 6_d._ per lb.; pewter, 5_d._; brass, 5_d._; iron, 6 lbs. for 1_d._, and 8 lbs. for 2_d._ (a smaller quantity than 6 lbs. is seldom bought); and 1_d._ and 1-1/4_d._ per lb. for lead. Old zinc is not a metal which “comes in the way” of the street-buyer, nor--as one of them told me with a laugh--old silver. Tin is never bought by weight in the streets.

It must be understood that the prices I have mentioned are those given for old or broken metal, valueless unless for re-working. When an old metal article is still available, or may be easily made available, for the use for which it was designed, the street-purchase is by “the piece,” rather than the weight.

The broken pans, scuttles, kettles, &c., concerning one of the uses of which I have quoted Mr. Babbage, in page 6 of the present volume, as to the conversion of these worn-out vessels into the light and japanned edgings, or clasps, called “clamps,” or “clips,” by the trunk-makers, and used to protect or strengthen the corners of boxes and packing-cases, are purchased sometimes by the street-buyers, but fall more properly under the head of what constitutes a portion of the stock-in-trade of the street-finder. They are not bought by weight, but so much for the pan, perhaps so much along with other things; a halfpenny, a penny, or occasionally two-pence, and often only a farthing, or three pans for a penny. The uses for these things which the street-buyers have more especially in view, are not those mentioned by Mr. Babbage (the trunk clamps), but the conversion of them into the “iron shovels,” or strong dust-pans sold in the streets. One street artisan supports himself and his family by the making of dust-pans from such grimy old vessels.

As in the result of my inquiry among the street-sellers of old metal, I am of opinion that the street-buyers also are not generally mixed up with the receipt of stolen goods. That they may be so to some extent is probable enough; in the same proportion, perhaps, as highly respectable tradesmen have been known to buy the goods of fraudulent bankrupts, and others. The street-buyers are low itinerants, seen regularly by the police and easy to be traced, and therefore, for one reason, cautious. In one of my inquiries among the young thieves and pickpockets in the low lodging-houses, I heard frequent accounts of their selling the metal goods they stole, to “fences,” and in one particular instance, to the mistress of a lodging-house, who had conveniences for the melting of pewter pots (called “cats and kittens” by the young thieves, according to the size of the vessels), but I never heard them speak of any connection, or indeed any transactions, with street-folk.

Among the things purchased in great quantities by the street-buyers of old metal are keys. The keys so bought are of every size, are generally very rusty, and present every form of manufacture, from the simplest to the most complex wards. On my inquiring how such a number of keys without locks came to be offered for street-sale, I was informed that there were often duplicate or triplicate keys to one lock, and that in sales of household furniture, for instance, there were often numbers of odd keys found about the premises and sold “in a lump;” that locks were often spoiled and unsaleable, wearing out long before the keys. Twopence a dozen is an usual price for a dozen “mixed keys,” to a street-buyer. Bolts are also freely bought by the street-people, as are holdfasts, bed-keys, and screws, “and everything,” I was told, “which some one or other among the poor is always a-wanting.”

A little old man, who had been many years a street-buyer, gave me an account of his purchases of bottles and glass. This man had been a soldier in his youth; had known, as he said, “many ups and downs;” and occasionally wheels a barrow, somewhat larger and shallower than those used by masons, from which he vends iron and tin wares, such as cheap gridirons, stands for hand-irons, dust-pans, dripping trays, &c. As he sold these wares, he offered to buy, or swop for, any second-hand commodities. “As to the bottle and glass buying, sir,” he said, “it’s dead and buried in the streets, and in the country too. I’ve known the day when I’ve cleared 2_l._ in a week by buying old things in a country round. How long was that ago, do you say, sir? Why perhaps twenty years; yes, more than twenty. Now, I’d hardly pick up odd glass in the street.” [He called imperfect glass wares “odd glass.”] “O, I don’t know what’s brought about such a change, but everything changes. I can’t say anything about the duty on glass. No, I never paid any duty on my glass; it ain’t likely. I buy glass still, certainly I do, but I think if I depended on it I should be wishing myself in the East Injes again, rather than such a poor consarn of a business--d----n me if I shouldn’t. The last glass bargain I made about two months back, down Limehouse-way, and about the Commercial-road, I cleared 7_d._ by; and then I had to wheel what I bought--it was chiefly bottles--about five mile. It’s a trade would starve a cat, the buying of old glass. I never bought glass by weight, but I’ve heard of some giving a halfpenny and a penny a pound. I always bought by the piece: from a halfpenny to a shilling (but that’s long since) for a bottle; and farthings and halfpennies, and higher and sometimes lower, for wine and other glasses as was chipped or cracked, or damaged, for they could be sold in them days. People’s got proud now, I fancy that’s one thing, and must have everything slap. O, I do middling: I live by one thing or other, and when I die there’ll just be enough to bury the old man.” [This is the first street-trader I have met with who made such a statement as to having provided for his interment, though I have heard these men occasionally express repugnance at the thoughts of being buried by the parish.] “I have a daughter, that’s all my family now; she does well as a laundress, and is a real good sort; I have my dinner with her every Sunday. She’s a widow without any young ones. I often go to church, both with my daughter and by myself, on Sunday evenings. It does one good. I’m fond of the music and singing too. The sermon I can very seldom make anything of, as I can’t hear well if any one’s a good way off me when he’s saying anythink. I buy a little old metal sometimes, but it’s coming to be all up with street glass-people; everybody seems to run with their things to the rag-and-bottle-shops.”

The same body of traders buy also old sacking, carpeting, and moreen bed-curtains and window-hangings; but the trade in them is sufficiently described in my account of the buying of rags, for it is carried on in the same way, so much per pound (1_d._ or 1-1/2_d._ or 2_d._), or so much for the lot.

Of Bones I have already spoken. They are bought by any street-collector with a cart, on his round in town, at a halfpenny a pound, or three pounds for a penny; but it is a trade, on account of the awkwardness of carriage, little cared for by the regular street-buyers. Men, connected with some bone-grinding-mill, go round with a horse and cart to the knackers and butchers to collect bones; but this is a portion, not of street, but of the mill-owner’s, business. These bones are ground for manure, which is extensively used by the agriculturists, having been first introduced in Yorkshire and Lincolnshire about 30 years ago. The importation of bones is now very great; more than three times as much as it was 20 years back. The value of the foreign bones imported is estimated at upwards of 300,000_l._ yearly. They are brought from South America (along with hides), from Germany, Holland, and Belgium.

The men who most care to collect bones in the streets of London are old and infirm, and they barter toys for them with poor children; for those children sometimes gather bones in the streets and put them on one side, or get them from dustholes, for the sake of exchanging them for a plaything; or, indeed, for selling them to any shopkeeper, and many of the rag-and-bottle-tradesmen buy bones. The toys most used for this barter are paper “wind-mills.” These toy-barterers, when they have a few pence, will buy bones of children or any others, if they cannot become possessed of them otherwise; but the carriage of the bones is a great obstacle to much being done in this business.

In the regular way of street-buying, such as I have described it, there are about 100 men in London and the suburbs. Some buy only during a portion of the year, and none perhaps (except in the way of barter) the year round. They are chiefly of the costermonger class, some of the street-buyers however, have been carmen’s servants, or connected with trades in which they had the care of a horse and cart, and so became habituated to a street-life.

There are still many other ways in which the commerce in refuse and the second-hand street-trade is supplied. As the windmill-seller for bones, so will the puppet-show man for old bottles or broken table-spoons, or almost any old trifle, allow children to regale their eyes on the beauties of his exhibition.

The trade expenditure of the street-buyers it is not easy to estimate. Their calling is so mixed with selling and bartering, that very probably not one among them can tell what he expends in buying, as a separate branch of his business. If 100 men expend 15_s._ each weekly, in the purchase of rags, old metal, &c., and if this trade be prosecuted for 30 weeks of the year, we find 2250_l._ so expended. The profits of the buyers range from 20 to 100 per cent.

OF THE “RAG-AND-BOTTLE,” AND THE “MARINE-STORE,” SHOPS.

The principal purchasers of any refuse or worn-out articles are the proprietors of the rag-and-bottle-shops. Some of these men make a good deal of money, and not unfrequently unite with the business the letting out of vans for the conveyance of furniture, or for pleasure excursions, to such places as Hampton Court. The stench in these shops is positively sickening. Here in a small apartment may be a pile of rags, a sack-full of bones, the many varieties of grease and “kitchen-stuff,” corrupting an atmosphere which, even without such accompaniments, would be too close. The windows are often crowded with bottles, which exclude the light; while the floor and shelves are thick with grease and dirt. The inmates seem unconscious of this foulness,--and one comparatively wealthy man, who showed me his horses, the stable being like a drawing-room compared to his shop, in speaking of the many deaths among his children, could not conjecture to what cause it could be owing. This indifference to dirt and stench is the more remarkable, as many of the shopkeepers have been gentlemen’s servants, and were therefore once accustomed to cleanliness and order. The door-posts and windows of the rag-and-bottle-shops are often closely placarded, and the front of the house is sometimes one glaring colour, blue or red; so that the place may be at once recognised, even by the illiterate, as the “red house,” or the “blue house.” If these men are not exactly street-buyers, they are street-billers, continually distributing hand-bills, but more especially before Christmas. The more aristocratic, however, now send round cards, and to the following purport:--

No. -- No. --

THE ---- HOUSE IS ----’S RAG, BOTTLE, AND KITCHEN STUFF WAREHOUSE, ---- STREET, ---- TOWN, Where you can obtain Gold and Silver to any amount.

ESTABLISHED ----.

THE HIGHEST PRICE GIVEN For all the undermentioned articles, viz:--

Wax and Sperm Pieces Kitchen Stuff, &c. Wine & Beer Bottles Eau de Cologne, Soda Water Doctors’ Bottles, &c. White Linen Rags Bones, Phials, & Broken Flint Glass Old Copper, Brass, Pewter, &c. Lead, Iron, Zinc, Steel, &c., &c. Old Horse Hair, Mattresses, &c. Old Books, Waste Paper, &c. All kinds of Coloured Rags

The utmost value given for all kinds of Wearing Apparel.

Furniture and Lumber of every description bought, and full value given at his Miscellaneous Warehouse.

Articles sent for.

Some content themselves with sending hand-bills to the houses in their neighbourhood, which many of the cheap printers keep in type, so that an alteration in the name and address is all which is necessary for any customer.

* * * * *

I heard that suspicions were entertained that it was to some of these traders that the facilities with which servants could dispose of their pilferings might be attributed, and that a stray silver spoon might enhance the weight and price of kitchen-stuff. It is not pertaining to my present subject to enter into the consideration of such a matter; and I might not have alluded to it, had not I found the regular street-buyers fond of expressing an opinion of the indifferent honesty of this body of traders; but my readers may have remarked how readily the street-people have, on several occasions, justified (as they seem to think) their own delinquencies by quoting what they declared were as great and as frequent delinquencies on the part of shopkeepers: “I know very well,” said an intelligent street-seller on one occasion, “that two wrongs can never make a right; but tricks that shopkeepers practise to grow rich upon we must practise, just as they do, to live at all. As long as they give short weight and short measure, the streets can’t help doing the same.”

The rag-and-bottle and the marine-store shops are in many instances but different names for the same description of business. The chief distinction appears to be this: the marine-store shopkeepers (proper) do not meddle with what is a very principal object of traffic with the rag-and-bottle man, the purchase of dripping, as well as of every kind of refuse in the way of fat or grease. The marine-store man, too, is more miscellaneous in his wares than his contemporary of the rag-and-bottle-store, as the former will purchase any of the smaller articles of household furniture, old tea-caddies, knife-boxes, fire-irons, books, pictures, draughts and backgammon boards, bird-cages, Dutch clocks, cups and saucers, tools and brushes. The-rag-and-bottle tradesman will readily purchase any of these things to be disposed of as old metal or waste-paper, but his brother tradesman buys them to be re-sold and re-used for the purposes for which they were originally manufactured. When furniture, however, is the staple of one of these second-hand storehouses, the proprietor is a furniture-broker, and not a marine-store dealer. If, again, the dealer in these stores confine his business to the purchase of old metals, for instance, he is classed as an old metal dealer, collecting it or buying it of collectors, for sale to iron-founders, coppersmiths, brass-founders, and plumbers. In perhaps the majority of instances there is little or no distinction between the establishments I have spoken of. The dolly business is common to both, but most common to the marine-store dealer, and of it I shall speak afterwards.

These shops are exceedingly numerous. Perhaps in the poorer and smaller streets they are more numerous even than the chandlers’ or the beer-sellers’ places. At the corner of a small street, both in town and the nearer suburbs, will frequently be found the chandler’s shop, for the sale of small quantities of cheese, bacon, groceries, &c., to the poor. Lower down may be seen the beer-seller’s; and in the same street there is certain to be one rag-and-bottle or marine-store shop, very often two, and not unfrequently another in some adjacent court.

I was referred to the owner of a marine-store shop, as to a respectable man, keeping a store of the best class. Here the counter, or table, or whatever it is to be called, for it was somewhat nondescript, by an ingenious contrivance could be pushed out into the street, so that in bad weather the goods which were at other times exposed in the street could be drawn inside without trouble. The glass frames of the window were removable, and were placed on one side in the shop, for in the summer an open casement seemed to be preferred. This is one of the remaining old trade customs still seen in London; for previously to the great fire in 1666, and the subsequent rebuilding of the city, shops with open casements, and protected from the weather by overhanging eaves, or by a sloping wooden roof, were general.

The house I visited was an old one, and abounded in closets and recesses. The fire-place, which apparently had been large, was removed, and the space was occupied with a mass of old iron of every kind; all this was destined for the furnace of the iron-founder, wrought iron being preferred for several of the requirements of that trade. A chest or range of very old drawers, with defaced or worn-out labels--once a grocer’s or a chemist’s--was stuffed, in every drawer, with old horse-shoe nails (valuable for steel manufacturers), and horse and donkey shoes; brass knobs; glass stoppers; small bottles (among them a number of the cheap cast “hartshorn bottles”); broken pieces of brass and copper; small tools (such as shoemakers’ and harness-makers’ awls), punches, gimlets, plane-irons, hammer heads, &c.; odd dominoes, dice, and backgammon-men; lock escutcheons, keys, and the smaller sort of locks, especially padlocks; in fine, any small thing which could be stowed away in such a place.

In one corner of the shop had been thrown, the evening before, a mass of old iron, then just bought. It consisted of a number of screws of different lengths and substance; of broken bars and rails; of the odds and ends of the cogged wheels of machinery, broken up or worn out; of odd-looking spikes, and rings, and links; all heaped together and scarcely distinguishable. These things had all to be assorted; some to be sold for re-use in their then form; the others to be sold that they might be melted and cast into other forms. The floor was intricate with hampers of bottles; heaps of old boots and shoes; old desks and work-boxes; pictures (all modern) with and without frames; waste-paper, the most of it of quarto, and some larger sized, soiled or torn, and strung closely together in weights of from 2 to 7 lbs.; and a fire-proof safe, stuffed with old fringes, tassels, and other upholstery goods, worn and discoloured. The miscellaneous wares were carried out into the street, and ranged by the door-posts as well as in front of the house. In some small out-houses in the yard were piles of old iron and tin pans, and of the broken or separate parts of harness.

From the proprietor of this establishment I had the following account:--

“I’ve been in the business more than a dozen years. Before that, I was an auctioneer’s, and then a furniture broker’s, porter. I wasn’t brought up to any regular trade, but just to jobbing about, and a bad trade it is, as all trades is that ain’t regular employ for a man. I had some money when my father died--he kept a chandler’s shop--and I bought a marine.” [An elliptical form of speech among these traders.] “I gave 10_l._ for the stock, and 5_l._ for entrance and good-will, and agreed to pay what rents and rates was due. It was a smallish stock then, for the business had been neglected, but I have no reason to be sorry for my bargain, though it might have been better. There’s lots taken in about good-wills, but perhaps not so many in my way of business, because we’re rather ‘fly to a dodge.’ It’s a confined sort of life, but there’s no help for that. Why, as to my way of trade, you’d be surprised, what different sorts of people come to my shop. I don’t mean the regular hands; but the chance comers. I’ve had men dressed like gentlemen--and no doubt they was respectable when they was sober--bring two or three books, or a nice cigar case, or anythink that don’t show in their pockets, and say, when as drunk as blazes, ‘Give me what you can for this; I want it sold for a particular purpose.’ That particular purpose was more drink, I should say; and I’ve known the same men come back in less than a week, and buy what they’d sold me at a little extra, and be glad if I had it by me still. O, we sees a deal of things in this way of life. Yes, poor people run to such as me. I’ve known them come with such things as teapots, and old hair mattresses, and flock beds, and then I’m sure they’re hard up--reduced for a meal. I don’t like buying big things like mattresses, though I do purchase ’em sometimes. Some of these sellers are as keen as Jews at a bargain; others seem only anxious to get rid of the things and have hold of some bit of money anyhow. Yes, sir, I’ve known their hands tremble to receive the money, and mostly the women’s. They haven’t been used to it, I know, when that’s the case. Perhaps they comes to sell to me what the pawns won’t take in, and what they wouldn’t like to be seen selling to any of the men that goes about buying things in the street.

“Why, I’ve bought everythink; at sales by auction there’s often ‘lots’ made up of different things, and they goes for very little. I buy of people, too, that come to me, and of the regular hands that supply such shops as mine. I sell retail, and I sell to hawkers. I sell to anybody, for gentlemen’ll come into my shop to buy anythink that’s took their fancy in passing. Yes, I’ve bought old oil paintings. I’ve heard of some being bought by people in my way as have turned out stunners, and was sold for a hundred pounds or more, and cost, perhaps, half-a-crown or only a shilling. I never experienced such a thing myself. There’s a good deal of gammon about it. Well, it’s hardly possible to say anything about a scale of prices. I give 2_d._ for an old tin or metal teapot, or an old saucepan, and sometimes, two days after I’ve bought such a thing, I’ve sold it for 3_d._ to the man or woman I’ve bought it of. I’ll sell cheaper to them than to anybody else, because they come to me in two ways--both as sellers and buyers. For pictures I’ve given from 3_d._ to 1_s._ I fancy they’re among the last things some sorts of poor people, which is a bit fanciful, parts with. I’ve bought them of hawkers, but often I refuse them, as they’ve given more than I could get. Pictures requires a judge. Some brought to me was published by newspapers and them sort of people. Waste-paper I buy as it comes. I can’t read very much, and don’t understand about books. I take the backs off and weighs them, and gives 1_d._, and 1-1/2_d._, and 2_d._ a pound, and there’s an end. I sell them at about 1/4_d._ a pound profit, or sometimes less, to men as we calls ‘waste’ men. It’s a poor part of our business, but the books and paper takes up little room, and then it’s clean and can be stowed anywhere, and is a sure sale. Well, the people as sells ‘waste’ to me is not such as can read, I think; I don’t know what they is; perhaps they’re such as obtains possession of the books and what-not after the death of old folks, and gets them out of the way as quick as they can. I know nothink about what they are. Last week, a man in black--he didn’t seem rich--came into my shop and looked at some old books, and said ‘Have you any black lead?’ He didn’t speak plain, and I could hardly catch him. I said, ‘No, sir, I don’t sell black lead, but you’ll get it at No. 27,’ but he answered, ‘Not black lead, but black letter,’ speaking very pointed. I said, ‘No,’ and I haven’t a notion what he meant.

“Metal (copper) that I give 5_d._ or 5-1/2_d._ for, I can sell to the merchants from 6-1/2_d._ to 8_d._ the pound. It’s no great trade, for they’ll often throw things out of the lot and say they’re not metal. Sometimes, it would hardly be a farthing in a shilling, if it war’n’t for the draught in the scales. When we buys metal, we don’t notice the quarters of the pounds; all under a quarter goes for nothink. When we buys iron, all under half pounds counts nothink. So when we buys by the pound, and sells by the hundredweight, there’s a little help from this, which we calls the draught.

“Glass bottles of all qualities I buys at three for a halfpenny, and sometimes four, up to 2_d._ a-piece for ‘good stouts’ (bottled-porter vessels), but very seldom indeed 2_d._, unless it’s something very prime and big like the old quarts (quart bottles). I seldom meddles with decanters. It’s very few decanters as is offered to me, either little or big, and I’m shy of them when they are. There’s such a change in glass. Them as buys in the streets brings me next to nothing now to buy; they both brought and bought a lot ten year back and later. I never was in the street-trade in second-hand, but it’s not what it was. I sell in the streets, when I put things outside, and know all about the trade.

“It ain’t a fortnight back since a smart female servant, in slap-up black, sold me a basket-full of doctor’s bottles. I knew her master, and he hadn’t been buried a week before she come to me, and she said, ‘missus is glad to get rid of them, for they makes her cry.’ They often say their missusses sends things, and that they’re not on no account to take less than so much. That’s true at times, and at times it ain’t. I gives from 1-1/2_d._ to 3_d._ a dozen for good new bottles. I’m sure I can’t say what I give for other odds and ends; just as they’re good, bad, or indifferent. It’s a queer trade. Well, I pay my way, but I don’t know what I clear a week--about 2_l._ I dare say, but then there’s rent, rates, and taxes to pay, and other expenses.”

The Dolly system is peculiar to the rag-and-bottle man, as well as to the marine-store dealer. The name is derived from the black wooden doll, in white apparel, which generally hangs dangling over the door of the marine-store shops, or of the “rag-and-bottles,” but more frequently the last-mentioned. This type of the business is sometimes swung above their doors by those who are not dolly-shop keepers. The dolly-shops are essentially pawn-shops, and pawn-shops for the very poorest. There are many articles which the regular pawnbrokers decline to accept as pledges. Among these things are blankets, rugs, clocks, flock-beds, common pictures, “translated” boots, mended trowsers, kettles, saucepans, trays, &c. Such things are usually styled “lumber.” A poor person driven to the necessity of raising a few pence, and unwilling to part finally with his lumber, goes to the dolly-man, and for the merest trifle advanced, deposits one or other of the articles I have mentioned, or something similar. For an advance of 2_d._ or 3_d._, a halfpenny a week is charged, but the charge is the same if the pledge be redeemed next day. If the interest be paid at the week’s end, another 1_d._ is occasionally advanced, and no extra charge exacted for interest. If the interest be not paid at the week or fortnight’s end, the article is forfeited, and is sold at a large profit by the dolly-shop man. For 4_d._ or 6_d._ advanced, the weekly interest is 1_d._; for 9_d._ it is 1-1/2_d._; for 1_s._ it is 2_d._, and 2_d._ on each 1_s._ up to 5_s._, beyond which sum the “dolly” will rarely go; in fact, he will rarely advance as much. Two poor Irish flower girls, whom I saw in the course of my inquiry into that part of street-traffic, had in the winter very often to pledge the rug under which they slept at a dolly-shop in the morning for 6_d._, in order to provide themselves with stock-money to buy forced violets, and had to redeem it on their return in the evening, when they could, for 7_d._ Thus 6_d._ a week was sometimes paid for a daily advance of that sum. Some of these “illicit” pawnbrokers even give tickets.

This incidental mention of what is really an immense trade, as regards the number of pledges, is all that is necessary under the present head of inquiry, but I purpose entering into this branch of the subject fully and minutely when I come to treat of the class of “distributors.”

The iniquities to which the poor are subject are positively monstrous. A halfpenny a day interest on a loan of 2_d._ is at the rate of 7280 per cent. per annum!

OF THE BUYERS OF KITCHEN-STUFF, GREASE, AND DRIPPING.

THIS body of traders cannot be classed as street-buyers, so that only a brief account is here necessary. The buyers are not now chance people, itinerant on any round, as at one period they were to a great extent, but they are the proprietors of the rag and bottle and marine-store shops, or those they employ.

In this business there has been a considerable change. Until of late years women, often wearing suspiciously large cloaks and carrying baskets, ventured into perhaps every area in London, and asked for the cook at every house where they thought a cook might be kept, and this often at early morning. If the well-cloaked woman was known, business could be transacted without delay: if she were a stranger, she recommended herself by offering very liberal terms for “kitchen-stuff.” The cook’s, or kitchen-maid’s, or servant-of-all-work’s “perquisites,” were then generally disposed of to these collectors, some of whom were charwomen in the houses they resorted to for the purchase of the kitchen-stuff. They were often satisfied to purchase the dripping, &c., by the lump, estimating the weight and the value by the eye. In this traffic was frequently mixed up a good deal of pilfering, directly or indirectly. Silver spoons were thus disposed of. Candles, purposely broken and crushed, were often part of the grease; in the dripping, butter occasionally added to the weight; in the “stock” (the remains of meat boiled down for the making of soup) were sometimes portions of excellent meat fresh from the joints which had been carved at table; and among the broken bread, might be frequently seen small loaves, unbroken.

There is no doubt that this mode of traffic by itinerant charwomen, &c., is still carried on, but to a much smaller extent than formerly. The cook’s perquisites are in many cases sold under the inspection of the mistress, according to agreement; or taken to the shop by the cook or some fellow-servant; or else sent for by the shopkeeper. This is done to check the confidential, direct, and immediate trade-intercourse between merely two individuals, the buyer and seller, by making the transaction more open and regular. I did not hear of any persons who merely purchase the kitchen-stuff, as street-buyers, and sell it at once to the tallow-melter or the soap-boiler; it appears all to find its way to the shops I have described, even when bought by charwomen; while the shopkeepers send for it or receive it in the way I have stated, so that there is but little of street traffic in the matter.

One of these shopkeepers told me that in this trading, as far as his own opinion went, there was as much trickery as ever, and that many gentlefolk quietly made up their minds to submit to it, while others, he said, “kept the house in hot water” by resisting it. I found, however, the general opinion to be, that when servants could only dispose of these things to known people, the responsibility of the buyer as well as the seller was increased, and acted as a preventive check.

The price for kitchen-stuff is 1_d._ and 1-1/2_d._ the pound; for dripping--used by the poor as a substitute for butter--3-1/2_d._ to 5_d._

OF THE STREET-BUYERS OF HARE AND RABBIT SKINS.

These buyers are for the most part poor, old, or infirm people, and I am informed that the majority have been in some street business, and often as buyers, all their lives. Besides having derived this information from well-informed persons, I may point out that this is but a reasonable view of the case. If a mechanic, a labourer, or a gentleman’s servant, resorts to the streets for his bread, or because he is of a vagrant “turn,” he does not become a buyer, but a seller. Street-selling is the easier process. It is easy for a man to ascertain that oysters, for example, are sold wholesale at Billingsgate, and if he buy a bushel (as in the present summer) for 5_s._, it is not difficult to find out how many he can afford for “a penny a lot.” But the street-buyer must not only know what to give, for hare-skins for instance, but what he can depend upon getting from the hat-manufacturers, or hat-furriers, and upon having a regular market. Thus a double street-trade knowledge is necessary, and a novice will not care to meddle with any form of open-air traffic but the simplest. Neither is street-buying (old clothes excepted) generally cared for by adults who have health and strength.

In the course of a former inquiry I received an account of hareskin-buying from a woman, upwards of fifty, who had been in the trade, she told me, from childhood, “as was her mother before her.” The husband, who was lame, and older than his wife, had been all his life a field-catcher of birds, and a street-seller of hearth-stones. They had been married 31 years, and resided in a garret of a house, in a street off Drury-lane--a small room, with a close smell about it. The room was not unfurnished--it was, in fact, crowded. There were bird-cages, with and without birds, over what was once a bed; for the bed, just prior to my visit, had been sold to pay the rent, and a month’s rent was again in arrear; and there were bird-cages on the wall by the door, and bird-cages over the mantelshelf. There was furniture, too, and crockery; and a vile oil painting of “still life;” but an eye used to the furniture in the rooms of the poor could at once perceive that there was not one article which could be sold to a broker or marine-store dealer, or pledged at a pawn-shop. I was told the man and woman both drank hard. The woman said:--

“I’ve sold hareskins all my life, sir, and was born in London; but when hareskins isn’t in, I sells flowers. I goes about now (in November) for my skins every day, wet or dry, and all day long--that is, till it’s dark. To-day I’ve not laid out a penny, but then it’s been such a day for rain. I reckon that if I gets hold of eighteen hare and rabbit skins in a day, that is my greatest day’s work. I gives 2_d._ for good hares, what’s not riddled much, and sells them all for 2-1/2_d._ I sells what I pick up, by the twelve or the twenty, if I can afford to keep them by me till that number’s gathered, to a Jew. I don’t know what is done with them. I can’t tell you just what use they’re for--something about hats.” [The Jew was no doubt a hat-furrier, or supplying a hat-furrier.] “Jews gives us better prices than Christians, and buys readier; so I find. Last week I sold all I bought for 3_s._ 6_d._ I take some weeks as much as 8_s._ for what I pick up, and if I could get that every week I should think myself a lady. The profit left me a clear half-crown. There’s no difference in any perticler year--only that things gets worse. The game laws, as far as I knows, hasn’t made no difference in my trade. Indeed, I can’t say I knows anything about game laws at all, or hears anything consarning ’em. I goes along the squares and streets. I buys most at gentlemen’s houses. We never calls at hotels. The servants, and the women that chars, and washes, and jobs, manages it there. Hareskins is in--leastways I c’lects them--from September to the end of March, when hares, they says, goes mad. I can’t say what I makes one week with another--perhaps 2_s._ 6_d._ may be cleared every week.”

These buyers go regular rounds, carrying the skins in their hands, and crying, “Any hareskins, cook? Hareskins.” It is for the most part a winter trade; but some collect the skins all the year round, as the hares are now vended the year through; but by far the most are gathered in the winter. Grouse may not be killed excepting from the 12th, and black-game from the 20th of August to the 10th of December; partridges from the 1st of September to the 1st of February; while the pheasant suffers a shorter season of slaughter, from the 1st of October to the 1st of February; but there is no time restriction as to the killing of hares or of rabbits, though custom causes a cessation for a few months.

A lame man, apparently between 50 and 60, with a knowing look, gave me the following account. When I saw him he was carrying a few tins, chiefly small dripping-pans, under his arm, which he offered for sale as he went his round collecting hare and rabbit skins, of which he carried but one. He had been in the streets all his life, as his mother--he never knew any father--was a rag-gatherer, and at the same time a street-seller of the old brimstone matches and papers of pins. My informant assisted his mother to make and then to sell the matches. On her last illness she was received into St. Giles’s workhouse, her son supporting himself out of it; she had been dead many years. He could not read, and had never been in a church or chapel in his life. “He had been married,” he said, “for about a dozen years, and had a very good wife,” who was also a street-trader until her death; but “we didn’t go to church or anywhere to be married,” he told me, in reply to my question, “for we really couldn’t afford to pay the parson, and so we took one another’s words. If it’s so good to go to church for being married, it oughtn’t to cost a poor man nothing; he shouldn’t be charged for being good. I doesn’t do any business in town, but has my regular rounds. This is my Kentish and Camden-town day. I buys most from the servants at the bettermost houses, and I’d rather buy of them than the missusses, for some missusses sells their own skins, and they often want a deal for ’em. Why, just arter last Christmas, a young lady in that there house (pointing to it), after ordering me round to the back-door, came to me with two hareskins. They certainly was fine skins--werry fine. I said I’d give 4-1/2_d._ ‘Come now, my good man,’ says she,” and the man mimicked her voice, “‘let me have no nonsense. I can’t be deceived any longer, either by you or my servants; so give me 8_d._, and go about your business.’ Well, I went about my business; and a woman called to buy them, and offered 4_d._ for the two, and the lady was so wild, the servant told me arter; howsomever she only got 4_d._ at last. She’s a regular screw, but a fine-dressed one. I don’t know that there’s been any change in my business since hares was sold in the shops. If there’s more skins to sell, there’s more poor people to buy. I never tasted hares’ flesh in my life, though I’ve gathered so many of their skins. I’ve smelt it when they’ve been roasting them where I’ve called, but don’t think I could eat any. I live on bread and butter and tea, or milk sometimes in hot weather, and get a bite of fried fish or anything when I’m out, and a drop of beer and a smoke when I get home, if I can afford it. I don’t smoke in my own place, I uses a beer-shop. I pay 1_s._ 6_d._ a week for a small room; I want little but a bed in it, and have my own. I owe three weeks’ rent now; but I do best both with tins and hareskins in the cold weather. Monday’s my best day. O, as to rabbit-skins, I do werry little in them. Them as sells them gets the skins. Still there is a few to be picked up; such as them as has been sent as presents from the country. Good rabbit-skins is about the same price as hares, or perhaps a halfpenny lower, take them all through. I generally clears 6_d._ a dozen on my hare and rabbit-skins, and sometimes 8_d._ Yes, I should say that for about eight months I gathers four dozen every week, often five dozen. I suppose I make 5_s._ or 6_s._ a week all the year, with one thing or other, and a lame man can’t do wonders. I never begged in my life, but I’ve twice had help from the parish, and that only when I was very bad (ill). O, I suppose I shall end in the great house.”

There are, as closely as I can ascertain, at least 50 persons buying skins in the street; and calculating that each collects 50 skins weekly for 32 weeks of the year, we find 80,000 to be the total. This is a reasonable computation, for there are upwards of 102,000 hares consigned yearly to Newgate and Leadenhall markets; while the rabbits sold yearly in London amount to about 1,000,000; but, as I have shown, very few of their skins are disposed of to street-buyers.

OF THE STREET-BUYERS OF WASTE (PAPER).

Beyond all others the street-purchase of waste paper is the most curious of any in the hands of the class I now treat of. Some may have formed the notion that waste paper is merely that which is soiled or torn, or old numbers of newspapers, or other periodical publications; but this is merely a portion of the trade, as the subsequent account will show.

The men engaged in this business have not unfrequently an apartment, or a large closet, or recess, for the reception of their purchases of paper. They collect their paper street by street, calling upon every publisher, coffee-shop keeper, printer, or publican (but rarely on a publican), who may be a seller of “waste.” I heard the refuse paper called nothing but “waste” after the general elliptical fashion. Attorneys’ offices are often visited by these buyers, as are the offices of public men, such as tax or rate collectors, generally.

One man told me that until about ten years ago, and while he was a youth, he was employed by a relation in the trade to carry out waste paper sold to, or ordered by cheesemongers, &c., but that he never “collected,” or bought paper himself. At last he thought he would start on his own account, and the first person he called upon, he said, was a rich landlady, not far from Hungerford-market, whom he saw sometimes at her bar, and who was always very civil. He took an opportunity to ask her if she “happened to have any waste in the house, or would have any in a week or so?” Seeing the landlady look surprised and not very well pleased at what certainly appeared an impertinent inquiry, he hastened to explain that he meant old newspapers, or anything that way, which he would be glad to buy at so much a pound. The landlady however took in but one daily and one weekly paper (both sent into the country when a day or so old), and having had no dealings with men of my informant’s avocation, could not understand his object in putting such questions.

Every kind of paper is purchased by the “waste-men.” One of these dealers said to me: “I’ve often in my time ‘cleared out’ a lawyer’s office. I’ve bought old briefs, and other law papers, and ‘forms’ that weren’t the regular forms then, and any d----d thing they had in my line. You’ll excuse me, sir, but I couldn’t help thinking what a lot of misery was caused, perhaps, by the cwts. of waste I’ve bought at such places. If my father hadn’t got mixed up with law he wouldn’t have been ruined, and his children wouldn’t have had such a hard fight of it; so I hate law. All that happened when I was a child, and I never understood the rights or the wrongs of it, and don’t like to think of people that’s so foolish. I gave 1-1/2_d._ a pound for all I bought at the lawyers, and done pretty well with it, but very likely that’s the only good turn such paper ever did any one--unless it were the lawyers themselves.”

The waste-dealers do not confine their purchases to the tradesmen I have mentioned. They buy of any one, and sometimes act as middlemen or brokers. For instance, many small stationers and newsvendors, sometimes tobacconists in no extensive way of trade, sometimes chandlers, announce by a bill in their windows, “Waste Paper Bought and Sold in any Quantity,” while more frequently perhaps the trade is carried on, as an understood part of these small shopmen’s business, without any announcement. Thus the shop-buyers have much miscellaneous waste brought to them, and perhaps for only some particular kind have they a demand by their retail customers. The regular itinerant waste dealer then calls and “clears out everything” the “everything” being not an unmeaning word. One man, who “did largely in waste,” at my request endeavoured to enumerate all the kinds of paper he had purchased as waste, and the packages of paper he showed me, ready for delivery to his customers on the following day, confirmed all he said as he opened them and showed me of what they were composed. He had dealt, he said--and he took great pains and great interest in the inquiry, as one very curious, and was a respectable and intelligent man--in “books on every subject” [I give his own words] “on which a book can be written.” After a little consideration he added: “Well, perhaps every subject is a wide range; but if there are any exceptions, it’s on subjects not known to a busy man like me, who is occupied from morning till night every week day. The only worldly labour I do on a Sunday is to take my family’s dinner to the bake-house, bring it home after chapel, and read Lloyd’s Weekly. I’ve had Bibles--the backs are taken off in the waste trade, or it wouldn’t be fair weight--Testaments, Prayer-books, Companions to the Altar, and Sermons and religious works. Yes, I’ve had the Roman Catholic books, as is used in their public worship--at least so I suppose, for I never was in a Roman Catholic chapel. Well, it’s hard to say about proportions, but in my opinion, as far as it’s good for anything, I’ve not had them in anything like the proportion that I’ve had Prayer-books, and Watts’ and Wesley’s hymns. More shame; but you see, sir, perhaps a godly old man dies, and those that follow him care nothing for hymn-books, and so they come to such as me, for they’re so cheap now they’re not to be sold second-hand at all, I fancy. I’ve dealt in tragedies and comedies, old and new, cut and uncut--they’re best uncut, for you can make them into sheets then--and farces, and books of the opera. I’ve had scientific and medical works of every possible kind, and histories, and travels, and lives, and memoirs. I needn’t go through them--everything, from a needle to an anchor, as the saying is. Poetry, ay, many a hundred weight; Latin and Greek (sometimes), and French, and other foreign languages. Well now, sir, as you mention it, I think I never did have a Hebrew work; I think not, and I know the Hebrew letters when I see them. Black letter, not once in a couple of years; no, nor in three or four years, when I think of it. I have met with it, but I always take anything I’ve got that way to Mr. ----, the bookseller, who uses a poor man well. Don’t you think, sir, I’m complaining of poverty; though I have been very poor, when I was recovering from cholera at the first break-out of it, and I’m anything but rich now. Pamphlets I’ve had by the ton, in my time; I think we should both be tired if I could go through all they were about. Very many were religious, more’s the pity. I’ve heard of a page round a quarter of cheese, though, touching a man’s heart.”

In corroboration of my informant’s statement, I may mention that in the course of my inquiry into the condition of the fancy cabinet-makers of the metropolis, one elderly and very intelligent man, a first-rate artisan in skill, told me he had been so reduced in the world by the underselling of slop-masters (called “butchers” or “slaughterers,” by the workmen in the trade), that though in his youth he could take in the News and Examiner papers (each he believed 9_d._ at that time, but was not certain), he could afford, and enjoyed, no reading when I saw him last autumn, beyond the book-leaves in which he received his quarter of cheese, his small piece of bacon or fresh meat, or his saveloys; and his wife schemed to go to the shops who “wrapped up their things from books,” in order that he might have something to read after his day’s work.

My informant went on with his specification: “Missionary papers of all kinds. Parliamentary papers, but not so often new ones, very largely. Railway prospectuses, with plans to some of them, nice engravings; and the same with other joint-stock companies. Children’s copy-books, and cyphering-books. Old account-books of every kind. A good many years ago, I had some that must have belonged to a West End perfumer, there was such French items for Lady this, or the Honourable Captain that. I remember there was an Hon. Capt. G., and almost at every second page was ‘100 tooth-picks, 3_s._ 6_d._’ I think it was 3_s._ 6_d._; in arranging this sort of waste one now and then gives a glance to it. Dictionaries of every sort, I’ve had, but not so commonly. Music books, lots of them. Manuscripts, but only if they’re rather old; well, 20 or 30 years or so: I call that old. Letters on every possible subject, but not, in my experience, any very modern ones. An old man dies, you see, and his papers are sold off, letters and all; that’s the way; get rid of all the old rubbish, as soon as the old boy’s pointing his toes to the sky. What’s old letters worth, when the writers are dead and buried? why, perhaps 1-1/2_d._ a pound, and it’s a rattling big letter that will weigh half-an-ounce. O, it’s a queer trade, but there’s many worse.”

The letters which I saw in another waste-dealer’s possession were 45 in number, a small collection, I was told; for the most part they were very dull and common-place. Among them, however, was the following, in an elegant, and I presume a female hand, but not in the modern fashionable style of handwriting. The letter is evidently old, the address is of West-end gentility, but I leave out name and other particularities:--

“Mrs. ---- [it is not easy to judge whether the flourished letters are ‘Mrs.’ or ‘Miss,’ but certainly more like ‘Mrs.’] Mrs. ---- (Zoological Artist) presents her compliments to Mr. ----, and being commissioned to communicate with a gentleman of the name, recently arrived at Charing-cross, and presumed by description to be himself, in a matter of delicacy and confidence, indispensably verbal; begs to say, that if interested in the ecclaircissement and necessary to the same, she may be found in attendance, any afternoon of the current week, from 3 to 6 o’clock, and no other hours.

“---- street, ---- square.

“Monday Morn. for the aftn., at home.”

Among the books destined to a butcher, I found three perfect numbers of a sixpenny periodical, published a few years back. Three, or rather two and a half, numbers of a shilling periodical, with “coloured engravings of the fashions.” Two (imperfect) volumes of French Plays, an excellent edition; among the plays were Athalie, Iphigénie, Phèdre, Les Frères Ennemis, Alexandre, Andromaque, Les Plaideurs, and Esther. A music sheet, headed “A lonely thing I would not be.” A few pages of what seems to have been a book of tales: “Album d’un Sourd-Muet” (36 pages in the pamphlet form, quite new). All these constituted about twopennyworth to the butcher. Notwithstanding the variety of sources from which the supply is derived, I heard from several quarters that “waste never was so scarce” as at present; it was hardly to be had at all.

The purchasers of the waste-paper from the collectors are cheesemongers, buttermen, butchers, fishmongers, poulterers, pork and sausage-sellers, sweet-stuff-sellers, tobacconists, chandlers--and indeed all who sell provisions or such luxuries as I have mentioned in retail. Some of the wholesale provision houses buy very largely and sell the waste again to their customers, who pay more for it by such a medium of purchase, but they have it thus on credit. Any retail trader in provisions at all “in a large way,” will readily buy six or seven cwt. at a time. The price given by them varies from 1-1/4_d._ to 3-1/2_d._ the pound, but it is very rarely either so low or so high. The average price may be taken at 18_s._ the cwt., which is not quite 2_d._ a pound, and at this rate I learn from the best-informed parties there are twelve tons sold weekly, or 1624 tons yearly (1,397,760 lbs.), at the cost of 11,232_l._ One man in the trade was confident the value of the waste paper sold could not be less than 12,000_l._ in a year.

There are about 60 men in this trade, nearly 50 of whom live entirely, as it was described to me, “by their waste,” and bring up their families upon it. The others unite some other avocation with it. The earnings of the regular collectors vary from 15_s._ weekly to 35_s._ accordingly as they meet with a supply on favourable terms, or, as they call it, “a good pull in a lot of waste.” They usually reside in a private room with a recess, or a second room, in which they sort, pack, and keep their paper.

One of these traders told me that he was satisfied that stolen paper seldom found its way, directly, into the collectors’ hands, “particularly publisher’s paper,” he added. “Why, not long since there was a lot of sheets stolen from Alderman Kelly’s warehouse, and the thief didn’t take them to a waste dealer; he knew better. He took them, sir, to a tradesman in a large respectable way over the water--a man that uses great lots of waste--and sold them at just what was handed to him: I suppose no questions asked. The thief was tried and convicted, but nothing was done to the buyer.”

It must not be supposed that the waste-paper used by the London tradesmen costs no more than 12,000_l._ in a year. A large quantity is bought direct by butchers and others from poor persons going to them with a small quantity of their own accumulating, or with such things as copy-books.

OF THE STREET-BUYERS OF UMBRELLAS AND PARASOLS.

The street-traders in old umbrellas and parasols are numerous, but the buying is but one part, and the least skilled part, of the business. Men, some tolerably well-dressed, some swarthy-looking, like gipsies, and some with a vagabond aspect, may be seen in all quarters of the town and suburbs, carrying a few ragged-looking umbrellas, or the sticks or ribs of umbrellas, under their arms, and crying “Umbrellas to mend,” or “Any old umbrellas to sell?” The traffickers in umbrellas are also the crockmen, who are always glad to obtain them in barter, and who merely dispose of them at the Old Clothes Exchange, or in Petticoat-lane.

The umbrella-menders are known by an appellation of an appropriateness not uncommon in street language. They are mushroom-fakers. The form of the expanded umbrella resembles that of a mushroom, and it has the further characteristic of being rapidly or suddenly raised, the mushroom itself springing up and attaining its full size in a very brief space of time. The term, however, like all street or popular terms or phrases, has become very generally condensed among those who carry on the trade--they are now mush-fakers, a word which, to any one who has not heard the term in full, is as meaningless as any in the vocabulary of slang.

The mushroom-fakers will repair any umbrella on the owner’s premises, and their work is often done adroitly, I am informed, and as often bunglingly, or, in the trade term, “botched.” So far there is no traffic in the business, the mushroom-faker simply performing a piece of handicraft, and being paid for the job. But there is another class of street-folk who buy the old umbrellas in Petticoat-lane, or of the street buyer or collector, and “sometimes,” as one of these men said to me, “we are our own buyers on a round.” They mend the umbrellas--some of their wives, I am assured, being adepts as well as themselves--and offer them for sale on the approaches to the bridges, and at the corners of streets.

The street umbrella trade is really curious. Not so very many years back the use of an umbrella by a man was regarded as partaking of effeminacy, but now they are sold in thousands in the streets, and in the second-hand shops of Monmouth-street and such places. One of these street-traders told me that he had lately sold, but not to an extent which might encourage him to proceed, old silk umbrellas in the street for gentlemen to protect themselves from the rays of the sun.

The purchase of umbrellas is in a great degree mixed up with that of old clothes, of which I have soon to treat; but from what I have stated it is evident that the umbrella trade is most connected with street-artisanship, and under that head I shall describe it.

OF THE STREET-JEWS.

Although my present inquiry relates to London life in London streets, it is necessary that I should briefly treat of the Jews generally, as an integral, but distinct and peculiar part of street-life.

That this ancient people were engaged in what may be called street-traffic in the earlier ages of our history, as well as in the importation of spices, furs, fine leather, armour, drugs, and general merchandise, there can be no doubt; nevertheless concerning this part of the subject there are but the most meagre accounts.

Jews were settled in England as early as 730, and during the sway of the Saxon kings. They increased in number after the era of the Conquest; but it was not until the rapacity to which they were exposed in the reign of Stephen had in a great measure exhausted itself, and until the measures of Henry II. had given encouragement to commerce, and some degree of security to property in cities or congregated communities, that the Jews in England became numerous and wealthy. They then became active and enterprising attendants at fairs, where the greater portion of the internal trade of the kingdom was carried on, and especially the traffic in the more valuable commodities, such as plate, jewels, armour, cloths, wines, spices, horses, cattle, &c. The agents of the great prelates and barons, and even of the ruling princes, purchased what they required at these fairs. St. Giles’s fair, held at St. Giles’s hill, not far from Winchester, continued sixteen days. The fair was, as it were, a temporary city. There were streets of tents in every direction, in which the traders offered and displayed their wares. During the continuance of the fair, business was strictly prohibited in Winchester, Southampton, and in every place within seven miles of St. Giles’s hill. Among the tent-owners at such fairs were the Jews.

At this period the Jews may be considered as one of the bodies of “merchant-strangers,” as they were called, settled in England for purposes of commerce. Among the other bodies of these “strangers” were the German “merchants of the steel-yard,” the Lombards, the Caursini of Rome, the “merchants of the staple,” and others. These were all corporations, and thriving corporations (when unmolested), and the Jews had also their Jewerie, or Judaisme, not for a “corporation” merely, but also for the requirements of their faith and worship, and for their living together. The London Jewerie was established in a place of which no vestige of its establishment now remains beyond the name--the Old Jewry. Here was erected the first synagogue of the Jews in England, which was defaced or demolished, Maitland states, by the citizens, after they had slain 700 Jews (other accounts represent that number as greatly exaggerated). This took place in 1263, during one of the many disturbances in the uneasy reign of Henry III.

All this time the Jews amassed wealth by trade and usury, in spite of their being plundered and maltreated by the princes and other potentates--every one has heard of King John’s having a Jew’s teeth drawn--and in spite of their being reviled by the priests and hated by the people. The sovereigns generally encouraged “merchant-strangers.” When the city of London, in 1289, petitioned Edward I. for “the expulsion of all merchant-strangers,” that monarch answered, with all a monarch’s peculiar regard for “great” men and “great” men only, “No! the merchant-strangers are useful and beneficial to the great men of the kingdom, and I will not expel them.” But though the King encouraged, the people detested, all foreign traders, though not with the same intensity as they detested and contemned the Jews, for in that detestation a strong religious feeling was an element. Of this dislike to the merchant-strangers, very many instances might be cited, but I need give only one. In 1379, nearly a century after the banishment of the Jews, a Genoese merchant, a man of great wealth, petitioned Richard II. for permission to deposit goods for safe keeping in Southampton Castle, promising to introduce so large a share of the commerce of the East into England, that pepper should be 4_d._ a pound. “Yet the Londoners,” writes Walsingham, but in the quaint monkish Latin of the day, “enemies to the prosperity of their country, hired assassins, who murdered the merchant in the street. After this, what stranger will trust his person among a people so faithless and so cruel? who will not dread our treachery, and abhor our name?”

In 1290, by a decree of Edward I., the Jews were banished out of England. The causes assigned for this summary act, were “their extortions, their debasing and diminishing the coin, and for other crimes.” I need not enter into the merits or demerits of the Jews of that age, but it is certain that any ridiculous charge, any which it was impossible could be true, was an excuse for the plundering of them at the hands of the rich, and the persecution of them at the hands of the people. At the period of this banishment, their number is represented by the contemporaneous historians to have been about 16,000, a number most probably exaggerated, as perhaps all statements of the numbers of a people are when no statistical knowledge has been acquired. During this period of their abode in England, the Jews were protected as the villeins or bondsmen of the king, a protection disregarded by the commonalty, and only giving to the executive government greater facilities of extortion and oppression.

In 1655 an Amsterdam Jew, Rabbi Manasseh Ben-Israel, whose name is still highly esteemed among his countrymen, addressed Cromwell on the behalf of the Jews that they should be re-admitted into England with the sanction, and under the protection, of the law. Despite the absence of such sanction, they had resided and of course traded in this country, but in small numbers, and trading often in indirect and sometimes in contraband ways. Chaucer, writing in the days of Richard II., three reigns after their expulsion, speaks of Jews as living in England. It is reputed that, in the reigns of Elizabeth and the first James, they supplied, at great profit, the materials required by the alchymists for their experiments in the transmutation of metals. In Elizabeth’s reign, too, Jewish physicians were highly esteemed in England. The Queen at one time confided the care of her health to Rodrigo Lopez, a Hebrew, who, however, was convicted of an attempt to poison his royal mistress. Francis I., of France, carried his opinion of Jewish medical skill to a great height; he refused on one occasion, during an illness, to be attended by the most eminent of the Israelitish physicians, because the learned man had just before been converted to Christianity. The most Christian king, therefore, applied to his ally, the Turkish sultan, Solyman II., who sent him “a true hardened Jew,” by whose directions Francis drank asses’ milk and recovered.

Cromwell’s response to the application of Manasseh Ben Israel was favourable; but the opposition of the Puritans, and more especially of Prynne, prevented any public declaration on the subject. In 1656, however, the Jews began to arrive and establish themselves in England, but not until after the restoration of Charles II., in 1660, could it be said that, as a body, they were settled in England. They arrived from time to time, and without any formal sanction being either granted or refused. One reason alleged at the time was, that the Jews were well known to be money-lenders, and Charles and his courtiers were as well known money-borrowers!

I now come to the character and establishment of the Jews in the capacity in which I have more especially to describe them--as street-traders. There appears no reason to doubt that they commenced their principal street traffic, the collecting of old clothes, soon after their settlement in London. At any rate the cry and calling of the Jew old clothesman were so established, 30 or 40 years after their return, or early in the last century, that one of them is delineated in Tempest’s “Cries of London,” published about that period. In this work the street Jew is represented as very different in his appearance to that which he presents in our day. Instead of merely a dingy bag, hung empty over his arm, or carried, when partially or wholly filled, on his shoulder, he is depicted as wearing, or rather carrying, three cocked hats, one over the other, upon his head; a muff, with a scarf or large handkerchief over it, is attached to his right hand and arm, and two dress swords occupy his left hand. The apparel which he himself wears is of the full-skirted style of the day, and his long hair, or periwig, descends to his shoulders. This difference in appearance, however, between the street Jew of 1700 and of a century and a half later, is simply the effect of circumstances, and indicates no change in the character of the man. Were it now the fashion for gentlemen to wear muffs, swords, and cocked hats, the Jew would again have them in his possession.

During the eighteenth century the popular feeling ran very high against the Jews, although to the masses they were almost strangers, except as men employed in the not-very-formidable occupation of collecting and vending second-hand clothes. The old feeling against them seems to have lingered among the English people, and their own greed in many instances engendered other and lawful causes of dislike, by their resorting to unlawful and debasing pursuits. They were considered--and with that exaggeration of belief dear to any ignorant community--as an entire people of misers, usurers, extortioners, receivers of stolen goods, cheats, brothel-keepers, sheriff’s-officers, clippers and sweaters of the coin of the realm, gaming-house keepers; in fine, the charges, or rather the accusations, of carrying on every disreputable trade, and none else, were “bundled at their doors.” That there was too much foundation for many of these accusations, and still is, no reasonable Jew can now deny; that the wholesale prejudice against them was absurd, is equally indisputable.

So strong was this popular feeling against the Israelites, that it not only influenced, and not only controlled the legislature, but it coerced the Houses of Parliament to repeal, in 1754, an act which they had passed the previous session, and that act was merely to enable foreign Jews to be naturalized without being required to take the sacrament! It was at that time, and while the popular ferment was at its height, unsafe for a Hebrew old clothesman, however harmless a man, and however long and well known on his beat, to ply his street-calling openly; for he was often beaten and maltreated. Mobs, riots, pillagings, and attacks upon the houses of the Jews were frequent, and one of the favourite cries of the mob was certainly among the most preposterously stupid of any which ever tickled the ear and satisfied the mind of the ignorant:--

“No Jews! No wooden shoes!!”

Some mob-leader, with a taste for rhyme, had in this distich cleverly blended the prejudice against the Jews with the easily excited but vague fears of a French invasion, which was in some strange way typified to the apprehensions of the vulgar as connected with slavery, popery, the compulsory wearing of wooden shoes (sabots), and the eating of frogs! And this sort of feeling was often revenged on the street-Jew, as a man mixed up with wooden shoes! Cumberland, in the comedy of “The Jew,” and some time afterwards Miss Edgeworth, in the tale of “Harrington and Ormond,” and both at the request of Jews, wrote to moderate this rabid prejudice.

In what estimation the street, and, incidentally, all classes of Jews are held at the present time, will be seen in the course of my remarks; and in the narratives to be given. I may here observe, however, that among some the dominant feeling against the Jews on account of their faith still flourishes, as is shown by the following statement:--A gentleman of my acquaintance was one evening, about twilight, walking down Brydges-street, Covent-garden, when an elderly Jew was preceding him, apparently on his return from a day’s work, as an old clothesman. His bag accidentally touched the bonnet of a dashing woman of the town, who was passing, and she turned round, abused the Jew, and spat at him, saying with an oath: “You old rags humbug! You can’t do that!”--an allusion to a vulgar notion that Jews have been unable to do more than slobber, since spitting on the Saviour.

The number of Jews now in England is computed at 35,000. This is the result at which the Chief Rabbi arrived a few years ago, after collecting all the statistical information at his command. Of these 35,000, more than one-half, or about 18,000, reside in London. I am informed that there may now be a small increase to this population, but only small, for many Jews have emigrated--some to California. A few years ago--a circumstance mentioned in my account of the Street-Sellers of Jewellery--there were a number of Jews known as “hawkers,” or “travellers,” who traverse every part of England selling watches, gold and silver pencil-cases, eye-glasses, and all the more portable descriptions of jewellery, as well as thermometers, barometers, telescopes, and microscopes. This trade is now little pursued, except by the stationary dealers; and the Jews who carried it on, and who were chiefly foreign Jews, have emigrated to America. The foreign Jews who, though a fluctuating body, are always numerous in London, are included in the computation of 18,000; of this population two-thirds reside in the city, or the streets adjacent to the eastern boundaries of the city.

OF THE TRADES AND LOCALITIES OF THE STREET-JEWS.

The trades which the Jews most affect, I was told by one of themselves, are those in which, as they describe it, “there’s a chance;” that is, they prefer a trade in such commodity as is not subjected to a fixed price, so that there may be abundant scope for speculation, and something like a gambler’s chance for profit or loss. In this way, Sir Walter Scott has said, trade has “all the fascination of gambling, without the moral guilt;” but the absence of moral guilt in connection with such trading is certainly dubious.

The wholesale trades in foreign commodities which are now principally or solely in the hands of the Jews, often as importers and exporters, are, watches and jewels, sponges--fruits, especially green fruits, such as oranges, lemons, grapes, walnuts, cocoa-nuts, &c., and dates among dried fruits--shells, tortoises, parrots and foreign birds, curiosities, ostrich feathers, snuffs, cigars, and pipes; but cigars far more extensively at one time.

The localities in which these wholesale and retail traders reside are mostly at the East-end--indeed the Jews of London, as a congregated body, have been, from the times when their numbers were sufficient to institute a “settlement” or “colony,” peculiar to themselves, always resident in the eastern quarter of the metropolis.

Of course a wealthy Jew millionaire--merchant, stock-jobber, or stock-broker--resides where he pleases--in a villa near the Marquis of Hertford’s in the Regent’s-park, a mansion near the Duke of Wellington’s in Piccadilly, a house and grounds at Clapham or Stamford-hill; but these are exceptions. The quarters of the Jews are not difficult to describe. The trading-class in the capacity of shopkeepers, warehousemen, or manufacturers, are the thickest in Houndsditch, Aldgate, and the Minories, more especially as regards the “swag-shops” and the manufacture and sale of wearing apparel. The wholesale dealers in fruit are in Duke’s-place and Pudding-lane (Thames-street), but the superior retail Jew fruiterers--some of whose shops are remarkable for the beauty of their fruit--are in Cheapside, Oxford-street, Piccadilly, and most of all in Covent-garden market. The inferior jewellers (some of whom deal with the first shops) are also at the East-end, about Whitechapel, Bevis-marks, and Houndsditch; the wealthier goldsmiths and watchmakers having, like other tradesmen of the class, their shops in the superior thoroughfares. The great congregation of working watchmakers is in Clerkenwell, but in that locality there are only a few Jews. The Hebrew dealers in second-hand garments, and second-hand wares generally, are located about Petticoat-lane, the peculiarities of which place I have lately described. The manufacturers of such things as cigars, pencils, and sealing-wax; the wholesale importers of sponge, bristles and toys, the dealers in quills and in “looking-glasses,” reside in large private-looking houses, when display is not needed for purposes of business, in such parts as Maunsell-street, Great Prescott-street, Great Ailie-street, Leman-street, and other parts of the eastern quarter known as Goodman’s-fields. The wholesale dealers in foreign birds and shells, and in the many foreign things known as “curiosities,” reside in East Smithfield, Ratcliffe-highway, High-street (Shadwell), or in some of the parts adjacent to the Thames. In the long range of river-side streets, stretching from the Tower to Poplar and Blackwall, are Jews, who fulfil the many capacities of slop-sellers, &c., called into exercise by the requirements of seafaring people on their return from or commencement of a voyage. A few Jews keep boarding-houses for sailors in Shadwell and Wapping. Of the localities and abodes of the poorest of the Jews I shall speak hereafter.

Concerning the street-trades pursued by the Jews, I believe there is not at present a single one of which they can be said to have a monopoly; nor in any one branch of the street-traffic are there so many of the Jew traders as there were a few years back.

This remarkable change is thus to be accounted for. Strange as the fact may appear, the Jew has been undersold in the streets, and he has been beaten on what might be called his own ground--the buying of old clothes. The Jew boys, and the feebler and elder Jews, had, until some twelve or fifteen years back, almost the monopoly of orange and lemon street-selling, or street-hawking. The costermonger class had possession of the theatre doors and the approaches to the theatres; they had, too, occasionally their barrows full of oranges; but the Jews were the daily, assiduous, and itinerant street-sellers of this most popular of foreign, and perhaps of all, fruits. In their hopes of sale they followed any one a mile if encouraged, even by a few approving glances. The great theatre of this traffic was in the stage-coach yards in such inns as the Bull and Mouth, (St. Martin’s-le-Grand), the Belle Sauvage (Ludgate-hill), the Saracen’s Head (Snow-hill), the Bull (Aldgate), the Swan-with-two-Necks (Lad-lane, City), the George and Blue Boar (Holborn), the White Horse (Fetter-lane), and other such places. They were seen too, “with all their eyes about them,” as one informant expressed it, outside the inns where the coaches stopped to take up passengers--at the White Horse Cellar in Piccadilly, for instance, and the Angel and the (now defunct) Peacock in Islington. A commercial traveller told me that he could never leave town by any “mail” or “stage,” without being besieged by a small army of Jew boys, who most pertinaciously offered him oranges, lemons, sponges, combs, pocket-books, pencils, sealing-wax, paper, many-bladed pen-knives, razors, pocket-mirrors, and shaving-boxes--as if a man could not possibly quit the metropolis without requiring a stock of such commodities. In the whole of these trades, unless in some degree in sponges and blacklead-pencils, the Jew is now out-numbered or displaced.

I have before alluded to the underselling of the Jew boy by the Irish boy in the street-orange trade; but the characteristics of the change are so peculiar, that a further notice is necessary. It is curious to observe that the most assiduous, and hitherto the most successful of street-traders, were supplanted, not by a more persevering or more skilful body of street-sellers, but simply by a more starving body.

Some few years since poor Irish people, and chiefly those connected with the culture of the land, “came over” to this country in great numbers, actuated either by vague hopes of “bettering themselves” by emigration, or working on the railways, or else influenced by the restlessness common to an impoverished people. These men, when unable to obtain employment, without scruple became street-sellers. Not only did the adults resort to street-traffic, generally in its simplest forms, such as hawking fruit, but the children, by whom they were accompanied from Ireland, in great numbers, were put into the trade; and if two or three children earned 2_d._ a day each, and their parents 5_d._ or 6_d._ each, or even 4_d._, the subsistence of the family was better than they could obtain in the midst of the miseries of the southern and western part of the Sister Isle. An Irish boy of fourteen, having to support himself by street-trade, as was often the case, owing to the death of parents and to divers casualties, would undersell the Jew boys similarly circumstanced.

The Irish boy could live harder than the Jew--often in his own country he subsisted on a stolen turnip a day; he could lodge harder--lodge for 1_d._ a night in any noisome den, or sleep in the open air, which is seldom done by the Jew boy; he could dispense with the use of shoes and stockings--a dispensation at which his rival in trade revolted; he drank only water, or if he took tea or coffee, it was as a meal, and not merely as a beverage; to crown the whole, the city-bred Jew boy required some evening recreation, the penny or twopenny concert, or a game at draughts or dominoes; but this the Irish boy, country bred, never thought of, for his sole luxury was a deep sleep, and, being regardless or ignorant of all such recreations, he worked longer hours, and so sold more oranges, than his Hebrew competitor. Thus, as the Munster or Connaught lad could live on less than the young denizen of Petticoat-lane, he could sell at smaller profit, and did so sell, until gradually the Hebrew youths were displaced by the Irish in the street orange trade.

It is the same, or the same in a degree, with other street-trades, which were at one time all but monopolised by the Jew adults. Among these were the street-sale of spectacles and sponges. The prevalence of slop-work and slop-wages, and the frequent difficulty of obtaining properly-remunerated employment--the pinch of want, in short--have driven many mechanics to street-traffic; so that the numbers of street-traffickers have been augmented, while no small portion of the new comers have adopted the more knowing street avocations, formerly pursued only by the Jews.

Of the other class of street-traders who have interfered largely with the old-clothes trade, which, at one time, people seemed to consider a sort of birthright among the Jews, I have already spoken, when treating of the dealings of the crockmen in bartering glass and crockery-ware for second-hand apparel. These traders now obtain as many old clothes as the Jew clothes men themselves; for, with a great number of “ladies,” the offer of an ornament of glass or spar, or of a beautiful and fragrant plant, is more attractive than the offer of a small sum of money, for the purchase of the left-off garments of the family.

The crockmen are usually strong and in the prime of youth or manhood, and are capable of carrying heavy burdens of glass or china-wares, for which the Jews are either incompetent or disinclined.

Some of the Jews which have been thus displaced from the street-traffic have emigrated to America, with the assistance of their brethren.

The principal street-trades of the Jews are now in sponges, spectacles, combs, pencils, accordions, cakes, sweetmeats, drugs, and fruits of all kinds; but, in all these trades, unless perhaps in drugs, they are in a minority compared with the “Christian” street-sellers.

There is not among the Jew street-sellers generally anything of the concubinage or cohabitation common among the costermongers. Marriage is the rule.

OF THE JEW OLD-CLOTHES MEN.

Fifty years ago the appearance of the street-Jews, engaged in the purchase of second-hand clothes, was different to what it is at the present time. The Jew then had far more of the distinctive garb and aspect of a foreigner. He not unfrequently wore the gabardine, which is never seen now in the streets, but some of the long loose frock coats worn by the Jew clothes’ buyers resemble it. At that period, too, the Jew’s long beard was far more distinctive than it is in this hirsute generation.

In other respects the street-Jew is unchanged. Now, as during the last century, he traverses every street, square, and road, with the monotonous cry, sometimes like a bleat, of “Clo’! Clo’!” On this head, however, I have previously remarked, when describing the street Jew of a hundred years ago.

In an inquiry into the condition of the old-clothes dealers a year and a half ago, a Jew gave me the following account. He told me, at the commencement of his statement, that he was of opinion that his people were far more speculative than the Gentiles, and therefore the English liked better to deal with them. “Our people,” he said, “will be out all day in the wet, and begrudge themselves a bit of anything to eat till they go home, and then, may be, they’ll gamble away their crown, just for the love of speculation.” My informant, who could write or speak several languages, and had been 50 years in the business, then said, “I am no bigot; indeed I do not care where I buy my meat, so long as I can get it. I often go into the Minories and buy some, without looking to how it has been killed, or whether it has a seal on it or not.”

He then gave me some account of the Jewish children, and the number of men in the trade, which I have embodied under the proper heads. The itinerant Jew clothes man, he told me, was generally the son of a former old-clothes man, but some were cigar-makers, or pencil-makers, taking to the clothes business when those trades were slack; but that nineteen out of twenty had been born to it. If the parents of the Jew boy are poor, and the boy a sharp lad, he generally commences business at ten years of age, by selling lemons, or some trifle in the streets, and so, as he expressed it, the boy “gets a round,” or street-connection, by becoming known to the neighbourhoods he visits. If he sees a servant, he will, when selling his lemons, ask if she have any old shoes or old clothes, and offer to be a purchaser. If the clothes should come to more than the Jew boy has in his pocket, he leaves what silver he has as “an earnest upon them,” and then seeks some regular Jew clothes man, who will advance the purchase money. This the old Jew agrees to do upon the understanding that he is to have “half Rybeck,” that is, a moiety of the profit, and then he will accompany the boy to the house, to pass his judgment on the goods, and satisfy himself that the stripling has not made a blind bargain, an error into which he very rarely falls. After this he goes with the lad to Petticoat-lane, and there they share whatever money the clothes may bring over and above what has been paid for them. By such means the Jew boy gets his knowledge of the old-clothes business; and so quick are these lads generally, that in the course of two months they will acquire sufficient experience in connection with the trade to begin dealing on their own account. There are some, he told me, as sharp at 15 as men of 50.

“It is very seldom,” my informant stated, “very seldom indeed, that a Jew clothes man takes away any of the property of the house he may be called into. I expect there’s a good many of ’em,” he continued, for he sometimes spoke of his co-traders, as if they were not of his own class, “is fond of cheating--that is, they won’t mind giving only 2_s._ for a thing that’s worth 5_s._ They are fond of money, and will do almost anything to get it. Jews are perhaps the most money-loving people in all England. There are certainly some old-clothes men who will buy articles at such a price that they must know them to have been stolen. Their rule, however, is to ask no questions, and to get as cheap an article as possible. A Jew clothes man is seldom or never seen in liquor. They gamble for money, either at their own homes or at public-houses. The favourite games are tossing, dominoes, and cards. I was informed, by one of the people, that he had seen as much as 30_l._ in silver and gold lying upon the ground when two parties had been playing at throwing three halfpence in the air. On a Saturday, some gamble away the morning and the greater part of the afternoon.” [Saturday, I need hardly say, is the Hebrew Sabbath.] “They meet in some secret back place, about ten, and begin playing for ‘one a time’--that is, tossing up three halfpence, and staking 1_s._ on the result. Other Jews, and a few Christians, will gather round and bet. Sometimes the bets laid by the Jew bystanders are as high as 2_l._ each; and on more than one occasion the old-clothes men have wagered as much as 50_l._, but only after great gains at gambling. Some, if they can, will cheat, by means of a halfpenny with a head or a tail on both sides, called a ‘gray.’ The play lasts till the Sabbath is nearly over, and then they go to business or the theatre. They seldom or never say a word while they are losing, but merely stamp on the ground; it is dangerous, though, to interfere when luck runs against them. The rule is, when a man is losing to let him alone. I have known them play for three hours together, and nothing be said all that time but ‘head’ or ‘tail.’ They seldom go to synagogue, and on a Sunday evening have card parties at their own houses. They seldom eat anything on their rounds. The reason is, not because they object to eat meat killed by a Christian, but because they are afraid of losing a ‘deal,’ or the chance of buying a lot of old clothes by delay. They are generally too lazy to light their own fires before they start of a morning, and nineteen out of twenty obtain their breakfasts at the coffee-shops about Houndsditch.

“When they return from their day’s work they have mostly some stew ready, prepared by their parents or wife. If they are not family men they go to an eating-house. This is sometimes a Jewish house, but if no one is looking they creep into a Christian ‘cook-shop,’ not being particular about eating ‘tryfer’--that is, meat which has been killed by a Christian. Those that are single generally go to a neighbour and agree with him to be boarded on the Sabbath; and for this the charge is generally about 2_s._ 6_d._ On a Saturday there’s cold fish for breakfast and supper; indeed, a Jew would pawn the shirt off his back sooner than go without fish then; and in holiday-time he will have it, if he has to get it out of the stones. It is not reckoned a holiday unless there’s fish.”

“Forty years ago I have made as much as 5_l._ in a week by the purchase of old clothes in the streets,” said a Jew informant. “Upon an average then, I could earn weekly about 2_l._ But now things are different. People are more wide awake. Every one knows the value of an old coat now-a-days. The women know more than the men. The general average, I think, take the good weeks with the bad throughout the year, is about 1_l._ a week; some weeks we get 2_l._, and some scarcely nothing.”

I was told by a Jewish professional gentleman that the account of the spirit of gambling prevalent among his people was correct, but the amounts said to be staked, he thought, rare or exaggerated.

The Jew old-clothes men are generally far more cleanly in their habits than the poorer classes of English people. Their hands they always wash before their meals, and this is done whether the party be a strict Jew or “Meshumet,” a convert, or apostate from Judaism. Neither will the Israelite ever use the same knife to cut his meat that he previously used to spread his butter, and he will not even put his meat on a plate that has had butter on it; nor will he use for his soup the spoon that has had melted butter in it. This objection to mix butter with meat is carried so far, that, after partaking of the one, Jews will not eat of the other for the space of two hours. The Jews are generally, when married, most exemplary family men. There are few fonder fathers than they are, and they will starve themselves sooner than their wives and children should want. Whatever their faults may be, they are good fathers, husbands, and sons. Their principal characteristic is their extreme love of money; and, though the strict Jew does not trade himself on the Sabbath, he may not object to employ either one of his tribe, or a Gentile, to do so for him.

The capital required for commencing in the old-clothes line is generally about 1_l._ This the Jew frequently borrows, especially after holiday-time, for then he has generally spent all his earnings, unless he be a provident man. When his stock-money is exhausted, he goes either to a neighbour or to a publican in the vicinity, and borrows 1_l._ on the Monday morning, “to strike a light with,” as he calls it, and agrees to return it on the Friday evening, with 1_s._ interest for the loan. This he always pays back. If he was to sell the coat off his back he would do this, I am told, because to fail in so doing would be to prevent his obtaining any stock-money for the future. With this capital he starts on his rounds about eight in the morning, and I am assured he will frequently begin his work without tasting food, rather than break into the borrowed stock-money. Each man has his particular walk, and never interferes with that of his neighbour; indeed, while upon another’s beat he will seldom cry for clothes. Sometimes they go half “Rybeck” together--that is, they will share the profits of the day’s business, and when they agree to do this the one will take one street, and the other another. The lower the neighbourhood the more old clothes are there for sale. At the east end of the town they like the neighbourhoods frequented by sailors, and there they purchase of the girls and the women the sailors’ jackets and trowsers. But they buy most of the Petticoat-lane, the Old-Clothes Exchange, and the marine-store dealers; for as the Jew clothes man never travels the streets by night-time, the parties who then have old clothes to dispose of usually sell them to the marine-store or second-hand dealers over-night, and the Jew buys them in the morning. The first thing that he does on his rounds is to seek out these shops, and see what he can pick up there. A very great amount of business is done by the Jew clothes man at the marine-store shops at the west as well as at the east end of London.

At the West-end the itinerant clothes men prefer the mews at the back of gentlemen’s houses to all other places, or else the streets where the little tradesmen and small genteel families reside. My informant assured me that he had once bought a Bishop’s hat of his lordship’s servant for 1_s._ 6_d._ on a Sunday morning.

These traders, as I have elsewhere stated, live at the East-end of the town. The greater number of them reside in Portsoken Ward, Houndsditch; and their favourite localities in this district are either Cobb’s-yard, Roper’s-building, or Wentworth-street. They mostly occupy small houses, about 4_s._ 6_d._ a week rent, and live with their families. They are generally sober men. It is seldom that a Jew leaves his house and owes his landlord money; and if his goods should be seized the rest of his tribe will go round and collect what is owing.

The rooms occupied by the old-clothes men are far from being so comfortable as those of the English artizans whose earnings are not superior to the gains of these clothes men. Those which I saw had all a littered look; the furniture was old and scant, and the apartment seemed neither shop, parlour, nor bed-room. For domestic and family men, as some of the Jew old-clothes men are, they seem very indifferent to the comforts of a home.

I have spoken of “Tryfer,” or meat killed in the Christian fashion. Now, the meat killed according to the Jewish law is known as “Coshar,” and a strict Jew will eat none other. In one of my letters in the Morning Chronicle on the meat markets of London, there appeared the following statement, respecting the Jew butchers in Whitechapel-market.

“To a portion of the meat here exposed for sale, may be seen attached the peculiar seal which shows that the animal was killed conformably to the Jewish rites. According to the injunctions of this religion the beast must die from its throat being cut, instead of being knocked on the head. The slaughterer of the cattle for Jewish consumption, moreover, must be a Jew. Two slaughterers are appointed by the Jewish authorities of the synagogue, and they can employ others, who must be likewise Jews, as assistants. The slaughterers I saw were quiet-looking and quiet-mannered men. When the animal is slaughtered and skinned, an examiner (also appointed by the synagogue) carefully inspects the ‘inside.’ ‘If the lights be grown to the ribs,’ said my informant, who had had many years’ experience in this branch of the meat trade, ‘or if the lungs have any disease, or if there be any disease anywhere, the meat is pronounced unfit for the food of the Jews, and is sent entire to a carcase butcher to be sold to the Christians. This, however, does not happen once in 20 times.’ To the parts exposed for sale, when the slaughtering has been according to the Jewish law, there is attached a leaden seal, stamped in Hebrew characters with the name of the examining party sealing. In this way, as I ascertained from the slaughterers, are killed weekly from 120 to 140 bullocks, from 400 to 500 sheep and lambs, and about 30 calves. All the parts of the animal thus slaughtered may be and are eaten by the Jews, but three-fourths of the purchase of this meat is confined, as regards the Jews, to the fore-quarters of the respective animals; the hind-quarters, being the choicer parts, are sent to Newgate or Leadenhall-markets for sale on commission.” The Hebrew butchers consider that the Christian mode of slaughter is a far less painful death to the ox than was the Jewish.

I am informed that of the Jew Old-Clothes Men there are now only from 500 to 600 in London; at one time there might have been 1000. Their average earnings may be something short of 20_s._ a week in second-hand clothes alone; but the gains are difficult to estimate.

OF A JEW STREET-SELLER.

An elderly man, who, at the time I saw him, was vending spectacles, or bartering them for old clothes, old books, or any second-hand articles, gave me an account of his street-life, but it presented little remarkable beyond the not unusual vicissitudes of the lives of those of his class.

He had been in every street-trade, and had on four occasions travelled all over England, selling quills, sealing-wax, pencils, sponges, braces, cheap or superior jewellery, thermometers, and pictures. He had sold barometers in the mountainous parts of Cumberland, sometimes walking for hours without seeing man or woman. “I liked it then,” he said, “for I was young and strong, and didn’t care to sleep twice in the same town. I was afterwards in the old-clothes line. I buy a few odd hats and light things still, but I’m not able to carry heavy weights, as my breath is getting rather short.” [I find that the Jews generally object to the more laborious kinds of street-traffic.] “Yes, I’ve been twice to Ireland, and sold a good many quills in Dublin, for I crossed over from Liverpool. Quills and wax were a great trade with us once; now it’s quite different. I’ve had as much as 60_l._ of my own, and that more than half-a-dozen times, but all of it went in speculations. Yes, some went in gambling. I had a share in a gaming-booth at the races, for three years. O, I dare say that’s more than 20 years back; but we did very little good. There was such fees to pay for the tent on a race-ground, and often such delays between the races in the different towns, and bribes to be given to the town-officers--such as town-sergeants and chief constables, and I hardly know who--and so many expenses altogether, that the profits were mostly swamped. Once at Newcastle races there was a fight among the pitmen, and our tent was in their way, and was demolished almost to bits. A deal of the money was lost or stolen. I don’t know how much, but not near so much as my partners wanted to make out. I wasn’t on the spot just at the time. I got married after that, and took a shop in the second-hand clothes line in Bristol, but my wife died in child-bed in less than a year, and the shop didn’t answer; so I got sick of it, and at last got rid of it. O, I work both the country and London still. I shall take a turn into Kent in a day or two. I suppose I clear between 10_s._ and 20_s._ a week in anything, and as I’ve only myself, I do middling, and am ready for another chance if any likely speculation offers. I lodge with a relation, and sometimes live with his family. No, I never touch any meat but ‘Coshar.’ I suppose my meat now costs me 6_d._ or 7_d._ a day, but it has cost me ten times that--and 2_d._ for beer in addition.”

I am informed that there are about 50 adult Jews (besides old-clothes men) in the streets selling fruit, cakes, pencils, spectacles, sponge, accordions, drugs, &c.

OF THE JEW-BOY STREET-SELLERS.

I have ascertained, and from sources where no ignorance on the subject could prevail, that there are now in the streets of London, rather more than 100 Jew-boys engaged principally in fruit and cake-selling in the streets. Very few Jewesses are itinerant street-sellers. Most of the older Jews thus engaged have been street-sellers from their boyhood. The young Jews who ply in street-callings, however, are all men in matters of traffic, almost before they cease, in years, to be children. In addition to the Jew-boy street-sellers above enumerated, there are from 50 to 100, but usually about 50, who are occasional, or “casual” street-traders, vending for the most part cocoa-nuts and grapes, and confining their sales chiefly to the Sundays.

On the subject of the street-Jew boys, a Hebrew gentleman said to me: “When we speak of street-Jew boys, it should be understood, that the great majority of them are but little more conversant with or interested in the religion of their fathers, than are the costermonger boys of whom you have written. They are Jews by the accident of their birth, as others in the same way, with equal ignorance of the assumed faith, are Christians.”

I received from a Jew boy the following account of his trading pursuits and individual aspirations. There was somewhat of a thickness in his utterance, otherwise his speech was but little distinguishable from that of an English street-boy. His physiognomy was decidedly Jewish, but not of the handsomer type. His hair was light-coloured, but clean, and apparently well brushed, without being oiled, or, as I heard a street-boy style it, “greased”; it was long, and he said his aunt told him it “wanted cutting sadly;” but he “liked it that way;” indeed, he kept dashing his curls from his eyes, and back from his temples, as he was conversing, as if he were somewhat vain of doing so. He was dressed in a corduroy suit, old but not ragged, and wore a tolerably clean, very coarse, and altogether buttonless shirt, which he said “was made for one bigger than me, sir.” He had bought it for 9-1/2_d._ in Petticoat-lane, and accounted it a bargain, as its wear would be durable. He was selling sponges when I saw him, and of the commonest kind, offering a large piece for 3_d._, which (he admitted) would be rubbed to bits in no time. This sponge, I should mention, is frequently “dressed” with sulphuric acid, and an eminent surgeon informed me that on his servant attempting to clean his black dress coat with a sponge that he had newly bought in the streets, the colour of the garment, to his horror, changed to a bright purple. The Jew boy said--

“I believe I’m twelve. I’ve been to school, but it’s long since, and my mother was very ill then, and I was forced to go out in the streets to have a chance. I never was kept to school. I can’t read; I’ve forgot all about it. I’d rather now that I could read, but very likely I could soon learn if I could only spare time, but if I stay long in the house I feel sick; it’s not healthy. O, no, sir, inside or out it would be all the same to me, just to make a living and keep my health. I can’t say how long it is since I began to sell, it’s a good long time; one must do something. I could keep myself now, and do sometimes, but my father--I live with him (my mother’s dead) is often laid up. Would you like to see him, sir? He knows a deal. No, he can’t write, but he can read a little. Can I speak Hebrew? Well, I know what you mean. O, no, I can’t. I don’t go to synagogue; I haven’t time. My father goes, but only sometimes; so he says, and he tells me to look out, for we must both go by-and-by.” [I began to ask him what he knew of Joseph, and others recorded in the Old Testament, but he bristled up, and asked if I wanted to make a Meshumet (a convert) of him?] “I have sold all sorts of things,” he continued, “oranges, and lemons, and sponges, and nuts, and sweets. I should like to have a real good ginger-beer fountain of my own; but I must wait, and there’s many in the trade. I only go with boys of my own sort. I sell to all sorts of boys, but that’s nothing. Very likely they’re Christians, but that’s nothing to me. I don’t know what’s the difference between a Jew and Christian, and I don’t want to talk about it. The Meshumets are never any good. Anybody will tell you that. Yes, I like music and can sing a bit. I get to a penny and sometimes a two-penny concert. No, I haven’t been to Sussex Hall--I know where it is--I shouldn’t understand it. You get in for nothing, that’s one thing. I’ve heard of Baron Rothschild. He has more money than I could count in shillings in a year. I don’t know about his wanting to get into parliament, or what it means; but he’s sure to do it or anything else, with his money. He’s very charitable, I’ve heard. I don’t know whether he’s a German Jew, or a Portegee, or what. He’s a cut above me, a precious sight. I only wish he was my uncle. I can’t say what I should do if I had his money. Perhaps I should go a travelling, and see everything everywhere. I don’t know how long the Jews have been in England; always perhaps. Yes, I know there’s Jews in other countries. This sponge is Greek sponge, but I don’t know where it’s grown, only it’s in foreign parts. Jerusalem! Yes, I’ve heard of it. I’m of no tribe that I know of. I buy what I eat about Petticoat-lane. No, I don’t like fish, but the stews, and the onions with them is beautiful for two-pence; you may get a pennor’th. The pickles--cowcumbers is best--are stunning. But they’re plummiest with a bit of cheese or anything cold--that’s my opinion, but you may think different. Pork! Ah! No, I never touched it; I’d as soon eat a cat; so would my father. No, sir, I don’t think pork smells nice in a cook-shop, but some Jew boys, as I knows, thinks it does. I don’t know why it shouldn’t be eaten, only that it’s wrong to eat it. No, I never touched a ham-sandwich, but other Jew boys have, and laughed at it, I know.

“I don’t know what I make in a week. I think I make as much on one thing as on another. I’ve sold strawberries, and cherries, and gooseberries, and nuts and walnuts in the season. O, as to what I make, that’s nothing to nobody. Sometimes 6_d._ a day, sometimes 1_s._; sometimes a little more, and sometimes nothing. No, I never sells inferior things if I can help it, but if one hasn’t stock-money one must do as one can, but it isn’t so easy to try it on. There was a boy beaten by a woman not long since for selling a big pottle of strawberries that was rubbish all under the toppers. It was all strawberry leaves, and crushed strawberries, and such like. She wanted to take back from him the two-pence she’d paid for it, and got hold of his pockets and there was a regular fight, but she didn’t get a farthing back though she tried her very hardest, ’cause he slipped from her and hooked it. So you see it’s dangerous to try it on.” [This last remark was made gravely enough, but the lad told of the feat with such manifest glee, that I’m inclined to believe that he himself was the culprit in question.] “Yes, it was a Jew boy it happened to, but other boys in the streets is just the same. Do I like the streets? I can’t say I do, there’s too little to be made in them. No, I wouldn’t like to go to school, nor to be in a shop, nor be anybody’s servant but my own. O, I don’t know what I shall be when I’m grown up. I shall take my chance like others.”

OF THE PURSUITS, DWELLINGS, TRAFFIC, ETC., OF THE JEW-BOY STREET-SELLERS.

To speak of the street Jew-boys as regards their traffic, manners, haunts, and associations, is to speak of the same class of boys who may not be employed regularly in street-sale, but are the comrades of those who are; a class, who, on any cessation of their employment in cigar manufactories, or indeed any capacity, will apply themselves temporarily to street-selling, for it seems to these poor and uneducated lads a sort of natural vocation.

These youths, uncontrolled or incontrollable by their parents (who are of the lowest class of the Jews, and who often, I am told, care little about the matter, so long as the child can earn his own maintenance), frequently in the evenings, after their day’s work, resort to coffee-shops, in preference even to a cheap concert-room. In these places they amuse themselves as men might do in a tavern where the landlord leaves his guests to their own caprices. Sometimes one of them reads aloud from some exciting or degrading book, the lads who are unable to read listening with all the intentness with which many of the uneducated attend to any one reading. The reading is, however, not unfrequently interrupted by rude comments from the listeners. If a newspaper be read, the “police,” or “crimes,” are mostly the parts preferred. But the most approved way of passing the evening, among the Jew boys, is to play at draughts, dominoes, or cribbage, and to bet on the play. Draughts and dominoes are unpractised among the costermonger boys, but some of the young Jews are adepts in those games.

A gentleman who took an interest in the Jew lads told me that he had often heard the sort of reading and comments I have described, when he had called to talk to and perhaps expostulate with, these youths in a coffee-shop, but he informed me that they seldom regarded any expostulation, and seemed to be little restrained by the presence of a stranger, the lads all muttering and laughing in a box among themselves. I saw seven of them, a little after eight in the evening, in a coffee-shop in the London-road,--although it is not much of a Jewish locality,--and two of them were playing at draughts for coffee, while the others looked on, betting halfpennies or pennies with all the eagerness of gamblers, unrestrained in their expressions of delight or disappointment as they thought they were winning or losing, and commenting on the moves with all the assurance of connoisseurship; sometimes they squabbled angrily and then suddenly dropped their voices, as the master of the coffee-shop had once or twice cautioned them to be quiet.

The dwellings of boys such us these are among the worst in London, as regards ventilation, comfort, or cleanliness. They reside in the courts and recesses about Whitechapel and Petticoat-lane, and generally in a garret. If not orphans they usually dwell with their father. I am told that the care of a mother is almost indispensable to a poor Jew boy, and having that care he seldom becomes an outcast. The Jewesses and Jew girls are rarely itinerant street-sellers--not in the proportion of one to twelve, compared with the men and boys; in this respect therefore the street Jews differ widely from the English costermongers and the street Irish, nor are the Hebrew females even stall-keepers in the same proportion.

One Jew boy’s lodging which I visited was in a back garret, low and small. The boy lived with his father (a street-seller of fruit), and the room was very bare. A few sacks were thrown over an old palliass, a blanket seemed to be used for a quilt; there were no fire-irons nor fender; no cooking utensils. Beside the bed was an old chest, serving for a chair, while a board resting on a trestle did duty for a table (this was once, I presume, a small street-stall). The one not very large window was thick with dirt and patched all over. Altogether I have seldom seen a more wretched apartment. The man, I was told, was addicted to drinking.

The callings of which the Jew boys have the monopoly are not connected with the sale of any especial article, but rather with such things as present a variety from those ordinarily offered in the streets, such as cakes, sweetmeats, fried fish, and (in the winter) elder wine. The cakes known as “boolers”--a mixture of egg, flour, and candied orange or lemon peel, cut very thin, and with a slight colouring from saffron or something similar--are now sold principally, and used to be sold exclusively, by the Jew boys. Almond cakes (little round cakes of crushed almonds) are at present vended by the Jew boys, and their sponge biscuits are in demand. All these dainties are bought by the street-lads of the Jew pastry-cooks. The difference in these cakes, in their sweetmeats, and their elder wine, is that there is a dash of spice about them not ordinarily met with. It is the same with the fried fish, a little spice or pepper being blended with the oil. In the street-sale of pickles the Jews have also the monopoly; these, however, are seldom hawked, but generally sold from windows and door-steads. The pickles are cucumbers or gherkins, and onions--a large cucumber being 2_d._, and the smaller 1_d._ and 1/2_d._

The faults of the Jew lad are an eagerness to make money by any means, so that he often grows up a cheat, a trickster, a receiver of stolen goods, though seldom a thief, for he leaves that to others. He is content to profit by the thief’s work, but seldom steals himself, however he may cheat. Some of these lads become rich men; others are vagabonds all their lives. None of the Jew lads confine themselves to the sale of any one article, nor do they seem to prefer one branch of street-traffic to another. Even those who cannot read are exceedingly quick.

I may here observe in connection with the receipt of stolen goods, that I shall deal with this subject in my account of the LONDON THIEVES. I shall also show the connection of Jewesses and Jews with the prostitution of the metropolis, in my forthcoming exposition of the LONDON PROSTITUTES.

OF THE STREET JEWESSES AND STREET JEW-GIRLS.

I have mentioned that the Jewesses and the young Jew girls, compared with the adult Jews and Jew boys, are not street-traders in anything like the proportion which the females were found to bear to the males among the Irish street-folk and the English costermongers. There are, however, a few Jewish females who are itinerant street-sellers as well as stall keepers, in the proportion, perhaps, of one female to seven or eight males. The majority of the street Jew-girls whom I saw on a round were accompanied by boys who were represented to be their brothers, and I have little doubt such was the facts, for these young Jewesses, although often pert and ignorant, are not unchaste. Of this I was assured by a medical gentleman who could speak with sufficient positiveness on the subject.

Fruit is generally sold by these boys and girls together, the lad driving the barrow, and the girl inviting custom and handing the purchases to the buyers. In tending a little stall or a basket at a regular pitch, with such things as cherries or strawberries, the little Jewess differs only from her street-selling sisters in being a brisker trader. The stalls, with a few old knives or scissors, or odds and ends of laces, that are tended by the Jew girls in the streets in the Jewish quarters (I am told there are not above a dozen of them) are generally near the shops and within sight of their parents or friends. One little Jewess, with whom I had some conversation, had not even heard the name of the Chief Rabbi, the Rev. Dr. Adler, and knew nothing of any distinction between German and Portuguese Jews; she had, I am inclined to believe, never heard of either. I am told that the whole, or nearly the whole, of these young female traders reside with parents or friends, and that there is among them far less than the average number of runaways. One Jew told me he thought that the young female members of his tribe did not tramp with the juveniles of the other sex--no, not in the proportion of one to a hundred in comparison, he said with a laugh, with “young women of the Christian persuasion.” My informant had means of knowing this fact, as although still a young man, he had traversed the greater part of England hawking perfumery, which he had abandoned as a bad trade. A wire-worker, long familiar with tramping and going into the country--a man upon whose word I have every reason to rely--told me that he could not remember a single instance of his having seen a young Jewess “travelling” with a boy.

There are a few adult Jewesses who are itinerant traders, but very few. I met with one who carried on her arm a not very large basket, filled with glass wares; chiefly salt-cellars, cigar-ash plates, blue glass dessert plates, vinegar-cruets, and such like. The greater part of her wares appeared to be blue, and she carried nothing but glass. She was a good-looking and neatly-dressed woman. She peeped in at each shop-door, and up at the windows of every private house, in the street in which I met her, crying, “Clo’, old clo’!” She bartered her glass for old clothes, or bought the garments, dealing principally in female attire, and almost entirely with women. She declined to say anything about her family or her circumstances, except that she had nothing that way to complain about, but--when I had used some names I had authority to make mention of--she said she would, with pleasure, tell me all about her trade, which she carried on rather than do nothing. “When I hawk,” she said with an English accent, her face being unmistakeably Jewish, “I hawk only good glass, and it can hardly be called hawking, as I swop it for more than I sell it. I always ask for the mistress, and if she wants any of my glass we come to a bargain if we can. O, it’s ridiculous to see what things some ladies--I suppose they must be called ladies--offer for my glass. Children’s green or blue gauze veils, torn or faded, and not worth picking up, because no use whatever; old ribbons, not worth dyeing, and old frocks, not worth washing. People say, ‘as keen as a Jew,’ but ladies can’t think we’re very keen when they offer us such rubbish. I do most at the middle kind of houses, both shops and private. I sometimes give a little money for such a thing as a shawl, or a fur tippet, as well as my glass--but only when I can’t help it--to secure a bargain. Sometimes, but not often, I get the old thing and a trifle for my glass. Occasionally I buy outright. I don’t do much, there’s so many in the line, and I don’t go out regularly. I can’t say how many women are in my way--very few; O, I do middling. I told you I had no complaints to make. I don’t calculate my profits or what I sell. My family do that and I don’t trouble myself.”

OF THE SYNAGOGUES AND THE RELIGION OF THE STREET AND OTHER JEWS.

The Jews in this country are classed as “Portuguese” and “German.” Among them are no distinctions of tribes, but there is of rites and ceremonies, as is set forth in the following extract (which shows also the mode of government) from a Jewish writer: “The Spanish and Portuguese Congregation of Jews, who are also called Sephardin (from the word Sepharad, which signifies Spain in Hebrew), are distinct from the German and Polish Jews in their ritual service. The prayers both daily and for the Sabbath materially differ from each other, and the festival prayers differ still more. Hence the Portuguese Jews have a distinct prayer-book, and the German Jews likewise.

“The fundamental laws are equally observed by both sects, but in the ceremonial worship there exists numerous differences. The Portuguese Jews eat some food during the Passover, which the German Jews are prohibited doing by some Rabbis, but their authority is not acknowledged by the Portuguese Rabbis. Nor are the present ecclesiastical authorities in London of the two sects the same. The Portuguese Jews have their own Rabbis, and the German have their own. The German Jews are much more numerous than the Portuguese; the chief Rabbi of the German Jews is the Rev. Dr. Nathan Marcus Adler, late Chief Rabbi of Hanover, who wears no beard, and dresses in the German costume. The presiding Rabbi of the Portuguese Jews is the Rev. David Meldola, a native of Leghorn; his father filled the same office in London. Each chief Rabbi is supported by three other Rabbis, called Dayamin, which signifies in Hebrew ‘Judges.’ Every Monday and Thursday the Chief Rabbi of the German Jews, Dr. Adler, supported by his three colleagues, sits for two hours in the Rabbinical College (Beth Hamedrash), Smith’s-buildings, Leadenhall-street, to attend to all applications from the German Jews, which may be brought before him, and which are decided according to the Jewish law. Many disputes between Jews in religious matters are settled in this manner; and if the Lord Mayor or any other magistrate is told that the matter has already been settled by the Jewish Rabbi he seldom interferes. This applies only to civil and not to criminal cases. The Portuguese Jews have their own hospital and their own schools. Both congregations have their representatives in the Board of Deputies of British Jews, which board is acknowledged by government, and is triennial. Sir Moses Montefiore, a Jew of great wealth, who distinguished himself by his mission to Damascus, during the persecution of the Jews in that place, and also by his mission to Russia, some years ago, is the President of the Board. All political matters, calling for communications with government, are within the province of that useful board.”

The Jews have eight synagogues in London, besides some smaller places which may perhaps, adopting the language of another church, be called synagogues of ease. The great synagogue in Duke’s-place (a locality of which I have often had to speak) is the largest, but the new synagogue, St. Helen’s, Bishopgate, is the one which most betokens the wealth of the worshippers. It is rich with ornaments, marble, and painted glass; the pavement is of painted marble, and presents a perfect round, while the ceiling is a half dome. There are besides these the Hamburg Synagogue, in Fenchurch-street; the Portuguese Synagogue, in Bevis-marks; two smaller places, in Cutler-street and Gun-yard, Houndsditch, known as Polish Synagogues; the Maiden-lane (Covent-garden), Synagogue; the Western Synagogue, St. Alban’s-place, Pall-mall; and the West London Synagogue of British Jews, Margaret-street, Cavendish-square. The last-mentioned is the most aristocratic of the synagogues. The service there is curtailed, the ritual abbreviated, and the days of observance of the Jewish festival reduced from two to one. This alteration is strongly protested against by the other Jews, and the practices of this synagogue seem to show a yielding to the exactions or requirements of the wealthy. In the old days, and in almost every country in Europe, it was held to be sinful even for a king--reverenced and privileged as such a potentate then was--to prosecute any undertaking before he heard mass. In some states it was said in reproach of a noble or a sovereign, “he breakfasts before he hears mass,” and, to meet the impatience of the Great, “hunting masses,” as they were styled, or epitomes of the full service, were introduced. The Jews, some eight or nine years back in this country, seem to have followed this example; such was the case, at least, as regards London and the wealthier of the professors of this ancient faith.

The synagogues are not well attended, the congregations being smaller in proportion to the population than those of the Church of England. Neither, during the observance of the Jewish worship, is there any especial manifestation of the service being regarded as of a sacred and divinely-ordained character. There is a buzzing talk among the attendants during the ceremony, and an absence of seriousness and attention. Some of the Jews, however, show the greatest devotion, and the same may be said of the Jewesses, who sit apart in the synagogues, and are not required to attend so regularly as the men.

I should not have alluded to this absence of the solemnities of devotion, as regards the congregations of the Hebrews, had I not heard it regretted by Hebrews themselves. “It is shocking,” one said. Another remarked, “To attend the synagogue is looked upon too much as a matter of business; but perhaps there is the same spirit in some of the Christian churches.”

As to the street-Jews, religion is little known among them, or little cared for. They are indifferent to it--not to such a degree, indeed, as the costermongers, for they are not so ignorant a class--but yet contrasting strongly in their neglect with the religious intensity of the majority of the Roman Catholic Irish of the streets. In common justice I must give the remark of a Hebrew merchant with whom I had some conversation on the subject:--“I can’t say much about street-Jews, for my engagements lead me away from them, and I don’t know much about street-Christians. But if out of a hundred Jews you find that only ten of them care for their religion, how many out of a hundred Christians of any sort will care about theirs? Will ten of them care? If you answer, but they are only nominal Christians, my reply is, the Jews are only nominal Jews--Jews by birth, and not by faith.”

Among the Jews I conversed with--and of course only the more intelligent understood, or were at all interested in, the question--I heard the most contemptuous denunciation of all converts from Judaism. One learned informant, who was by no means blind to the short-comings of his own people, expressed his conviction that no Jew had ever been really converted. He had abandoned his faith from interested motives. On this subject I am not called upon to express any opinion, and merely mention it to show a prevalent feeling among the class I am describing.

The street-Jews, including the majority of the more prosperous and most numerous class among them, the old-clothes men, are far from being religious in feeling, or well versed in their faith, and are, perhaps, in that respect on a level with the mass of the members of the Church of England; I say of the Church of England, because of that church the many who do not profess religion are usually accounted members.

In the Rabbinical College, I may add, is the finest Jewish library in the world. It has been collected for several generations under the care of the Chief Rabbis. The public are admitted, having first obtained tickets, given gratuitously, at the Chief Rabbi’s residence in Crosby-square.

OF THE POLITICS, LITERATURE, AND AMUSEMENTS OF THE JEWS.

Perhaps there is no people in the world, possessing the average amount of intelligence in busy communities, who care so little for politics as the general body of the Jews. The wealthy classes may take an interest in the matter, but I am assured, and by those who know their countrymen well, that even with them such a quality as patriotism is a mere word. This may be accounted for in a great measure, perhaps, from an hereditary feeling. The Jew could hardly be expected to love a land, or to strive for the promotion of its general welfare, where he felt he was but a sojourner, and where he was at the best but tolerated and often proscribed. But this feeling becomes highly reprehensible when it extends--as I am assured it does among many of the rich Jews--to their own people, for whom, apart from conventionalities, say my informants, they care nothing whatever; for so long as they are undisturbed in money-getting at home, their brethren may be persecuted all over the world, while the rich Jew merely shrugs his shoulders. An honourable exception, however, exists in Sir Moses Montefiore, who has honourably distinguished himself in the relief of his persecuted brethren on more than one occasion. The great of the earth no longer spit upon the gabardine of the Jewish millionaire, nor do they draw his teeth to get his money, but the great Jew capitalists, with powerful influence in many a government, do not seek to direct that influence for the bettering of the lot of their poorer brethren, who, at the same time, brook the restrictions and indignities which they have to suffer with a perfect philosophy. In fact, the Jews have often been the props of the courts who have persecuted them; that is to say, two or three Jewish firms occasionally have not hesitated to lend millions to the governments by whom they and their people have been systematically degraded and oppressed.

I was told by a Hebrew gentleman (a professional man) that so little did the Jews themselves care for “Jewish emancipation,” that he questioned if one man in ten, actuated solely by his own feelings, would trouble himself to walk the length of the street in which he lived to secure Baron Rothschild’s admission into the House of Commons. This apathy, my informant urged with perfect truth, in nowise affected the merits of the question, though he was convinced it formed a great obstacle to Baron Rothschild’s success; “for governments,” he said, “won’t give boons to people who don’t care for them; and, though this is called a boon, I look upon it as only a right.”

When such is the feeling of the comparatively wealthier Jews, no one can wonder that I found among the Jewish street-sellers and old-clothes men with whom I talked on the subject--and their more influential brethren gave me every facility to prosecute my inquiry among them--a perfect indifference to, and nearly as perfect an ignorance of, politics. Perhaps no men buy so few newspapers, and read them so little, as the Jews generally. The street-traders, when I alluded to the subject, said they read little but the “Police Reports.”

Among the body of the Jews there is little love of Literature. They read far less (let it be remembered I have acquired all this information from Jews themselves, and from men who could not be mistaken in the matter), and are far less familiar with English authorship, either historical or literary, than are the poorer English artizans. Neither do the wealthiest classes of the Jews care to foster literature among their own people. One author, a short time ago, failing to interest the English Jews, to promote the publication of his work, went to the United States, and his book was issued in Philadelphia, the city of Quakers!

The Amusements of the Jews--and here I speak more especially of the street or open-air traders--are the theatres and concert-rooms. The City of London Theatre, the Standard Theatre, and other playhouses at the East-end of London, are greatly resorted to by the Jews, and more especially by the younger members of the body, who sometimes constitute a rather obstreperous gallery. The cheap concerts which they patronize are generally of a superior order, for the Jews are fond of music, and among them have been many eminent composers and performers, so that the trash and jingle which delights the costermonger class would not please the street Jew boys; hence their concerts are superior to the general run of cheap concerts, and are almost always “got up” by their own people.

Sussex-hall, in Leadenhall-street, is chiefly supported by Israelites; there the “Jews’ and General Literary and Scientific Institution” is established, with reading-rooms and a library; and there lectures, concerts, &c., are given as at similar institutions. Of late, on every Friday evening, Sussex-hall has been thrown open to the general public, without any charge for admission, and lectures have been delivered gratuitously, on literature, science, art, and general subjects, which have attracted crowded audiences. The lecturers are chiefly Jews, but the lectures are neither theological nor sectarian. The lecturers are Mr. M. H. Bresslau, the Rev. B. H. Ascher, Mr. J. L. Levison (of Brighton), and Mr. Clarke, a merchant in the City, a Christian, whose lectures are very popular among the Jews. The behaviour of the Jew attendants, and the others, the Jews being the majority, is decorous. They seem “to like to receive information,” I was told; and a gentleman connected with the hall argued that this attention showed a readiness for proper instruction, when given in an attractive form, which favoured the opinion that the young Jews, when not thrown in childhood into the vortex of money-making, were very easily teachable, while their natural quickness made them both ready and willing to be taught.

My old-clothes buying informant mentioned a Jewish eating-house. I visited one in the Jew quarter, but saw nothing to distinguish it from Christian resorts of the same character and cheapness (the “plate” of good hot meat costing 4_d._, and vegetables 1_d._), except that it was fuller of Jews than of Christians, by three to two, perhaps, and that there was no “pork” in the waiter’s specification of the fare.

OF THE CHARITIES, SCHOOLS, AND EDUCATION OF THE JEWS.

The Jewish charities are highly honourable to the body, for they allow none of their people to live or die in a parish workhouse. It is true that among the Jews in London there are many individuals of immense wealth; but there are also many rich Christians who care not one jot for the need of their brethren. It must be borne in mind also, that not only do the Jews voluntarily support their own poor and institutions, but they contribute--compulsorily it is true--their quota to the support of the English poor and church; and, indeed, pay their due proportion of all the parliamentary or local imposts. This is the more honourable and the more remarkable among the Jews, when we recollect their indisputable greed of money.

If a Jew be worn out in his old age, and unable to maintain himself, he is either supported by the contributions of his friends, or out of some local or general fund, or provided for in some asylum, and all this seems to be done with a less than ordinary fuss and display, so that the recipient of the charity feels himself more a pensioner than a pauper.

The Jews’ Hospital, in the Mile-end Road, is an extensive building, into which feeble old men and destitute children of both sexes are admitted. Here the boys are taught trades, and the girls qualified for respectable domestic service. The Widows’ Home, in Duke-street, Aldgate, is for poor Hebrew widows. The Orphan Asylum, built at the cost of Mr. A. L. Moses, and supported by subscription, now contains 14 girls and 8 boys; a school is attached to the asylum, which is in the Tenter Ground, Goodman’s-fields. The Hand-in-Hand Asylum, for decayed old people, men and women, is in Duke’s-place, Aldgate. There are likewise alms-houses for the Jews, erected also by Mr. A. L. Moses, at Mile-end, and other alms-houses, erected by Mr. Joel Emanuel, in Wellclose-square, near the Tower. There are, further, three institutions for granting marriage dowers to fatherless children; an institution in Bevis-marks, for the burial of the poor of the congregation; “Beth Holim;” a house for the reception of the sick poor, and of poor lying-in women belonging to the congregation of the Spanish and Portuguese Jews; “Magasim Zobim,” for lending money to aid apprenticeships among boys, to fit girls for good domestic service, and for helping poor children to proceed to foreign parts, when it is believed that the change will be advantageous to them; and “Noten Lebem Larcebim;” to distribute bread to the poor of the congregation on the day preceding the Sabbath.

I am assured that these institutions are well-managed, and that, if the charities are abused by being dispensed to undeserving objects, it is usually with the knowledge of the managers, who often let the abuse pass, as a smaller evil than driving a man to theft or subjecting him to the chance of starvation. One gentleman, familiar with most of these establishments, said to me with a laugh, “I believe, if you have had any conversation with the gentlemen who manage these matters, you will have concluded that they are not the people to be imposed upon very easily.”

There are seven Jewish schools in London, four in the city, and three at the West-end, all supported by voluntary contributions. The Jews’ Free School, in Bell-lane, Spitalfields, is the largest, and is adapted for the education of no fewer than 1200 boys and girls. The late Baroness de Rothschild provided clothing, yearly, for all the pupils in the school. In the Infant School, Houndsditch, are about 400 little scholars. There are also the Orphan Asylum School, previously mentioned; the Western Jewish schools, for girls, in Dean-street, and, for boys, in Greek-street, Soho, but considered as one establishment; and the West Metropolitan School, for girls, in Little Queen-street, and, for boys, in High Holborn, also considered as one establishment.

Notwithstanding these means of education, the body of the poorer, or what in other callings might be termed the working-classes, are not even tolerably well educated; they are indifferent to the matter. With many, the multiplication table seems to constitute what they think the acme of all knowledge needful to a man. The great majority of the Jew boys, in the street, cannot read. A smaller portion can read, but so imperfectly that their ability to read detracts nothing from their ignorance. So neglectful or so necessitous (but I heard the ignorance attributed to neglect far more frequently than necessity) are the poorer Jews, and so soon do they take their children away from school, “to learn and do something for themselves,” and so irregular is their attendance, on the plea that the time cannot be spared, and the boy must do something for himself, that many children leave the free-schools not only about as ignorant as when they entered them, but almost with an incentive to continued ignorance; for they knew nothing of reading, except that to acquire its rudiments is a pain, a labour, and a restraint. On some of the Jew boys the vagrant spirit is strong; they will be itinerants, if not wanderers,--though this is a spirit in no way confined to the Jew boys.

Although the wealthier Jews may be induced to give money towards the support of their poor, I heard strong strictures passed upon them concerning their indifference towards their brethren in all other respects. Even if they subscribed to a school, they never cared whether or not it was attended, and that, much as was done, far more was in the power of so wealthy and distinct a people. “This is all the more inexcusable,” was said to me by a Jew, “because there are so many rich Jews in London, and if they exerted and exercised a broader liberality, as they might in instituting Jewish colleges, for instance, to promote knowledge among the middle-classes, and if they cared more about employing their own people, their liberality would be far more fully felt than similar conduct in a Christian, because they have a smaller sphere to influence. As to employing their own people, there are numbers of the rich Jews who will employ any stranger in preference, if he work a penny a week cheaper. This sort of clan employment,” continued my Jew informant, “should never be exclusive, but there might, I think, be a judicious preference.”

I shall now proceed to set forth an account of the sums yearly subscribed for purposes of education and charity by the Jews.

The Jews’ Free School in Spitalfields is supported by voluntary contributions to the amount of about 1200_l._ yearly. To this sum a few Christians contribute, as to some other Hebrew institutions (which I shall specify), while Jews often are liberal supporters of Christian public charities--indeed, some of the wealthier Jews are looked upon by the members of their own faith as inclined to act more generously where Christian charities, with the prestige of high aristocratic and fashionable patronage, are in question, than towards their own institutions. To the Jews’ Free School the Court of Common Council of the Corporation of London lately granted 100_l._, through the exertions of Mr. Benjamin S. Phillips, of Newgate-street, a member of the court. The Baroness Lionel de Rothschild (as I have formerly stated of the late Baroness) supplies clothing for the scholars. The school is adapted for the reception of 1200 boys and girls in equal proportion; about 900 is the average attendance.

The Jews’ Infant School in Houndsditch, with an average attendance approaching 400, is similarly supported at a cost of from 800_l._ to 1000_l._ yearly.

The Orphan Asylum School, in Goodman’s-fields, receives a somewhat larger support, but in the expenditure is the cost of an asylum (before mentioned, and containing 22 inmates). The funds are about 1500_l._ yearly. Christians subscribe to this institution also--Mr. Frederick Peel, M.P., taking great interest in it. The attendance of pupils is from 300 to 400.

It might be tedious to enumerate the other schools, after having described the principal; I will merely add, therefore, that the yearly contributions to each are from 700_l._ to 1000_l._, and the pupils taught in each from 200 to 400. Of these further schools there are four already specified.

The Jews’ Hospital, at Mile End, is maintained at a yearly cost of about 3000_l._, to which Christians contribute, but not to a twentieth of the amount collected. The persons benefited are worn-out old men, and destitute children, while the number of almspeople is from 150 to 200 yearly.

The other two asylums, &c., which I have specified, are maintained at a cost of about 800_l._ each, as a yearly average, and the Almshouses, three in number, at about half that sum. The persons relieved by these last-mentioned institutions number about 250, two-thirds, or thereabouts, being in the asylums.

The Loan Societies are three: the Jewish Ladies Visiting and Benevolent Loan Society; the Linusarian Loan Society (why called Linusarian a learned Hebrew scholar could not inform me, although he had asked the question of others); and the Magasim Zobim (the Good Deeds), a Portuguese Jews’ Loan Society.

The business of these three societies is conducted on the same principle. Money is lent on personal or any security approved by the managers, and no interest is charged to the borrower. The amount lent yearly is from 600_l._ to 700_l._ by each society, the whole being repaid and with sufficient punctuality; a few weeks’ “grace” is occasionally allowed in the event of illness or any unforeseen event. The Loan Societies have not yet found it necessary to proceed against any of their debtors; my informant thought this forbearance extended over six years.

There is not among the Jewish street-traders, as among the costermongers and others, a class forming part, or having once formed part of themselves, and living by usury and loan mongering, where they have amassed a few pounds. Whatever may be thought of the Jews’ usurious dealings as regards the general public, the poorer classes of their people are not subjected to the exactions of usury, with all its clogs to a struggling man’s well-doing. Sometimes the amount required by an old-clothes man, or other street-trader, is obtained by or for him at one of these loan societies. Sometimes it is advanced by the usual buyer of the second-hand garments collected by the street-Jew. No security in such cases is given beyond--strange as it may sound--the personal honour of an old-clothes man! An experienced man told me, that taking all the class of Jew street-sellers, who are a very fluctuating body, with the exception of the old-clothes men, the sum thus advanced as stock-money to them might be seldom less in any one year than 300_l._, and seldom more than 500_l._ There is a prevalent notion that the poorer Jews, when seeking charity, are supplied with goods for street-sale by their wealthy brethren, and never with money--this appears to be unfounded.

Now to sum up the above items we find that the yearly cost of the Jewish schools is about 7000_l._, supplying the means of instruction to 3000 children (out of a population of 18,000 of all ages, one-half of whom, perhaps, are under 20 years). The yearly outlay in the asylums, &c., is, it appears, 5800_l._ annually, benefiting or maintaining about 420 individuals (at a cost of nearly 14_l._ per head). If we add no more than 200_l._ yearly for the minor charities or institutions I have previously alluded to, we find 14,000_l._ expended annually in the public schools and charities of the Jews of London, independently of about 2000_l._, which is the amount of the loans to those requiring temporary aid.

We have before seen that the number of Jews in London is estimated by the best informed at about 18,000; hence it would appear that the charitable donations of the Jews of London amount on an average to a little less than 1_l._ per head. Let us compare this with the benevolence of the Christians. At the same ratio the sum devoted to the charities of England and Wales should be very nearly 16,000,000_l._, but, according to the most liberal estimates, it does not reach half that amount; the rent of the land and other fixed property, together with the interest of the money left for charitable purposes in England and Wales, is 1,200,000_l._ If, however, we add to the voluntary contributions the sum raised compulsorily by assessment in aid of the poor (about 7,000,000_l._ per annum), the ratio of the English Christian’s contributions to his needy brethren throughout the country will be very nearly the same as that of the Jew’s. Moreover, if we turn our attention to the benevolent bequests and donations of the Christians of London, we shall find that their munificence does not fall far short of that of the metropolitan Jews. The gross amounts of the charitable contributions of London are given below, together with the numbers of institutions; and it will thus be seen that the sum devoted to such purposes amounts to no less than 1,764,733_l._, or upwards of a million and three-quarters sterling for a population of about two millions!

Income Income derived derived from voluntary from contributions. property. 12 General medical hospitals £31,265 £111,641 50 Medical charities for special purposes 27,974 68,690 35 General dispensaries 11,470 2,954 12 Preservation of life and public morals 8,730 2,773 18 Reclaiming the fallen and staying the progress of crime 16,299 13,737 14 Relief of general destitution and distress 20,646 3,234 12 Relief of specified distress 19,473 10,408 14 Aiding the resources of the industrious 4,677 2,569 11 For the blind, deaf, and dumb 11,965 22,797 103 Colleges, hospitals, and other asylums for the aged 5,857 77,190 16 Charitable pension societies 15,790 3,199 74 Charitable and provident, chiefly for specified classes 19,905 83,322 31 Asylums for orphans and other necessitous children 55,466 25,549 10 Educational foundations 15,000 78,112 4 Charitable modern ditto 4,000 9,300 40 School societies, religious books, church aiding, and Christian visitings, &c. 159,853 158,336 35 Bible and missionary 494,494 63,058 ------------------------ 491 Total 1,022,864 741,869

In connection with the statistical part of this subject I may mention that the Chief Rabbis each receive 1200_l._ a year; the Readers of the Synagogues, of whom there are twelve in London, from 300_l._ to 400_l._ a year each; the Secretaries of the Synagogues, of whom there are also twelve, from 200_l._ to 300_l._ each; the twelve under Secretaries from 100_l._ to 150_l._; and six Dayanim 100_l._ a year each. These last-mentioned officers are looked upon by many of the Jews, as the “poor curates” may be by the members of the Church of England--as being exceedingly under-paid. The functions of the Dayanim have been already mentioned, and, I may add, that they must have received expensive scholarly educations, as for about four hours daily they have to read the Talmud in the places of worship.

The yearly payment of these sacerdotal officials, then, independent of other outlay, amounts to about 11,700_l._; this is raised from the profits of the seats in the synagogues and voluntary contributions, donations, subscriptions, bequests, &c., among the Jews.

I have before spoken of a Board of Deputies, in connection with the Jews, and now proceed to describe its constitution. It is not a parliament among the Jews, I am told nor a governing power, but what may be called a directing or regulating body. It is authorized by the body of Jews, and recognised by her Majesty’s Government, as an established corporation, with powers to treat and determine on matters of civil and political policy affecting the condition of the Hebrews in this country, and interferes in no way with religious matters. It is neither a metropolitan nor a local nor a detached board, but, as far as the Jews in England may be so described, a national board. This board is elected triennially. The electors are the “seat-holders” in the Jewish synagogues; that is to say, they belong to the class of Jews who promote the support of the synagogues by renting seats, and so paying towards the cost of those establishments.

There are in England, Ireland, and Scotland, about 1000 of these seat-holders exercising the franchise, or rather entitled to exercise it, but many of them are indifferent to the privilege, as is often testified by the apathy shown on the days of election. Perhaps three-fourths of the privileged number may vote. The services of the representatives are gratuitous, and no qualification is required, but the elected are usually the leading metropolitan Jews. The proportion of the electors voting is in the ratio of the deputies elected. London returns 12 deputies; Liverpool, 2; Manchester, 2; Birmingham, 2; Edinburgh, Dublin, (the only places in either Scotland or Ireland returning deputies), Dover, Portsmouth, Southampton, Plymouth, Canterbury, Norwich, Swansea, Newcastle-on-Tyne, and two other places (according to the number of seat-holders), each one deputy, thus making up the number to 30. On election days the attendance, as I have said, is often small, but fluctuating according to any cause of excitement, which, however, is but seldom.

The question which has of late been discussed by this Board, and which is now under consideration, and negotiation with the Education Commissioners of her Majesty’s Privy Council, is the obtaining a grant of money in the same proportion as it has been granted to other educational establishments. Nothing has as yet been given to the Jewish schools, and the matter is still undetermined.

With religious or sacerdotal questions the Board of Deputies does not, or is not required to meddle; it leaves all such matters to the bodies or tribunals I have mentioned. Indeed the deputies concern themselves only with what may be called the public interests of the Jews, both as a part of the community and as a distinct people. The Jewish institutions, however, are not an exception to the absence of unanimity among the professors of the same creeds, for the members of the Reform Synagogue in Margaret-street, Cavendish-square, are not recognised as entitled to vote, and do not vote, accordingly, in the election of the Jewish deputies. Indeed, the Reform members, whose synagogue was established eight years ago, were formally excommunicated by a declaration of the late Chief Rabbi, but this seems now to be regarded as a mere matter of form, for the members have lately partaken of all the rites to which orthodox Jews are entitled.

OF THE FUNERAL CEREMONIES, FASTS, AND CUSTOMS OF THE JEWS.

The funeral ceremonies of the Jews are among the things which tend to preserve the distinctness and peculiarity of this people. Sometimes, though now rarely, the nearest relatives of the deceased wear sackcloth (a coarse crape), and throw ashes and dust on their hair, for the term during which the corpse remains unburied, this term being the same as among Christians. When the corpse is carried to the Jews’ burial-ground for interment the coffin is frequently opened, and the corpse addressed, in a Hebrew formula, by any relative, friend, or acquaintance who may be present. The words are to the following purport: “If I have done anything that might be offensive--pardon, pardon, pardon.” After that the coffin is carried round the burial-ground in a circuit, children chanting the 90th Psalm in its original Hebrew, “a prayer of Moses, the man of God.” The passages which the air causes to be most emphatic are these verses:--

“3. Thou turnest man to destruction; and sayest, Return, ye children of men.

“4. For a thousand years in thy sight are but as yesterday when it is past, and as a watch in the night.

“5. Thou carriest them away as with a flood; they are as a sleep: in the morning they are like grass which groweth up.

“6. In the morning it flourisheth, and groweth up; in the evening it is cut down, and withereth.

“10. The days of our years are threescore years and ten; and if by reason of strength they be fourscore years, yet is their strength labour and sorrow; for it is soon cut off, and we fly away.”

The coffin is then carried into a tent, and the funeral prayers, in Hebrew, are read. When it has been lowered into the grave, the relatives, and indeed all the attendants at the interment, fill up the grave, shovelling in the earth. In the Jews’ burial-ground are no distinctions, no vaults or provisions for aristocratic sepulture. The very rich and the very poor, the outcast woman and the virtuous and prosperous gentlewoman, “grossly familiar, side by side consume.” A Jewish funeral is a matter of high solemnity.

The burial fees are 12_s._ for children, and from 2_l._ to 3_l._ for adults. These fees are not the property of the parties officiating, but form a portion of the synagogue funds for general purposes, payment of officers, &c. No fees are charged to the relatives of poor Jews.

Two fasts are rigidly observed by the Jews, and even by those Jews who are usually indifferent to the observances of their religion. These are the Black Fast, in commemoration of the destruction of Jerusalem, and the White Fast, in commemoration of the atonement. On each of those occasions the Jews abstain altogether from food for 24 hours, or from sunset to sunset.

OF THE JEW STREET-SELLERS OF ACCORDIONS, AND OF THEIR STREET MUSICAL PURSUITS.

I conclude my account of the Street-Jews with an account of the accordion sellers.

Although the Jews, as a people, are musical, they are little concerned at present either in the sale of musical instruments in the streets, or in street-music or singing. Until within a few years, however, the street-sale of accordions was carried on by itinerant Jews, and had previously been carried on most extensively in the country, even in the far north of England. Some years back well-dressed Jews “travelled” with stocks of accordions. In many country towns and in gentlemen’s country mansions, in taverns, and schools also, these accordions were then a novelty. The Jew could play on the instrument, and carried a book of instructions, which usually formed part of the bargain, and by the aid of which, he made out, any one, even without previous knowledge of the practical art of music, could easily teach himself--nothing but a little practice in fingering being wanted to make a good accordion-player. At first the accordions sold by the Jew hawkers were good, two guineas being no unusual price to be paid for one, even to a street-seller, while ten and twenty shillings were the lower charges. But the accordions were in a few years “made slop,” cheap instruments being sent to this country from Germany, and sold at less than half their former price, until the charge fell as low as 3_s._ 6_d._ or even 2_s._ 6_d._--but only for “rubbish,” I was told. When the fragility and inferior musical qualities of these instruments came to be known, it was found almost impossible to sell in the streets even superior instruments, however reasonable in price, and thus the trade sunk to a nonentity. So little demand is there now for these instruments that no pawnbroker, I am assured, will advance money on one, however well made.

The itinerant accordion trade was always much greater in the country than in London, for in town, I was told, few would be troubled to try, or even listen, to the tones of an accordion played by a street-seller, at their own doors, or in their houses. While there were 100 or 120 Jews hawking accordions in the country, there would not be 20 in London, including even the suburbs, where the sale was the best.

Calculating that, when the trade was at its best, 130 Jews hawked accordions in town and country, and that each sold three a week, at an average price of 20_s._ each, or six in a week at an average price of 10_s._ each, the profit being from 50 to 100 per cent., we find upwards of 20,000_l._ expended in the course of the year in accordions of which, however, little more than a sixth part, or about 3000_l._, was expended in London. This was only when the trade had all the recommendations of novelty, and in the following year perhaps not half the amount was realized. One informant thought that the year 1828-9 was the best for the sale of these instruments, but he spoke only from memory. At the present time I could not find or hear of one street-Jew selling accordions; I remember, however, having seen one within the present year. Most of the Jews who travelled with them have emigrated.

It is very rarely indeed that, fond as the Jews are of music, any of them are to be found in the bands of street-musicians, or of such street-performers as the Ethiopian serenaders. If there be any, I was told, they were probably not pure Jews, but of Christian parentage on one side or the other, and not associating with their own people. At the cheap concert-rooms, however, Jews are frequently singers, but rarely the Jewesses, while some of the twopenny concerts at the East-end are got up and mainly patronized by the poorer class of Jews. Jews are also to be found occasionally among the supernumeraries of the theatres; but, when not professionally engaged, these still live among their own people. I asked one young Jew who occasionally sang at a cheap concert-room, what description of songs they usually sung, and he answered “all kinds.” He, it seems, sang comic songs, but his friend Barney, who had just left him, sang sentimental songs. He earned 1_s._ and sometimes 2_s._, but more frequently 1_s._, three or four nights in the week, as he had no regular engagement. In the daytime he worked at cigar-making, but did not like it, it was “so confining.” He had likewise sung, but gratuitously, at concerts got up for the benefit of any person “bad off.” He knew nothing of the science and art of music. Of the superior class of Jew vocalists and composers, it is not of course necessary here to speak, as they do not come within the scope of my present subject. Of Hebrew youths thus employed in cheap and desultory concert-singing, there are in the winter season, I am told, from 100 to 150, few, if any, depending entirely upon their professional exertions, but being in circumstances similar to those of my young informant.

OF THE STREET-BUYERS OF HOGS’-WASH.

The trade in hogs’-wash, or in the refuse of the table, is by no means insignificant. The street-buyers are of the costermonger class, and some of them have been costermongers, and “when not kept going regular on wash,” I was told, are “costers still,” but with the advantage of having donkeys, ponies, or horses and carts, and frequently shops, as the majority of the wash-buyers have; for they are often greengrocers as well as costermongers.

The hogs’ food obtained by these street-folk, or, as I most frequently heard it called, the “wash,” is procured from the eating-houses, the coffee-houses which are also eating-houses (with “hot joints from 12 to 4”), the hotels, the club-houses, the larger mansions, and the public institutions. It is composed of the scum and lees of all broths and soups; of the washings of cooking utensils, and of the dishes and plates used at dinners and suppers; of small pieces of meat left on the plates of the diners in taverns, clubs, or cook-shops; of pieces of potato, or any remains of vegetables; of any viands, such as puddings, left in the plates in the same manner; of gristle; of pieces of stale bread, or bread left at table; occasionally of meat kept, whether cooked or uncooked, until “blown,” and unfit for consumption (one man told me that he had found whole legs of mutton in the wash he bought from a great eating-house, but very rarely): of potato-peelings; of old and bad potatoes; of “stock,” or the remains of meat stewed for soup, which was not good enough for sale to be re-used by the poor; of parings of every kind of cheese or meat; and of the many things which are considered “only fit for pigs.”

It is not always, however, that the unconsumed food of great houses or of public bodies (where the dinners are a part of the institution) goes to the wash-tub. At Buckingham-palace, I am told, it is given to poor people who have tickets for the receipt of it. At Lincoln’s-inn the refuse or leavings of the bar dinners are sold to men who retail them, usually small chandlers, and the poor people, who have the means, buy this broken meat very readily at 4_d._, 6_d._, and 8_d._ the pound, which is cheap for good cooked meat. Pie-crust, obtained by its purveyors in the same way, is sold, perhaps with a small portion of the contents of the pie, in penny and twopenny-worths. A man familiar with this trade told me that among the best customers for this kind of second-hand food were women of the town of the poorer class, who were always ready, whenever they had a few pence at command, to buy what was tasty, cheap, and ready-cooked, because “they hadn’t no trouble with it, but only just to eat it.”

One of the principal sources of the “wash” supply is the cook-shops, or eating-houses, where the “leavings” on the plates are either the perquisites of the waiters or waitresses, or looked sharply after by master or mistress. There are also in these places the remains of soups, and the potato-peelings, &c., of which I have spoken, together with the keen appropriation to a profitable use of every crumb and scrap--when it is a portion of the gains of a servant, or when it adds to the receipts of the proprietor. In calculating the purchase-value of the good-will of an eating-house, the “wash” is as carefully considered as is the number of daily guests.

One of the principal street-buyers from the eating-houses, and in several parts of town, is Jemmy Divine, of Lambeth. He is a pig-dealer, but also sells his wash to others who keep pigs. He sends round a cart and horse under the care of a boy, or of a man, whom he may have employed, or drives it himself, and he often has more carts than one. In his cart are two or three tubs, well secured, so that they may not be jostled out, into which the wash is deposited. He contracts by the week, month, or quarter, with hotel-keepers and others, for their wash, paying from 10_l._ to as high as 50_l._ a year, about 20_l._ being an average for well-frequented taverns and “dining-rooms.” The wash-tubs on the premises of these buyers are often offensive, sometimes sending forth very sour smells.

In Sharp’s-alley, Smithfield, is another man buying quantities of wash, and buying fat and grease extensively. There is one also in Prince’s-street, Lambeth, who makes it his sole business to collect hogs’-wash; he was formerly a coal-heaver and wretchedly poor, but is now able to make a decent livelihood in this trade, keeping a pony and cart. He generally keeps about 30 pigs, but also sells hogs’ food retail to any pig-keeper, the price being 4_d._ to 6_d._ a pail-full, according to the quality, as the collectors are always anxious to have the wash “rich,” and will not buy it if cabbage-leaves or the parings of green vegetables form a part of it. This man and the others often employ lads to go round for wash, paying them 2_s._ a week, and finding them in board. They are the same class of boys as those I have described as coster-boys, and are often strong young fellows. These lads--or men hired for the purpose--are sometimes sent round to the smaller cook-shops and to private houses, where the wash is given to them for the trouble of carrying it away, in preference to its being thrown down the drain. Sometimes only 1_d._ a pail is paid by the street-buyer, provided the stuff be taken away punctually and regularly. These youths or men carry pails after the fashion of a milkman.

The supply from the workhouses is very large. It is often that the paupers do not eat all the rice-pudding allowed, or all the bread, while soup is frequently left, and potatoes; and these leavings are worthless, except for pig-meat, as they would soon turn sour. It is the same, though not to the same extent, in the prisons.

What I have said of some of the larger eating-houses relates also to the club-houses.

There are a number of wash-buyers in the suburbs, who purchase, or obtain their stock gratuitously, at gentlemen’s houses, and retail it either to those who feed pigs as a business, or else to the many, I was told, who live a little way out of town, and “like to grow their own bacon.” Many of these men perform the work themselves, without a horse and cart, and are on their feet every day and all day long, except on Sundays, carrying hogs’-wash from the seller, or to the buyer. One man, who had been in this trade at Woolwich, told me that he kept pigs at one time, but ceased to do so, as his customers often murmured at the thin quality of the wash, declaring that he gave all the best to his own animals.

If it be estimated that there are 200 men daily buying hogs’-wash in London and the suburbs, within 15 miles, and that each collects only 20 pails per day, paying 2_d._ per pail (thus allowing for what is collected without purchase), we find 10,400_l._ expended annually in buying hogs’-wash.

OF THE STREET-BUYERS OF TEA-LEAVES.

An extensive trade, but less extensive, I am informed, than it was a few years ago, is carried on in tea-leaves, or in the leaves of the herb after their having been subjected, in the usual way, to decoction. These leaves are, so to speak, re-manufactured, in spite of great risk and frequent exposure, and in defiance of the law. The 17th Geo. III., c. 29, is positive and stringent on the subject:--

“Every person, whether a dealer in or seller of tea, or not, who shall dye or fabricate any sloe-leaves, liquorice-leaves or the leaves of tea that have been used, or the leaves of the ash, elder or other tree, shrub or plant, in imitation of tea, or who shall mix or colour such leaves with terra Japonica, copperas, sugar, molasses, clay, logwood or other ingredient, or who shall sell or expose to sale, or have in custody, any such adulterations in imitation of tea, shall for every pound forfeit, on conviction, by the oath of one witness, before one justice, 5_l._; or, on non-payment, be committed to the House of Correction for not more than twelve or less than six months.”

The same act also authorizes a magistrate, on the oath of an excise officer, or any one, by whom he suspects this illicit trade to be carried on, to seize the herbs, or spurious teas, and the whole apparatus that may be found on the premises, the herbs to be burnt and the other articles sold, the proceeds of such a sale, after the payment of expenses, going half to the informer and half to the poor of the parish.

It appears evident, from the words of this act which I have italicised, that the use of tea-leaves for the robbery of the public and the defrauding of the revenue has been long in practice. The extract also shows what other cheats were formerly resorted to--the substitutes most popular with the tea-manufacturers at one time being sloe-leaves. If, however, one-tenth of the statements touching the applications of the leaves of the sloe-tree, and of the juice of its sour, astringent fruit, during the war-time, had any foundation in truth, the sloe must have been regarded commercially as one of the most valuable of our native productions, supplying our ladies with their tea, and our gentlemen with their port-wine.

Women and men, three-fourths of the number being women, go about buying tea-leaves of the female servants in the larger, and of the shopkeepers’ wives in the smaller, houses. But the great purveyors of these things are the charwomen. In the houses where they char the tea-leaves are often reserved for them to be thrown on the carpets when swept, as a means of allaying the dust, or else they form a part of their perquisites, and are often asked for if not offered. The mistress of a coffee-shop told me that her charwoman, employed in cleaning every other morning, had the tea-leaves as a part of her remuneration, or as a matter of course. What the charwoman did with them her employer never inquired, although she was always anxious to obtain them, and she referred me to the poor woman in question. I found her in a very clean apartment on the second floor of a decent house in Somers-town; a strong hale woman, with what may be called an industrious look. She was middle-aged, and a widow, with one daughter, then a nursemaid in the neighbourhood, and had regular employment.

“Yes,” she said, “I get the tea-leaves whenever I can, and the most at two coffee-shops that I work at, but neither of them have so many as they used to have. I think it’s because cocoa’s come so much to be asked for in them, and so they sell less tea. I buy tea-leaves only at one place. It’s a very large family, and I give the servant 4_d._ and sometimes 3_d._ or 2_d._ a fortnight for them, but I’m nothing in pocket, for the young girl is a bit of a relation of mine, and it’s like a trifle of pocket-money for her. She gives a penny every time she goes to her chapel, and so do I; there’s a box for it fixed near the door. O yes, her mistress knows I buy them, for her mistress knew me before she was married, and that’s about 15 or 16 years since. When I’ve got this basin (producing it) full I sell it, generally for 4_d._ I don’t know what the leaves in it will weigh, and I have never sold them by weight, but I believe some have. Perhaps they might weigh, as damp as some of them are, about a pound. I sell them to a chandler now. I have sold them to a rag-and-bottle-shop. I’ve had men and women call upon me and offer to buy them, but not lately, and I never liked the looks of them, and never sold them any. I don’t know what they’re wanted for, but I’ve heard that they’re mixed with new tea. I have nothing to do with that. I get them honestly and sell them honestly, and that’s all I can say about it. Every little helps, and if rich people won’t pay poor people properly, then poor people can’t be expected to be very nice. But I don’t complain, and that’s all I know about it.”

The chandler in question knew nothing of the trade in tea-leaves, he said; he bought none, and he did not know that any of the shopkeepers did, and he could not form a notion what they could be wanted for, if it wasn’t to sweep carpets!

This mode of buying or collecting is, I am told the commonest mode of any, and it certainly presents some peculiarities. The leaves which are to form the spurious tea are collected, in great measure, by a class who are perhaps more likely than any other to have themselves to buy and drink the stuff which they have helped to produce! By charwomen and washer-women a “nice cup of tea” in the afternoon during their work is generally classed among the comforts of existence, yet they are the very persons who sell the tea-leaves which are to make their “much prized beverage.” It is curious to reflect also, that as tea-leaves are used indiscriminately for being re-made into what is considered new tea, what must be the strength of our tea in a few years. Now all housewives complain that twice the quantity of tea is required to make the infusion of the same strength as formerly, and if the collection of old tea-leaves continues, and the refuse leaves are to be dried and re-dried perpetually, surely we must get to use pounds where we now do ounces.

A man formerly in the tea-leaf business, and very anxious not to be known--but upon whose information, I am assured from a respectable source, full reliance may be placed--gave me the following account:--

“My father kept a little shop in the general line, and I helped him; so I was partly brought up to the small way. But I was adrift by myself when I was quite young--18 or so perhaps. I can read and write well enough, but I was rather of too gay a turn to be steady. Besides, father was very poor at times, and could seldom pay me anything, if I worked ever so. He was very fond of his belly too, and I’ve known him, when he’s had a bit of luck, or a run of business, go and stuff hisself with fat roast pork at a cook-shop till he could hardly waddle, and then come home and lock hisself upstairs in his bed-room and sleep three parts of the afternoon. (My mother was dead.) But father was a kind-hearted man for all that, and for all his roast pork, was as thin as a whipping-post. I kept myself when I left him, just off and on like, by collecting grease, and all that; it can’t be done so easy now, I fancy; so I got into the tea-leaf business, but father had nothing to do with it. An elderly sort of a woman who I met with in my collecting, and who seemed to take a sort of fancy to me, put me up to the leaves. She was an out-and-out hand at anything that way herself. Then I bought tea-leaves with other things, for I suppose for four or five years. How long ago is it? O, never mind, sir, a few years. I bought them at many sorts of houses, and carried a box of needles, and odds and ends, as a sort of introduction. There wasn’t much of that wanted though, for I called, when I could, soon in the mornings before the family was up, and some ladies don’t get up till 10 or 11 you know. The masters wasn’t much; it was the mistresses I cared about, because they are often such Tartars to the maids and always a-poking in the way.

“I’ve tried to do business in the great lords’ houses in the squares and about the parks, but there was mostly somebody about there to hinder you. Besides, the servants in such places are often on board wages, and often, when they’re not on board wages, find their own tea and sugar, and little of the tea-leaves is saved when every one has a separate pot of tea; so there’s no good to be done there. Large houses in trade where a number of young men is boarded, drapers or grocers, is among the best places, as there is often a housekeeper there to deal with, and no mistress to bother. I always bought by the lot. If you offered to weigh you would not be able to clear anything, as they’d be sure to give the leaves a extra wetting. I put handfulls of the leaves to my nose, and could tell from the smell whether they were hard drawn or not. When they isn’t hard drawn they answer best, and them I put to one side. I had a bag like a lawyer’s blue bag, with three divisions in it, to put my leaves into, and so keep them ’sunder. Yes, I’ve bought of charwomen, but somehow I think they did’nt much admire selling to me. I hardly know how I made them out, but one told me of another. They like the shops better for their leaves, I think; because they can get a bit of cheese, or snuff, or candles for them there; though I don’t know much about the shop-work in this line. I’ve often been tried to be took in by the servants. I’ve found leaves in the lot offered to me to buy what was all dusty, and had been used for sweeping; and if I’d sold them with my stock they’d have been stopped out of the next money. I’ve had tea-leaves given me by servants oft enough, for I used to sweetheart them a bit, just to get over them; and they’ve laughed, and asked me whatever I could want with them. As for price, why, I judged what a lot was worth, and gave accordingly--from 1_d._ to 1_s._ I never gave more than 1_s._ for any one lot at a time, and that had been put to one side for me in a large concern, for about a fortnight I suppose. I can’t say how many people had been tea’d on them. If it was a housekeeper, or anybody that way, that I bought of, there was never anything said about what they was wanted for. What did I want them for? Why, to sell again; and though him as I sold them to never said so, I knew they was to dry over again. I know nothing about who he was, or where he lived. The woman I told you of sent him to me. I suppose I cleared about 10_s._ a week on them, and did a little in other things beside; perhaps I cleared rather more than 10_s._ on leaves some weeks, and 5_s._ at others. The party as called upon me once a week to buy my leaves was a very polite man, and seemed quite the gentleman. There was no weighing. He examined the lot, and said ‘so much.’ He wouldn’t stand ’bating, or be kept haggling; and his money was down, and no nonsense. What cost me 5_s._ I very likely got three half-crowns for. It was no great trade, if you consider the trouble. I’ve sometimes carried the leaves that he’d packed in papers, and put into a carpet-bag, where there was others, to a coffee-shop; they always had ‘till called for’ marked on a card then. I asked no questions, but just left them. There was two, and sometimes four boys, as used to bring me leaves on Saturday nights. I think they was charwomen’s sons, but I don’t know for a positive, and I don’t know how they made me out. I think I was one of the tip-tops of the trade at one time; some weeks I’ve laid out a sov. (sovereign) in leaves. I haven’t a notion how many’s in the line, or what’s doing now; but much the same I’ve no doubt. I’m glad I’ve done with it.”

I am told by those who are as well-informed on the subject as is perhaps possible, when a surreptitious and dishonest traffic is the subject of inquiry, that although less spurious tea is sold, there are more makers of it. Two of the principal manufacturers have of late, however, been prevented carrying on the business by the intervention of the excise officers. The spurious tea-men are also the buyers of “wrecked tea,” that is, of tea which has been part of the salvage of a wrecked vessel, and is damaged or spoiled entirely by the salt water. This is re-dried and dyed, so as to appear fresh and new. It is dyed with Prussian blue, which gives it what an extensive tea-dealer described to me as an “intensely fine green.” It is then mixed with the commonest Gunpowder teas and with the strongest Young Hysons, and has always a kind of “metallic” smell, somewhat like that of a copper vessel after friction in its cleaning. These teas are usually sold at 4_s._ the pound.

Sloe-leaves for spurious tea, as I have before stated, were in extensive use, but this manufacture ceased to exist about 20 years ago. Now the spurious material consists only of the old tea-leaves, at least so far as experienced tradesmen know. The adulteration is, however, I am assured, more skilfully conducted than it used to be, and its staple is of far easier procuration. The law, though it makes the use of old tea-leaves, as components of what is called tea, punishable, is nevertheless silent as to their sale or purchase; they can be collected, therefore, with a comparative impunity.

The tea-leaves are dried, dyed (or re-dyed), and shrivelled on plates of hot metal, carefully tended. The dyes used are those I have mentioned. These teas, when mixed, are hawked in the country, but not in town, and are sold to the hawkers at 7 lbs. for 21_s._ The quarters of pounds are retailed at 1_s._ A tea-dealer told me that he could recognise this adulterated commodity, but it was only a person skilled in teas who could do so, by its coarse look. For green tea--the mixture to which the prepared leaves are mostly devoted--the old tea is blended with the commonest Gunpowders and Hysons. No dye, I am told, is required when black tea is thus re-made; but I know that plumbago is often used to simulate the bloom. The inferior shopkeepers sell this adulterated tea, especially in neighbourhoods where the poor Irish congregate, or any of the lowest class of the poor English.

To obtain the statistics of a trade which exists in spite not only of the vigilance of the excise and police officers but of public reprobation, and which is essentially a secret trade, is not possible. I heard some, who were likely to be well-informed, conjecture--for it cannot honestly be called more than a conjecture--that between 500 and 1000 lbs., perhaps 700 lbs., of old tea-leaves were made up weekly in London; but of this he thought that about an eighth was spoilt by burning in the process of drying.

Another gentleman, however, thought that, at the very least, double the above quantity of old tea-leaves was weekly manufactured into new tea. According to his estimate, and he was no mean authority, no less than 1500 lbs. weekly, or 78,000 lbs. per annum of this trash are yearly poured into the London market. The average consumption of tea is about 1-1/4 lb. per annum for each man, woman, or child in the kingdom; coffee being the principal unfermented beverage of the poor. Those, however, of the poorest who drink tea consume about two ounces per week (half an ounce serving them twice), or one pound in the course of every two months. This makes the annual consumption of the adult tea-drinking poor amount to 6 lbs., and it is upon this class the spurious tea is chiefly foisted.

OF THE STREET-FINDERS OR COLLECTORS.

These men, for by far the great majority are men, may be divided, according to the nature of their occupations, into three classes:--

1. The bone-grubbers and rag-gatherers, who are, indeed, the same individuals, the pure-finders, and the cigar-end and old wood collectors.

2. The dredgermen, the mud-larks, and the sewer-hunters.

3. The dustmen and nightmen, the sweeps and the scavengers.

The first class go abroad daily to find in the streets, and carry away with them such things as bones, rags, “pure” (or dogs’-dung), which no one appropriates. These they sell, and on that sale support a wretched life. The second class of people are also as strictly finders; but their industry, or rather their labour, is confined to the river, or to that subterranean city of sewerage unto which the Thames supplies the great outlets. These persons may not be immediately connected with the streets of London, but their pursuits are carried on in the open air (if the sewer-air may be so included), and are all, at any rate, out-of-door avocations. The third class is distinct from either of these, as the labourers comprised in it are not finders, but collectors or removers of the dirt and filth of our streets and houses, and of the soot of our chimneys.

The two first classes also differ from the third in the fact that the sweeps, dustmen, scavengers, &c., are paid (and often large sums) for the removal of the refuse they collect; whereas the bone-grubbers, and mud-larks, and pure-finders, and dredgermen, and sewer-hunters, get for their pains only the value of the articles they gather.

Herein, too, lies a broad distinction between the street-finder, or collector, and the street-buyer: though both deal principally with refuse, the buyer pays for what he is permitted to take away; whereas the finder or collector is either paid (like the sweep), or else he neither pays nor is paid (like the bone-grubber), for the refuse that he removes.

The third class of street-collectors also presents another and a markedly distinctive characteristic. They act in the capacity of servants, and do not depend upon chance for the result of their day’s labour, but are put to stated tasks, being employed and paid a fixed sum for their work. To this description, however, some of the sweeps present an exception; as when the sweep works on his own account, or, as it is worded, “is his own master.”

The public health requires the periodical cleaning of the streets, and the removal of the refuse matter from our dwellings; and the man who contracts to carry on this work is decidedly a street-collector; for on what he collects or removes depends the amount of his remuneration. Thus a wealthy contractor for the public scavengery, is as entirely one of the street-folk as the unskilled and ignorant labourer he employs. The master lives, and, in many instances, has become rich, on the results of his street employment; for, of course, the actual workmen are but as the agents or sources of his profit. Even the collection of “pure” (dogs’-dung) in the streets, if conducted by the servants of any tanner or leather dresser, either for the purposes of his own trade or for sale to others, might be the occupation of a wealthy man, deriving a small profit from the labour of each particular collector. The same may also be said of bone-grubbing, or any similar occupation, however insignificant, and now abandoned to the outcast.

Were the collection of mud and dust carried on by a number of distinct individuals--that is to say, were each individual dustman and scavenger to collect on his own account, there is no doubt that no one man could amass a fortune by such means--while if the collection of bones and rags and even dogs’-dung were carried on “in the large way,” that is to say, by a number of individual collectors working for one “head man,” even the picking up of the most abject refuse of the metropolis might become the source of great riches.

The bone-grubber and the mud-lark (the searcher for refuse on the banks of the river) differ little in their pursuits or in their characteristics, excepting that the mud-larks are generally boys, which is more an accidental than a definite distinction. The grubbers are with a few exceptions stupid, unconscious of their degradation, and with little anxiety to be relieved from it. They are usually taciturn, but this taciturn habit is common to men whose callings, if they cannot be called solitary, are pursued with little communication with others. I was informed by a man who once kept a little beer-shop near Friar-street, Southwark Bridge-road (where then and still, he thought, was a bone-grinding establishment), that the bone-grubbers who carried their sacks of bones thither sometimes had a pint of beer at his house when they had received their money. They usually sat, he told me, silently looking at the corners of the floor--for they rarely lifted their eyes up--as if they were expecting to see some bones or refuse there available for their bags. Of this inertion, perhaps fatigue and despair may be a part. I asked some questions of a man of this class whom I saw pick up in a road in the suburbs something that appeared to have been a coarse canvas apron, although it was wet after a night’s rain and half covered with mud. I inquired of him what he thought about when he trudged along looking on the ground on every side. His answer was, “Of nothing, sir.” I believe that no better description could be given of that vacuity of mind or mental inactivity which seems to form a part of the most degraded callings. The minds of such men, even without an approach to idiotcy, appear to be a blank. One characteristic of these poor fellows, bone-grubbers and mud-larks, is that they are very poor, although I am told some of them, the older men, have among the poor the reputation of being misers. It is not unusual for the youths belonging to these callings to live with their parents and give them the amount of their earnings.

The sewer-hunters are again distinct, and a far more intelligent and adventurous class; but they work in gangs. They must be familiar with the course of the tides, or they might be drowned at high water. They must have quick eyes too, not merely to descry the objects of their search, but to mark the points and bearings of the subterraneous roads they traverse; in a word, “to know their way underground.” There is, moreover, some spirit of daring in venturing into a dark, solitary sewer, the chart being only in the memory, and in braving the possibility of noxious vapours, and the by no means insignificant dangers of the rats infesting these places.

The dredgermen, the finders of the water, are again distinct, as being watermen, and working in boats. In some foreign parts, in Naples, for instance, men carrying on similar pursuits are also divers for anything lost in the bay or its confluent waters. One of these men, known some years ago as “the Fish,” could remain (at least, so say those whom there is no reason to doubt) three hours under the water without rising to the surface to take breath. He was, it is said, web-footed, naturally, and partially web-fingered. The King of the Two Sicilies once threw a silver cup into the sea for “the Fish” to bring up and retain as a reward, but the poor diver was never seen again. It was believed that he got entangled among the weeds on the rocks, and so perished. The dredgermen are necessarily well acquainted with the sets of the tide and the course of the currents in the Thames. Every one of these men works on his own account, being as it were a “small master,” which, indeed, is one of the great attractions of open-air pursuits. The dredgermen also depend for their maintenance upon the sale of what they find, or the rewards they receive.

It is otherwise, however, as was before observed, with the third class of the street-finders, or rather collectors. In all the capacities of dustmen, nightmen, scavengers, and sweeps, the employers of the men are paid to do the work, the proceeds of the street-collection forming only a portion of the employer’s remuneration. The sweep has the soot in addition to his 6_d._ or 1_s._; the master scavenger has a payment from the parish funds to sweep the streets, though the clearance of the cesspools, &c., in private houses, may be an individual bargain. The whole refuse of the streets belongs to the contractor to make the best of, but it must be cleared away, and so must the contents of a dust-bin; for if a mass of dirt become offensive, the householder may be indicted for a nuisance, and municipal by-laws require its removal. It is thus made a matter of compulsion that the dust be removed from a private house; but it is otherwise with the soot. Why a man should be permitted to let soot accumulate in his chimney--perhaps exposing himself, his family, his lodgers, and his neighbours to the dangers of fire, it may not be easy to account for, especially when we bear in mind that the same man may not accumulate cabbage-leaves and fish-tails in his yard.

The dustmen are of the plodding class of labourers, mere labourers, who require only bodily power, and possess little or no mental development. Many of the agricultural labourers are of this order, and the dustman often seems to be the stolid ploughman, modified by a residence in a city, and engaged in a peculiar calling. They are generally uninformed, and no few of them are dustmen because their fathers were. The same may be said of nightmen and scavengers. At one time it was a popular, or rather a vulgar notion that many dustmen had become possessed of large sums, from the plate, coins, and valuables they found in clearing the dust-bins--a manifest absurdity; but I was told by a marine-store dealer that he had known a young woman, a dustman’s daughter, sell silver spoons to a neighbouring marine-store man, who was “not very particular.”

The circumstances and character of the chimney-sweeps have, since Parliament “put down” the climbing boys, undergone considerable change. The sufferings of many of the climbing boys were very great. They were often ill-lodged, ill-fed, barely-clad, forced to ascend hot and narrow flues, and subject to diseases--such as the chimney-sweep’s cancer--peculiar to their calling. The child hated his trade, and was easily tempted to be a thief, for prison was an asylum; or he grew up a morose tyrannical fellow as journeyman or master. Some of the young sweeps became very bold thieves and house-breakers, and the most remarkable, as far as personal daring is concerned: the boldest feat of escape from Newgate was performed by a youth who had been brought up a chimney-sweep. He climbed up the two bare rugged walls of a corner of the interior of the prison, in the open air, to the height of some 60 feet. He had only the use of his hands, knees, and feet, and a single slip, from fear or pain, would have been death; he surmounted a parapet after this climbing, and gained the roof, but was recaptured before he could get clear away. He was, moreover, a sickly, and reputed a cowardly, young man, and ended his career in this country by being transported.

A master sweep, now in middle age, and a man “well to do,” told me that when a mere child he had been apprenticed out of the workhouse to a sweep, such being at that time a common occurrence. He had undergone, he said, great hardships while learning his business, and was long, from the indifferent character of his class, ashamed of being a sweep, both as journeyman and master; but the sweeps were so much improved in character now, that he no longer felt himself disgraced in his calling.

The sweeps are more intelligent than the mere ordinary labourers I have written of under this head, but they are, of course, far from being an educated body.

The further and more minute characteristics of the curious class of street-finders or collectors will be found in the particular details and statements.

Among the finders there is perhaps the greatest poverty existing, they being the very lowest class of all the street-people. Many of the very old live on the hard dirty crusts they pick up out of the roads in the course of their rounds, washing them and steeping them in water before they eat them. Probably that vacuity of mind which is a distinguishing feature of the class is the mere atony or emaciation of the mental faculties proceeding from--though often producing in the want of energy that it necessarily begets--the extreme wretchedness of the class. But even their liberty and a crust--as it frequently literally is--appears preferable to these people to the restrictions of the workhouse. Those who are unable to comprehend the inertia of both body and mind begotten by the despair of long-continued misfortune are referred to page 357 of the first volume of this work, where it will be found that a tinman, in speaking of the misery connected with the early part of his street-career, describes the effect of extreme want as producing not only an absence of all hope, but even of a desire to better the condition. Those, however, who have studied the mysterious connection between body and mind, and observed what different creatures they themselves are before and after dinner, can well understand that a long-continued deficiency of food must have the same weakening effect on the muscles of the mind and energy of the thoughts and will, as it has on the limbs themselves.

Occasionally it will be found that the utter abjectness of the bone-grubbers has arisen from the want of energy begotten by intemperate habits. The workman has nothing but this same energy to live upon, and the permanent effect of stimulating liquors is to produce an amount of depression corresponding to the excitement momentarily caused by them in the frame. The operative, therefore, who spends his earnings on “drink,” not only squanders them on a brutalising luxury, but deprives himself of the power, and consequently of the disposition, to work for more, and hence that idleness, carelessness, and neglect which are the distinctive qualities of the drunkard, and sooner or later compass his ruin.

For the poor wretched children who are reared to this the lowest trade of all, surely even the most insensible and unimaginative must feel the acutest pity. There is, however, this consolation: I have heard of none, with the exception of the more prosperous sewer-hunters and dredgermen, who have remained all their lives at street-finding. Still there remains much to be done by all those who are impressed with a sense of the trust that has been confided to them, in the possession of those endowments which render their lot in this world so much more easy than that of the less lucky street-finders.

BONE-GRUBBERS AND RAG-GATHERERS.

The habits of the bone-grubbers and rag-gatherers, the “pure,” or dogs’-dung collectors, and the cigar-end finders, are necessarily similar. All lead a wandering, unsettled sort of life, being compelled to be continually on foot, and to travel many miles every day in search of the articles in which they deal. They seldom have any fixed place of abode, and are mostly to be found at night in one or other of the low lodging-houses throughout London. The majority are, moreover, persons who have been brought up to other employments, but who from some failing or mishap have been reduced to such a state of distress that they were obliged to take to their present occupation, and have never after been able to get away from it.

Of the whole class it is considered that there are from 800 to 1000 resident in London, one-half of whom, at the least, sleep in the cheap lodging-houses. The Government returns estimate the number of mendicants’ lodging-houses in London to be upwards of 200. Allowing two bone-grubbers and pure-finders to frequent each of these lodging-houses, there will be upwards of 400 availing themselves of such nightly shelters. As many more, I am told, live in garrets and ill-furnished rooms in the lowest neighbourhoods. There is no instance on record of any of the class renting even the smallest house for himself.

Moreover there are in London during the winter a number of persons called “trampers,” who employ themselves at that season in street-finding. These people are in the summer country labourers of some sort, but as soon as the harvest and potato-getting and hop-picking are over, and they can find nothing else to do in the country, they come back to London to avail themselves of the shelter of the night asylums or refuges for the destitute (usually called “straw-yards” by the poor), for if they remained in the provinces at that period of the year they would be forced to have recourse to the unions, and as they can only stay one night in each place they would be obliged to travel from ten to fifteen miles per day, to which in the winter they have a strong objection. They come up to London in the winter, not to look for any regular work or employment, but because they know that they can have a nightly shelter, and bread night and morning for nothing, during that season, and can during the day collect bones, rags, &c. As soon as the “straw-yards” close, which is generally about the beginning of April, the “trampers” again start off to the country in small bands of two or three, and without any fixed residence keep wandering about all the summer, sometimes begging their way through the villages and sleeping in the casual wards of the unions, and sometimes, when hard driven, working at hay-making or any other light labour.

Those among the bone-grubbers who do not belong to the regular “trampers” have been either navvies, or men who have not been able to obtain employment at their own business, and have been driven to it by necessity as a means of obtaining a little bread for the time being, and without any intention of pursuing the calling regularly; but, as I have said, when once in the business they cannot leave it, for at least they make certain of getting a few halfpence by it, and their present necessity does not allow them time to look after other employment. There are many of the street-finders who are old men and women, and many very young children who have no other means of living. Since the famine in Ireland vast numbers of that unfortunate people, particularly boys and girls, have been engaged in gathering bones and rags in the streets.

The bone-picker and rag-gatherer may be known at once by the greasy bag which he carries on his back. Usually he has a stick in his hand, and this is armed with a spike or hook, for the purpose of more easily turning over the heaps of ashes or dirt that are thrown out of the houses, and discovering whether they contain anything that is saleable at the rag-and-bottle or marine-store shop. The bone-grubber generally seeks out the narrow back streets, where dust and refuse are cast, or where any dust-bins are accessible. The articles for which he chiefly searches are rags and bones--rags he prefers--but waste metal, such as bits of lead, pewter, copper, brass, or old iron, he prizes above all. Whatever he meets with that he knows to be in any way saleable he puts into the bag at his back. He often finds large lumps of bread which have been thrown out as waste by the servants, and occasionally the housekeepers will give him some bones on which there is a little meat remaining; these constitute the morning meal of most of the class. One of my informants had a large rump of beef bone given to him a few days previous to my seeing him, on which “there was not less than a pound of meat.”

The bone-pickers and rag-gatherers are all early risers. They have all their separate beats or districts, and it is most important to them that they should reach their district before any one else of the same class can go over the ground. Some of the beats lie as far as Peckham, Clapham, Hammersmith, Hampstead, Bow, Stratford, and indeed all parts within about five miles of London. In summer time they rise at two in the morning, and sometimes earlier. It is not quite light at this hour--but bones and rags can be discovered before daybreak. The “grubbers” scour all quarters of London, but abound more particularly in the suburbs. In the neighbourhood of Petticoat-lane and Ragfair, however, they are the most numerous on account of the greater quantity of rags which the Jews have to throw out. It usually takes the bone-picker from seven to nine hours to go over his rounds, during which time he travels from 20 to 30 miles with a quarter to a half hundredweight on his back. In the summer he usually reaches home about eleven of the day, and in the winter about one or two. On his return home he proceeds to sort the contents of his bag. He separates the rags from the bones, and these again from the old metal (if he be lucky enough to have found any). He divides the rags into various lots, according as they are white or coloured; and if he have picked up any pieces of canvas or sacking, he makes these also into a separate parcel. When he has finished the sorting he takes his several lots to the rag-shop or the marine-store dealer, and realizes upon them whatever they may be worth. For the white rags he gets from 2_d._ to 3_d._ per pound, according as they are clean or soiled. The white rags are very difficult to be found; they are mostly very dirty, and are therefore sold with the coloured ones at the rate of about 5 lbs. for 2_d._ The bones are usually sold with the coloured rags at one and the same price. For fragments of canvas or sacking the grubber gets about three-farthings a pound; and old brass, copper, and pewter about 4_d._ (the marine-store keepers say 5_d._), and old iron one farthing per pound, or six pounds for 1_d._ The bone-grubber thinks he has done an excellent day’s work if he can earn 8_d._; and some of them, especially the very old and the very young, do not earn more than from 2_d._ to 3_d._ a day. To make 10_d._ a day, at the present price of rags and bones, a man must be remarkably active and strong,--“ay! and lucky, too,” adds my informant. The average amount of earnings, I am told, varies from about 6_d._ to 8_d._ per day, or from 3_s._ to 4_s._ a week; and the highest amount that a man, the most brisk and persevering at the business, can by any possibility earn in one week is about 5_s._, but this can only be accomplished by great good fortune and industry--the usual weekly gains are about half that sum. In bad weather the bone-grubber cannot do so well, because the rags are wet, and then they cannot sell them. The majority pick up bones only in wet weather; those who do gather rags during or after rain are obliged to wash and dry them before they can sell them. The state of the shoes of the rag and bone-picker is a very important matter to him; for if he be well shod he can get quickly over the ground; but he is frequently lamed, and unable to make any progress from the blisters and gashes on his feet, occasioned by the want of proper shoes.

Sometimes the bone-grubbers will pick up a stray sixpence or a shilling that has been dropped in the street. “The handkerchief I have round my neck,” said one whom I saw, “I picked up with 1_s._ in the corner. The greatest prize I ever found was the brass cap of the nave of a coach-wheel; and I did once find a quarter of a pound of tobacco in Sun-street, Bishopsgate. The best bit of luck of all that I ever had was finding a cheque for 12_l._ 15_s._ lying in the gateway of the mourning-coach yard in Titchborne-street, Haymarket. I was going to light my pipe with it, indeed I picked it up for that purpose, and then saw it was a cheque. It was on the London and County Bank, 21, Lombard-street. I took it there, and got 10_s._ for finding it. I went there in my rags, as I am now, and the cashier stared a bit at me. The cheque was drawn by a Mr. Knibb, and payable to a Mr. Cox. I did think I should have got the odd 15_s._ though.”

It has been stated that the average amount of the earnings of the bone-pickers is 6_d._ per day, or 3_s._ per week, being 7_l._ 16_s._ per annum for each person. It has also been shown that the number of persons engaged in the business may be estimated at about 800; hence the earnings of the entire number will amount to the sum of 20_l._ per day, or 120_l._ per week, which gives 6240_l._ as the annual earnings of the bone-pickers and rag-gatherers of London. It may also be computed that each of the grubbers gathers on an average 20 lbs. weight of bone and rags; and reckoning the bones to constitute three-fourths of the entire weight, we thus find that the gross quantity of these articles gathered by the street-finders in the course of the year, amounts to 3,744,000 lbs. of bones, and 1,240,000 lbs. of rags.

Between the London and St. Katherine’s Docks and Rosemary Lane, there is a large district inter-laced with narrow lanes, courts, and alleys ramifying into each other in the most intricate and disorderly manner, insomuch that it would be no easy matter for a stranger to work his way through the interminable confusion without the aid of a guide, resident in and well conversant with the locality. The houses are of the poorest description, and seem as if they tumbled into their places at random. Foul channels, huge dust-heaps, and a variety of other unsightly objects, occupy every open space, and dabbling among these are crowds of ragged dirty children who grub and wallow, as if in their native element. None reside in these places but the poorest and most wretched of the population, and, as might almost be expected, this, the cheapest and filthiest locality of London, is the head-quarters of the bone-grubbers and other street-finders. I have ascertained on the best authority, that from the centre of this place, within a circle of a mile in diameter, there dwell not less than 200 persons of this class. In this quarter I found a bone-grubber who gave me the following account of himself:--

“I was born in Liverpool, and when about 14 years of age, my father died. He used to work about the Docks, and I used to run on errands for any person who wanted me. I managed to live by this after my father’s death for three or four years. I had a brother older than myself, who went to France to work on the railroads, and when I was about 18 he sent for me, and got me to work with himself on the Paris and Rouen Railway, under McKenzie and Brassy, who had the contract. I worked on the railroads in France for four years, till the disturbance broke out, and then we all got notice to leave the country. I lodged at that time with a countryman, and had 12_l._, which I had saved out of my earnings. This sum I gave to my countryman to keep for me till we got to London, as I did not like to have it about me, for fear I’d lose it. The French people paid our fare from Rouen to Havre by the railway, and there put us on board a steamer to Southampton. There was about 50 of us altogether. When we got to Southampton, we all went before the mayor; we told him about how we had been driven out of France, and he gave us a shilling a piece; he sent some one with us, too, to get us a lodging, and told us to come again the next day. In the morning the mayor gave every one who was able to walk half-a-crown, and for those who were not able he paid their fare to London on the railroad. I had a sore leg at the time, and I came up by the train, and when I gave up my ticket at the station, the gentleman gave me a shilling more. I couldn’t find the man I had given my money to, because he had walked up; and I went before the Lord Mayor to ask his advice; he gave me 2_s._ 6_d._ I looked for work everywhere, but could get nothing to do; and when the 2_s._ 6_d._ was all spent, I heard that the man who had my money was on the London and York Railway in the country; however, I couldn’t get that far for want of money then; so I went again before the Lord Mayor, and he gave me two more, but told me not to trouble him any further. I told the Lord Mayor about the money, and then he sent an officer with me, who put me into a carriage on the railway. When I got down to where the man was at work, he wouldn’t give me a farthing; I had given him the money without any witness bring present, and he said I could do nothing, because it was done in another country. I staid down there more than a week trying to get work on the railroad, but could not. I had no money and was nearly starved, when two or three took pity on me, and made up four or five shillings for me, to take me back again to London. I tried all I could to get something to do, till the money was nearly gone; and then I took to selling lucifers, and the fly-papers that they use in the shops, and little things like that; but I could do no good at this work, there was too many at it before me, and they knew more about it than I did. At last, I got so bad off I didn’t know what to do; but seeing a great many about here gathering bones and rags, I thought I’d do so too--a poor fellow must do something. I was advised to do so, and I have been at it ever since. I forgot to tell you that my brother died in France. We had good wages there, four francs a day, or 3_s._ 4_d._ English; I don’t make more than 3_d._ or 4_d._ and sometimes 6_d._ a day at bone-picking. I don’t go out before daylight to gather anything, because the police takes my bag and throws all I’ve gathered about the street to see if I have anything stolen in it. I never stole anything in all my life, indeed I’d do anything before I’d steal. Many a night I’ve slept under an arch of the railway when I hadn’t a penny to pay for my bed; but whenever the police find me that way, they make me and the rest get up, and drive us on, and tell us to keep moving. I don’t go out on wet days, there’s no use in it, as the things won’t be bought. I can’t wash and dry them, because I’m in a lodging-house. There’s a great deal more than a 100 bone-pickers about here, men, women, and children. The Jews in this lane and up in Petticoat-lane give a good deal of victuals away on the Saturday. They sometimes call one of us in from the street to light the fire for them, or take off the kettle, as they must not do anything themselves on the Sabbath; and then they put some food on the footpath, and throw rags and bones into the street for us, because they must not hand anything to us. There are some about here who get a couple of shillings’ worth of goods, and go on board the ships in the Docks, and exchange them for bones and bits of old canvas among the sailors; I’d buy and do so too if I only had the money, but can’t get it. The summer is the worst time for us, the winter is much better, for there is more meat used in winter, and then there are more bones.” (Others say differently.) “I intend to go to the country this season, and try to get something to do at the hay-making and harvest. I make about 2_s._ 6_d._ a week, and the way I manage is this: sometimes I get a piece of bread about 12 o’clock, and I make my breakfast of that and cold water; very seldom I have any dinner,--unless I earn 6_d._ I can’t get any,--and then I have a basin of nice soup, or a penn’orth of plum-pudding and a couple of baked ’tatoes. At night I get 1/4_d._ worth of coffee, 1/2_d._ worth of sugar, and 1-1/4_d._ worth of bread, and then I have 2_d._ a night left for my lodging; I always try to manage that, for I’d do anything sooner than stop out all night. I’m always happy the day when I make 4_d._, for then I know I won’t have to sleep in the street. The winter before last, there was a straw-yard down in Black Jack’s-alley, where we used to go after six o’clock in the evening, and get 1/2 lb. of bread, and another 1/2 lb. in the morning, and then we’d gather what we could in the daytime and buy victuals with what we got for it. We were well off then, but the straw-yard wasn’t open at all last winter. There used to be 300 of us in there of a night, a great many of the dock-labourers and their families were there, for no work was to be got in the docks; so they weren’t able to pay rent, and were obliged to go in. I’ve lost my health since I took to bone-picking, through the wet and cold in the winter, for I’ve scarcely any clothes, and the wet gets to my feet through the old shoes; this caused me last winter to be nine weeks in the hospital of the Whitechapel workhouse.”

The narrator of this tale seemed so dejected and broken in spirit, that it was with difficulty his story was elicited from him. He was evidently labouring under incipient consumption. I have every reason to believe that he made a truthful statement,--indeed, he did not appear to me to have sufficient intellect to invent a falsehood. It is a curious fact, indeed, with reference to the London street-finders generally, that they seem to possess less rational power than any other class. They appear utterly incapable of trading even in the most trifling commodities, probably from the fact that buying articles for the purpose of selling them at a profit, requires an exercise of the mind to which they feel themselves incapable. Begging, too, requires some ingenuity or tact, in order to move the sympathies of the well-to-do, and the street-finders being incompetent for this, they work on day after day as long as they are able to crawl about in pursuit of their unprofitable calling. This cannot be fairly said of the younger members of this class, who are sent into the streets by their parents, and many of whom are afterwards able to find some more reputable and more lucrative employment. As a body of people, however, young and old, they mostly exhibit the same stupid, half-witted appearance.

To show how bone-grubbers occasionally manage to obtain shelter during the night, the following incident may not be out of place. A few mornings past I accidentally encountered one of this class in a narrow back lane; his ragged coat--the colour of the rubbish among which he toiled--was greased over, probably with the fat of the bones he gathered, and being mixed with the dust it seemed as if the man were covered with bird-lime. His shoes--torn and tied on his feet with pieces of cord--had doubtlessly been picked out of some dust-bin, while his greasy bag and stick unmistakably announced his calling. Desirous of obtaining all the information possible on this subject, I asked him a few questions, took his address, which he gave without hesitation, and bade him call on me in the evening. At the time appointed, however, he did not appear; on the following day therefore I made way to the address he had given, and on reaching the spot I was astonished to find the house in which he had said he lived was uninhabited. A padlock was on the door, the boards of which were parting with age. There was not a whole pane of glass in any of the windows, and the frames of many of them were shattered or demolished. Some persons in the neighbourhood, noticing me eyeing the place, asked whom I wanted. On my telling the man’s name, which it appeared he had not dreamt of disguising, I was informed that he had left the day before, saying he had met the landlord in the morning (for such it turned out he had fancied me to be), and that the gentleman had wanted him to come to his house, but he was afraid to go lest he should be sent to prison for breaking into the place. I found, on inspection, that the premises, though locked up, could be entered by the rear, one of the window-frames having been removed, so that admission could be obtained through the aperture. Availing myself of the same mode of ingress, I proceeded to examine the premises. Nothing could well be more dismal or dreary than the interior. The floors were rotting with damp and mildew, especially near the windows, where the wet found easy entrance. The walls were even slimy and discoloured, and everything bore the appearance of desolation. In one corner was strewn a bundle of dirty straw, which doubtlessly had served the bone-grubber for a bed, while scattered about the floor were pieces of bones, and small fragments of dirty rags, sufficient to indicate the calling of the late inmate. He had had but little difficulty in removing his property, seeing that it consisted solely of his bag and his stick.

The following paragraph concerning the chiffoniers or rag-gatherers of Paris appeared in the London journals a few weeks since:--

“The fraternal association of rag-gatherers (chiffoniers) gave a grand banquet on Saturday last (21st of June). It took place at a public-house called the Pot Tricolore, near the Barrière de Fontainbleau, which is frequented by the rag-gathering fraternity. In this house there are three rooms, each of which is specially devoted to the use of different classes of rag-gatherers: one, the least dirty, is called the ‘Chamber of Peers,’ and is occupied by the first class--that is, those who possess a basket in a good state, and a crook ornamented with copper; the second, called the ‘Chamber of Deputies,’ belonging to the second class, is much less comfortable, and those who attend it have baskets and crooks not of first-rate quality; the third room is in a dilapidated condition, and is frequented by the lowest class of rag-gatherers who have no basket or crook, and who place what they find in the streets in a piece of sackcloth. They call themselves the ‘Réunion des Vrais Prolétaires.’ The name of each room is written in chalk above the door; and generally such strict etiquette is observed among the rag-gatherers that no one goes into the apartment not occupied by his own class. At Saturday’s banquet, however, all distinctions of rank were laid aside, and delegates of each class united fraternally. The president was the oldest rag-gatherer in Paris; his age is 88, and he is called ‘the Emperor.’ The banquet consisted of a sort of olla podrida, which the master of the establishment pompously called gibelotte, though of what animal it was composed it was impossible to say. It was served up in huge earthen dishes, and before it was allowed to be touched payment was demanded and obtained; the other articles were also paid for as soon as they were brought in; and a deposit was exacted as a security for the plates, knives, and forks. The wine, or what did duty as such, was contained in an earthen pot called the Petit Père Noir, and was filled from a gigantic vessel named Le Moricaud. The dinner was concluded by each guest taking a small glass of brandy. Business was then proceeded to. It consisted in the reading and adoption of the statutes of the association, followed by the drinking of numerous toasts to the president, to the prosperity of rag-gathering, to the union of rag-gatherers, &c. A collection amounting to 6_f._ 75_c._ was raised for sick members of the fraternity. The guests then dispersed; but several of them remained at the counter until they had consumed in brandy the amount deposited as security for the crockery, knives, and forks.”

OF THE “PURE”-FINDERS.

Dogs’-dung is called “Pure,” from its cleansing and purifying properties.

The name of “Pure-finders,” however, has been applied to the men engaged in collecting dogs’-dung from the public streets only, within the last 20 or 30 years. Previous to this period there appears to have been no men engaged in the business, old women alone gathered the substance, and they were known by the name of “bunters,” which signifies properly gatherers of rags; and thus plainly intimates that the rag-gatherers originally added the collecting of “Pure” to their original and proper vocation. Hence it appears that the bone-grubbers, rag-gatherers, and pure-finders, constituted formerly but one class of people, and even now they have, as I have stated, kindred characteristics.

The pure-finders meet with a ready market for all the dogs’-dung they are able to collect, at the numerous tanyards in Bermondsey, where they sell it by the stable-bucket full, and get from 8_d._ to 10_d._ per bucket, and sometimes 1_s._ and 1_s._ 2_d._ for it, according to its quality. The “dry limy-looking sort” fetches the highest price at some yards, as it is found to possess more of the alkaline, or purifying properties; but others are found to prefer the dark moist quality. Strange as it may appear, the preference for a particular kind has suggested to the finders of Pure the idea of adulterating it to a very considerable extent; this is effected by means of mortar broken away from old walls, and mixed up with the whole mass, which it closely resembles; in some cases, however, the mortar is rolled into small balls similar to those found. Hence it would appear, that there is no business or trade, however insignificant or contemptible, without its own peculiar and appropriate tricks.

The pure-finders are in their habits and mode of proceeding nearly similar to the bone-grubbers. Many of the pure-finders are, however, better in circumstances, the men especially, as they earn more money. They are also, to a certain extent, a better educated class. Some of the regular collectors of this substance have been mechanics, and others small tradesmen, who have been reduced. Those pure-finders who have “a good connection,” and have been granted permission to cleanse some kennels, obtain a very fair living at the business, earning from 10_s._ to 15_s._ a week. These, however, are very few; the majority have to seek the article in the streets, and by such means they can obtain only from 6_s._ to 10_s._ a week. The average weekly earnings of this class are thought to be about 7_s._ 6_d._

From all the inquiries I have made on this subject, I have found that there cannot be less than from 200 to 300 persons constantly engaged solely in this business. There are about 30 tanyards large and small in Bermondsey, and these all have their regular Pure collectors from whom they obtain the article. Leomont and Roberts’s, Bavingtons’, Beech’s, Murrell’s, Cheeseman’s, Powell’s, Jones’s, Jourdans’, Kent’s, Moorcroft’s, and Davis’s, are among the largest establishments, and some idea of the amount of business done in some of these yards may be formed from the fact, that the proprietors severally employ from 300 to 500 tanners. At Leomont and Roberts’s there are 23 regular street-finders, who supply them with pure, but this is a large establishment, and the number supplying them is considered far beyond the average quantity; moreover, Messrs. Leomont and Roberts do more business in the particular branch of tanning in which the article is principally used, viz., in dressing the leather for book-covers, kid-gloves, and a variety of other articles. Some of the other tanyards, especially the smaller ones, take the substance only as they happen to want it, and others again employ but a limited number of hands. If, therefore, we strike an average, and reduce the number supplying each of the several yards to eight, we shall have 240 persons regularly engaged in the business: besides these, it may be said that numbers of the starving and destitute Irish have taken to picking up the material, but not knowing where to sell it, or how to dispose of it, they part with it for 2_d._ or 3_d._ the pail-full to the regular purveyors of it to the tanyards, who of course make a considerable profit by the transaction. The children of the poor Irish are usually employed in this manner, but they also pick up rags and bones, and anything else which may fall in their way.

I have stated that some of the pure-finders, especially the men, earn a considerable sum of money per week; their gains are sometimes as much as 15_s._; indeed I am assured that seven years ago, when they got from 3_s._ to 4_s._ per pail for the pure, that many of them would not exchange their position with that of the best paid mechanic in London. Now, however, the case is altered, for there are twenty now at the business for every one who followed it then; hence each collects so much the less in quantity, and, moreover, from the competition gets so much less for the article. Some of the collectors at present do not earn 3_s._ per week, but these are mostly old women who are feeble and unable to get over the ground quickly; others make 5_s._ and 6_s._ in the course of the week, while the most active and those who clean out the kennels of the dog fanciers may occasionally make 9_s._ and 10_s._ and even 15_s._ a week still, but this is of very rare occurrence. Allowing the finders, one with the other, to earn on an average 5_s._ per week, it would give the annual earnings of each to be 13_l._, while the income of the whole 200 would amount to 50_l._ a week, or 2600_l._ per annum. The kennel “pure” is not much valued, indeed many of the tanners will not even buy it, the reason is that the dogs of the “fanciers” are fed on almost anything, to save expense; the kennel cleaners consequently take the precaution of mixing it with what is found in the street, previous to offering it for sale.

The pure-finder may at once be distinguished from the bone-grubber and rag-gatherer; the latter, as I have before mentioned, carries a bag, and usually a stick armed with a spike, while he is most frequently to be met with in back streets, narrow lanes, yards and other places, where dust and rubbish are likely to be thrown out from the adjacent houses. The pure-finder, on the contrary, is often found in the open streets, as dogs wander where they like. The pure-finders always carry a handle basket, generally with a cover, to hide the contents, and have their right hand covered with a black leather glove; many of them, however, dispense with the glove, as they say it is much easier to wash their hands than to keep the glove fit for use. The women generally have a large pocket for the reception of such rags as they may chance to fall in with, but they pick up those only of the very best quality, and will not go out of their way to search even for them. Thus equipped they may be seen pursuing their avocation in almost every street in and about London, excepting such streets as are now cleansed by the “street orderlies,” of whom the pure-finders grievously complain, as being an unwarrantable interference with the privileges of their class.

The pure collected is used by leather-dressers and tanners, and more especially by those engaged in the manufacture of morocco and kid leather from the skins of old and young goats, of which skins great numbers are imported, and of the roans and lambskins which are the sham morocco and kids of the “slop” leather trade, and are used by the better class of shoemakers, bookbinders, and glovers, for the inferior requirements of their business. Pure is also used by tanners, as is pigeon’s dung, for the tanning of the thinner kinds of leather, such as calf-skins, for which purpose it is placed in pits with an admixture of lime and bark.

In the manufacture of moroccos and roans the pure is rubbed by the hands of the workman into the skin he is dressing. This is done to “purify” the leather, I was told by an intelligent leather-dresser, and from that term the word “pure” has originated. The dung has astringent as well as highly alkaline, or, to use the expression of my informant, “scouring,” qualities. When the pure has been rubbed into the flesh and grain of the skin (the “flesh” being originally the interior, and the “grain” the exterior part of the cuticle), and the skin, thus purified, has been hung up to be dried, the dung removes, as it were, all such moisture as, if allowed to remain, would tend to make the leather unsound or imperfectly dressed. This imperfect dressing, moreover, gives a disagreeable smell to the leather--and leather-buyers often use both nose and tongue in making their purchases--and would consequently prevent that agreeable odour being imparted to the skin which is found in some kinds of morocco and kid. The peculiar odour of the Russia leather, so agreeable in the libraries of the rich, is derived from the bark of young birch trees. It is now manufactured in Bermondsey.

Among the morocco manufacturers, especially among the old operatives, there is often a scarcity of employment, and they then dress a few roans, which they hawk to the cheap warehouses, or sell to the wholesale shoemakers on their own account. These men usually reside in small garrets in the poorer parts of Bermondsey, and carry on their trade in their own rooms, using and keeping the pure there; hence the “homes” of these poor men are peculiarly uncomfortable, if not unhealthy. Some of these poor fellows or their wives collect the pure themselves, often starting at daylight for the purpose; they more frequently, however, buy it of a regular finder.

The number of pure-finders I heard estimated, by a man well acquainted with the tanning and other departments of the leather trade, at from 200 to 250. The finders, I was informed by the same person, collected about a pail-full a day, clearing 6_s._ a week in the summer--1_s._ and 1_s._ 2_d._ being the charge for a pail-full; in the short days of winter, however, and in bad weather, they could not collect five pail-fulls in a week.

In the wretched locality already referred to as lying between the Docks and Rosemary-lane, redolent of filth and pregnant with pestilential diseases, and whither all the outcasts of the metropolitan population seem to be drawn, either in the hope of finding fitting associates and companions in their wretchedness (for there is doubtlessly something attractive and agreeable to them in such companionship), or else for the purpose of hiding themselves and their shifts and struggles for existence from the world,--in this dismal quarter, and branching from one of the many narrow lanes which interlace it, there is a little court with about half-a-dozen houses of the very smallest dimensions, consisting of merely two rooms, one over the other. Here in one of the upper rooms (the lower one of the same house being occupied by another family and apparently filled with little ragged children), I discerned, after considerable difficulty, an old woman, a Pure-finder. When I opened the door the little light that struggled through the small window, the many broken panes of which were stuffed with old rags, was not sufficient to enable me to perceive who or what was in the room. After a short time, however, I began to make out an old chair standing near the fire-place, and then to discover a poor old woman resembling a bundle of rags and filth stretched on some dirty straw in the corner of the apartment. The place was bare and almost naked. There was nothing in it except a couple of old tin kettles and a basket, and some broken crockeryware in the recess of the window. To my astonishment I found this wretched creature to be, to a certain extent, a “superior” woman; she could read and write well, spoke correctly, and appeared to have been a person of natural good sense, though broken up with age, want, and infirmity, so that she was characterized by all that dull and hardened stupidity of manner which I have noticed in the class. She made the following statement:--

“I am about 60 years of age. My father was a milkman, and very well off; he had a barn and a great many cows. I was kept at school till I was thirteen or fourteen years of age; about that time my father died, and then I was taken home to help my mother in the business. After a while things went wrong; the cows began to die, and mother, alleging she could not manage the business herself, married again. I soon found out the difference. Glad to get away, anywhere out of the house, I married a sailor, and was very comfortable with him for some years; as he made short voyages, and was often at home, and always left me half his pay. At last he was pressed, when at home with me, and sent away; I forget now where he was sent to, but I never saw him from that day to this. The only thing I know is that some sailors came to me four or five years after, and told me that he deserted from the ship in which he had gone out, and got on board the Neptune, East Indiaman, bound for Bombay, where he acted as boatswain’s mate; some little time afterwards, he had got intoxicated while the ship was lying in harbour, and, going down the side to get into a bumboat, and buy more drink, he had fallen overboard and was drowned. I got some money that was due to him from the India House, and, after that was all gone, I went into service, in the Mile-end Road. There I stayed for several years, till I met my second husband, who was bred to the water, too, but as a waterman on the river. We did very well together for a long time, till he lost his health. He became paralyzed like, and was deprived of the use of all one side, and nearly lost the sight of one of his eyes; this was not very conspicuous at first, but when we came to get pinched, and to be badly off, then any one might have seen that there was something the matter with his eye. Then we parted with everything we had in the world; and, at last, when we had no other means of living left, we were advised to take to gathering ‘Pure.’ At first I couldn’t endure the business; I couldn’t bear to eat a morsel, and I was obliged to discontinue it for a long time. My husband kept at it though, for he could do that well enough, only he couldn’t walk as fast as he ought. He couldn’t lift his hands as high as his head, but he managed to work under him, and so put the Pure in the basket. When I saw that he, poor fellow, couldn’t make enough to keep us both, I took heart and went out again, and used to gather more than he did; that’s fifteen years ago now; the times were good then, and we used to do very well. If we only gathered a pail-full in the day, we could live very well; but we could do much more than that, for there wasn’t near so many at the business then, and the Pure was easier to be had. For my part I can’t tell where all the poor creatures have come from of late years; the world seems growing worse and worse every day. They have pulled down the price of Pure, that’s certain; but the poor things must do something, they can’t starve while there’s anything to be got. Why, no later than six or seven years ago, it was as high as 3_s._ 6_d._ and 4_s._ a pail-full, and a ready sale for as much of it as you could get; but now you can only get 1_s._ and in some places 1_s._ 2_d._ a pail-full; and, as I said before, there are so many at it, that there is not much left for a poor old creature like me to find. The men that are strong and smart get the most, of course, and some of them do very well, at least they manage to live. Six years ago, my husband complained that he was ill, in the evening, and lay down in the bed--we lived in Whitechapel then--he took a fit of coughing, and was smothered in his own blood. O dear” (the poor old soul here ejaculated), “what troubles I have gone through! I had eight children at one time, and there is not one of them alive now. My daughter lived to 30 years of age, and then she died in childbirth, and, since then, I have had nobody in the wide world to care for me--none but myself, all alone as I am. After my husband’s death I couldn’t do much, and all my things went away, one by one, until I’ve nothing but bare walls, and that’s the reason why I was vexed at first at your coming in, sir. I was yesterday out all day, and went round Aldgate, Whitechapel, St. George’s East, Stepney, Bow, and Bromley, and then came home; after that, I went over to Bermondsey, and there I got only 6_d._ for my pains. To-day I wasn’t out at all; I wasn’t well; I had a bad headache, and I’m so much afraid of the fevers that are all about here--though I don’t know why I should be afraid of them--I was lying down, when you came, to get rid of my pains. There’s such a dizziness in my head now, I feel as if it didn’t belong to me. No, I have earned no money to-day. I have had a piece of dried bread that I steeped in water to eat. I haven’t eat anything else to-day; but, pray, sir, don’t tell anybody of it. I could never bear the thought of going into the ‘great house’ [workhouse]; I’m so used to the air, that I’d sooner die in the street, as many I know have done. I’ve known several of our people, who have sat down in the street with their basket alongside them, and died. I knew one not long ago, who took ill just as she was stooping down to gather up the Pure, and fell on her face; she was taken to the London Hospital, and died at three o’clock in the morning. I’d sooner die like them than be deprived of my liberty, and be prevented from going about where I liked. No, I’ll never go into the workhouse; my master is kind to me” [the tanner whom she supplies]. “When I’m ill, he sometimes gives me a sixpence; but there’s one gentleman has done us great harm, by forcing so many into the business. He’s a poor-law guardian, and when any poor person applies for relief, he tells them to go and gather Pure, and that he’ll buy it of them (for he’s in the line), and so the parish, you see, don’t have to give anything, and that’s one way that so many have come into the trade of late, that the likes of me can do little or no good at it. Almost every one I’ve ever known engaged at Pure-finding were people who were better off once. I knew a man who went by the name of Brown, who picked up Pure for years before I went to it; he was a very quiet man; he used to lodge in Blue Anchor-yard, and seldom used to speak to anybody. We two used to talk together sometimes, but never much. One morning he was found dead in his bed; it was of a Tuesday morning, and he was buried about 12 o’clock on the Friday following. About 6 o’clock on that afternoon, three or four gentlemen came searching all through this place, looking for a man named Brown, and offering a reward to any who would find him out; there was a whole crowd about them when I came up. One of the gentlemen said that the man they wanted had lost the first finger of his right hand, and then I knew that it was the man that had been buried only that morning. Would you believe it, Mr. Brown was a real gentleman all the time, and had a large estate, of I don’t know how many thousand pounds, just left him, and the lawyers had advertised and searched everywhere for him, but never found him, you may say, till he was dead. We discovered that his name was not Brown; he had only taken that name to hide his real one, which, of course, he did not want any one to know. I’ve often thought of him, poor man, and all the misery he might have been spared, if the good news had only come a year or two sooner.”

Another informant, a Pure-collector, was originally in the Manchester cotton trade, and held a lucrative situation in a large country establishment. His salary one year exceeded 250_l._, and his regular income was 150_l._ “This,” he says, “I lost through drink and neglect. My master was exceedingly kind to me, and has even assisted me since I left his employ. He bore with me patiently for many years, but the love of drink was so strong upon me that it was impossible for him to keep me any longer.” He has often been drunk, he tells me, for three months together; and he is now so reduced that he is ashamed to be seen. When at his master’s it was his duty to carve and help the other assistants belonging to the establishment, and his hand used to shake so violently that he has been ashamed to lift the gravy spoon.

At breakfast he has frequently waited till all the young men had left the table before he ventured to taste his tea; and immediately, when he was alone, he has bent his head down to his cup to drink, being utterly incapable of raising it to his lips. He says he is a living example of the degrading influence of drink. All his friends have deserted him. He has suffered enough, he tells me, to make him give it up. He earned the week before I saw him 5_s._ 2_d._; and the week before that, 6_s._

Before leaving me I prevailed upon the man to “take the pledge.” This is now eighteen months ago, and I have not seen him since.

OF THE CIGAR-END FINDERS.

There are, strictly speaking, none who make a living by picking up the ends of cigars thrown away as useless by the smokers in the streets, but there are very many who employ themselves from time to time in collecting them. Almost all the street-finders, when they meet with such things, pick them up, and keep them in a pocket set apart for that purpose. The men allow the ends to accumulate till they amount to two or three pounds weight, and then some dispose of them to a person residing in the neighbourhood of Rosemary-lane, who buys them all up at from 6_d._ to 10_d._ per pound, according to their length and quality. The long ends are considered the best, as I am told there is more sound tobacco in them, uninjured by the moisture of the mouth. The children of the poor Irish, in particular, scour Ratcliff-highway, the Commercial-road, Mile-end-road, and all the leading thoroughfares of the East, and every place where cigar smokers are likely to take an evening’s promenade. The quantity that each of them collects is very trifling indeed--perhaps not more than a handful during a morning’s search. I am informed, by an intelligent man living in the midst of them, that these children go out in the morning not only to gather cigar-ends, but to pick up out of dust bins, and from amongst rubbish in the streets, the smallest scraps and crusts of bread, no matter how hard or filthy they may be. These they put into a little bag which they carry for the purpose, and, after they have gone their rounds and collected whatever they can, they take the cigar-ends to the man who buys them--sometimes getting not more than a halfpenny or a penny for their morning’s collection. With this they buy a halfpenny or a pennyworth of oatmeal, which they mix up with a large quantity of water, and after washing and steeping the hard and dirty crusts, they put them into the pot or kettle and boil all together. Of this mass the whole family partake, and it often constitutes all the food they taste in the course of the day. I have often seen the bone-grubbers eat the black and soddened crusts they have picked up out of the gutter.

It would, indeed, be a hopeless task to make any attempt to get at the number of persons who occasionally or otherwise pick up cigar-ends with the view of selling them again. For this purpose almost all who ransack the streets of London for a living may be computed as belonging to the class; and to these should be added the children of the thousands of destitute Irish who have inundated the metropolis within the last few years, and who are to be found huddled together in all the low neighbourhoods in every suburb of the City. What quantity is collected, or the amount of money obtained for the ends, there are no means of ascertaining.

Let us, however, make a conjecture. There are in round numbers 300,000 inhabited houses in the metropolis; and allowing the married people living in apartments to be equal in number to the unmarried “housekeepers,” we may compute that the number of families in London is about the same as the inhabited houses. Assuming one young or old gentleman in every ten of these families to smoke one cigar per diem in the public thoroughfares, we have 30,000 cigar-ends daily, or 210,000 weekly cast away in the London streets. Now, reckoning 150 cigars to go to a pound, we may assume that each end so cast away weighs about the thousandth part of a pound; consequently the gross weight of the ends flung into the gutter will, in the course of the week, amount to about 2 cwt.; and calculating that only a sixth part of these are picked up by the finders, it follows that there is very nearly a ton of refuse tobacco collected annually in the metropolitan thoroughfares.

The aristocratic quarters of the City and the vicinity of theatres and casinos are the best for the cigar-end finders. In the Strand, Regent-street, and the more fashionable thoroughfares, I am told, there are many ends picked up; but even in these places they do not exclusively furnish a means of living to any of the finders. All the collectors sell them to some other person, who acts as middle-man in the business. How he disposes of the ends is unknown, but it is supposed that they are resold to some of the large manufacturers of cigars, and go to form the component part of a new stock of the “best Havannahs;” or, in other words, they are worked up again to be again cast away, and again collected by the finders, and so on perhaps, till the millennium comes. Some suppose them to be cut up and mixed with the common smoking tobacco, and others that they are used in making snuff. There are, I am assured, five persons residing in different parts of London, who are known to purchase the cigar-ends.

In Naples the sale of cigar-ends is a regular street-traffic, the street-seller carrying them in a small box suspended round the neck. In Paris, also, le Remasseur de Cigares is a well-known occupation: the “ends” thus collected are sold as cheap tobacco to the poor. In the low lodging-houses of London the ends, when dried, are cut up, and frequently vended by the finders to such of their fellow-lodgers as are anxious to enjoy their pipe at the cheapest possible rate.

OF THE OLD WOOD GATHERERS.

All that has been said of the cigar-end finders may, in a great measure, apply to the wood-gatherers. No one can make a living exclusively by the gathering of wood, and those who do gather it, gather as well rags, bones, and bits of metal. They gather it, indeed, as an adjunct to their other findings, on the principle that “every little helps.” Those, however, who most frequently look for wood are the very old and feeble, and the very young, who are both unable to travel far, or to carry a heavy burden, and they may occasionally be seen crawling about in the neighbourhood of any new buildings in the course of construction, or old ones in the course of demolition, and picking up small odds and ends of wood and chips swept out amongst dirt and shavings; these they deposit in a bag or basket which they carry for that purpose. Should there happen to be what they call “pulling-down work,” that is, taking down old houses, or palings, the place is immediately beset by a number of wood-gatherers, young and old, and in general all the poor people of the locality join with them, to obtain their share of the spoil. What the poor get they take home and burn, but the wood-gatherers sell all they procure for some small trifle.

Some short time ago a portion of the wood-pavement in the city was being removed; a large number of the old blocks, which were much worn and of no further use, were thrown aside, and became the perquisite of the wood-gatherers. During the repair of the street, the spot was constantly besieged by a motley mob of men, women, and children, who, in many instances, struggled and fought for the wood rejected as worthless. This wood they either sold for a trifle as they got it, or took home and split, and made into bundles for sale as firewood.

All the mudlarks (of whom I shall treat specially) pick up wood and chips on the bank of the river; these they sell to poor people in their own neighbourhood. They sometimes “find” large pieces of a greater weight than they can carry; in such cases they get some other mudlark to help them with the load, and the two “go halves” in the produce. The only parties among the street-finders who do not pick up wood are the Pure-collectors and the sewer-hunters, or, as they call themselves, shore-workers, both of whom pass it by as of no value.

It is impossible to estimate the quantity of wood which is thus gathered, or what the amount may be which the collector realises in the course of the year.

OF THE DREDGERS, OR RIVER FINDERS.

The dredgermen of the Thames, or river finders, naturally occupy the same place with reference to the street-finders, as the purlmen or river beer-sellers do to those who get their living by selling in the streets. It would be in itself a curious inquiry to trace the origin of the manifold occupations in which men are found to be engaged in the present day, and to note how promptly every circumstance and occurrence was laid hold of, as it happened to arise, which appeared to have any tendency to open up a new occupation, and to mark the gradual progress, till it became a regularly-established employment, followed by a separate class of people, fenced round by rules and customs of their own, and who at length grew to be both in their habits and peculiarities plainly distinct from the other classes among whom they chanced to be located.

There has been no historian among the dredgers of the Thames to record the commencement of the business, and the utmost that any of the river-finders can tell is that his father had been a dredger, and so had his father before him, and that that’s the reason why they are dredgers also. But no such people as dredgers were known on the Thames in remote days; and before London had become an important trading port, where nothing was likely to be got for the searching, it is not probable that people would have been induced to search. In those days, the only things searched for in the river were the bodies of persons drowned, accidentally or otherwise. For this purpose, the Thames fishermen of all others, appeared to be the best adapted. They were on the spot at all times, and had various sorts of tackle, such as nets, lines, hooks, &c. The fishermen well understood everything connected with the river, such as the various sets of the tide, and the nature of the bottom, and they were therefore on such occasions invariably applied to for these purposes.

It is known to all who remember anything of Old London Bridge, that at certain times of the tide, in consequence of the velocity with which the water rushed through the narrow apertures which the arches then afforded for its passage, to bring a boat in safety through the bridge was a feat to be attempted only by the skilful and experienced. This feat was known as “shooting” London Bridge; and it was no unusual thing for accidents to happen even to the most expert. In fact, numerous accidents occurred at this bridge, and at such times valuable articles were sometimes lost, for which high rewards were offered to the finder. Here again the fishermen came into requisition, the small drag-net, which they used while rowing, offering itself for the purpose; for, by fixing an iron frame round the mouth of the drag-net, this part of it, from its specific gravity, sunk first to the bottom, and consequently scraped along as they pulled forward, collecting into the net everything that came in its way; when it was nearly filled, which the rower always knew by the weight, it was hauled up to the surface, its contents examined, and the object lost generally recovered.

It is thus apparent that the fishermen of the Thames were the men originally employed as dredgermen; though casually, indeed, at first, and according as circumstances occurred requiring their services. By degrees, however, as the commerce of the river increased, and a greater number of articles fell overboard from the shipping, they came to be more frequently called into requisition, and so they were naturally led to adopt the dredging as part and parcel of their business. Thus it remains to the present day.

The fishermen all serve a regular apprenticeship, as they say themselves, “duly and truly” for seven years. During the time of their apprenticeship they are (or rather, in former times they were) obliged to sleep in their master’s boat at night to take care of his property, and were subject to many other curious regulations, which are foreign to this subject.

I have said that the fishermen of the Thames to the present day unite the dredging to their proper calling. By this I mean that they employ themselves in fishing during the summer and autumn, either from Barking Creek downwards, or from Chelsea Reach upwards, catching dabs, flounders, eels, and other sorts of fish for the London markets. But in winter when the days are short and cold, and the weather stormy, they prefer stopping at home, and dredging the bed of the river for anything they may chance to find. There are others, however, who have started wholly in the dredging line, there being no hindrance or impediment to any one doing so, nor any licence required for the purpose: these dredge the river winter and summer alike, and are, in fact, the only real dredgermen of the present day living solely by that occupation.

There are in all about 100 dredgermen at work on the river, and these are located as follows:--

Dredgermen. From Putney to Vauxhall there are 20 From Vauxhall to London-bridge 40 From London-bridge to Deptford 20 And from Deptford to Gravesend 20 --- 100

All these reside, in general, on the south side of the Thames, the two places most frequented by them being Lambeth and Rotherhithe. They do not, however, confine themselves to the neighbourhoods wherein they reside, but extend their operations to all parts of the river, where it is likely that they may pick up anything; and it is perfectly marvellous with what rapidity the intelligence of any accident calculated to afford them employment is spread among them; for should a loaded coal barge be sunk over night, by daylight the next morning every dredgerman would be sure to be upon the spot, prepared to collect what he could from the wreck at the bottom of the river.

The boats of the dredgermen are of a peculiar shape. They have no stern, but are the same fore and aft. They are called Peter boats, but not one of the men with whom I spoke had the least idea as to the origin of the name. These boats are to be had at almost all prices, according to their condition and age--from 30_s._ to 20_l._ The boats used by the fishermen dredgermen are decidedly the most valuable. One with the other, perhaps the whole may average 10_l._ each; and this sum will give 1000_l._ as the value of the entire number. A complete set of tackle, including drags, will cost 2_l._, which comes to 200_l._ for all hands; and thus we have the sum of 1200_l._ as the amount of capital invested in the dredging of the Thames.

It is by no means an easy matter to form any estimate of the earnings of the dredgermen, as they are a matter of mere chance. In former years, when Indiamen and all the foreign shipping lay in the river, the river finders were in the habit of doing a good business, not only in their own line, through the greater quantities of rope, bones, and other things which then were thrown or fell overboard, but they also contrived to smuggle ashore great quantities of tobacco, tea, spirits, and other contraband articles, and thought it a bad day’s work when they did not earn a pound independent of their dredging. An old dredger told me he had often in those days made 5_l._ before breakfast time. After the excavation of the various docks, and after the larger shipping had departed from the river, the finders were obliged to content themselves with the chances of mere dredging; and even then, I am informed, they were in the habit of earning one week with another throughout the year, about 25_s._ per week, each, or 6500_l._ per annum among all. Latterly, however, the earnings of these men have greatly fallen off, especially in the summer, for then they cannot get so good a price for the coal they find as in the winter--6_d._ per bushel being the summer price; and, as they consider three bushels a good day’s work, their earnings at this period of the year amount only to 1_s._ 6_d._ per day, excepting when they happen to pick up some bones or pieces of metal, or to find a dead body for which there is a reward. In the winter, however, the dredgermen can readily get 1_s._ per bushel for all the coals they find; and far more coals are to be found then than in summer, for there are more colliers in the river, and far more accidents at that season. Coal barges are often sunk in the winter, and on such occasions they make a good harvest. Moreover there is the finding of bodies, for which they not only get the reward, but 5_s._, which they call inquest money; together with many other chances, such as the finding of money and valuables among the rubbish they bring up from the bottom; but as the last-mentioned are accidents happening throughout the year, I am inclined to think that they have understated the amount which they are in the habit of realizing even in the summer.

The dredgers, as a class, may be said to be altogether uneducated, not half a dozen out of the whole number being able to read their own name, and only one or two to write it; this select few are considered by the rest as perfect prodigies. “Lor’ bless you!” said one, “I on’y wish you’d ’ear Bill S---- read; I on’y jist wish you’d ’ear him. Why that ere Bill can read faster nor a dog can trot. And, what’s more, I seed him write an ole letter hisself, ev’ry word on it! What do you think o’ that now?” The ignorance of the dredgermen may be accounted for by the men taking so early to the water; the bustle and excitement of the river being far more attractive to them than the routine of a school. Almost as soon as they are able to do anything, the dredgermen’s boys are taken by their fathers afloat to assist in picking out the coals, bones, and other things of any use, from the midst of the rubbish brought up in their drag-nets; or else the lads are sent on board as assistants to one or other of the fishermen during their fishing voyages. When once engaged in this way it has been found impossible afterwards to keep the youths from the water; and if they have learned anything previously they very soon forget it.

It might be expected that the dredgers, in a manner depending on chance for their livelihood, and leading a restless sort of life on the water, would closely resemble the costermongers in their habits; but it is far otherwise. There can be no two classes more dissimilar, except in their hatred of restraint. The dredgers are sober and steady; gambling is unknown amongst them; and they are, to an extraordinary degree, laborious, persevering, and patient. They are in general men of short stature, but square built, strong, and capable of enduring great fatigue, and have a silent and thoughtful look. Being almost always alone, and studying how they may best succeed in finding what they seek, marking the various sets of the tide, and the direction in which things falling into the water at a particular place must necessarily be carried, they become the very opposite to the other river people, especially to the watermen, who are brawling and clamorous, and delight in continually “chaffing” each other. In consequence of the sober and industrious habits of the dredgermen their homes are, as they say, “pretty fair” for working men, though there is nothing very luxurious to be found in them, nor indeed anything beyond what is absolutely necessary. After their day’s work, especially if they have “done well,” these men smoke a pipe over a pint or two of beer at the nearest public-house, get home early to bed, and if the tide answers may be found on the river patiently dredging away at two or three o’clock in the morning.

Whenever a loaded coal barge happens to sink, as I have already intimated, it is surprising how short a time elapses before that part of the river is alive with the dredgers. They flock thither from all parts. The river on such occasions presents a very animated appearance. At first they are all in a group, and apparently in confusion, crossing and re-crossing each other’s course; some with their oars pulled in while they examine the contents of their nets, and empty the coals into the bottom of their boats; others rowing and tugging against the stream, to obtain an advantageous position for the next cast; and when they consider they have found this, down go the dredging-nets to the bottom, and away they row again with the stream, as if pulling for a wager, till they find by the weight of their net that it is full; then they at once stop, haul it to the surface, and commence another course. Others who have been successful in getting their boats loaded may be seen pushing away from the main body, and making towards the shore. Here they busily employ themselves, with what help they can get, in emptying the boat of her cargo--carrying it ashore in old coal baskets, bushel measures, or anything else which will suit their purpose; and when this is completed they pull out again to join their comrades, and commence afresh. They continue working thus till the returning tide puts an end to their labours, but these are resumed after the tide has fallen to a certain depth; and so they go on, working night and day while there is anything to be got.

The dredgerman and his boat may be immediately distinguished from all others; there is nothing similar to them on the river. The sharp cutwater fore and aft, and short rounded appearance of the vessel, marks it out at once from the skiff or wherry of the waterman. There is, too, always the appearance of labour about the boat, like a ship returning after a long voyage, daubed and filthy, and looking sadly in need of a thorough cleansing. The grappling irons are over the bow, resting on a coil of rope; while the other end of the boat is filled with coals, bones, and old rope, mixed with the mud of the river. The ropes of the dredging-net hang over the side. A short stout figure, with a face soiled and blackened with perspiration, and surmounted by a tarred sou’-wester, the body habited in a soiled check shirt, with the sleeves turned up above the elbows, and exhibiting a pair of sunburnt brawny arms, is pulling at the sculls, not with the ease and lightness of the waterman, but toiling and tugging away like a galley slave, as he scours the bed of the river with his dredging-net in search of some hoped-for prize.

The dredgers, as was before stated, are the men who find almost all the bodies of persons drowned. If there be a reward offered for the recovery of a body, numbers of the dredgers will at once endeavour to obtain it, while if there be no reward, there is at least the inquest money to be had--beside other chances. What these chances are may be inferred from the well-known fact, that no body recovered by a dredgerman ever happens to have any money about it, when brought to shore. There may, indeed, be a watch in the fob or waistcoat pocket, for that article would be likely to be traced. There may, too, be a purse or pocket-book forthcoming, but somehow it is invariably empty. The dredgers cannot by any reasoning or argument be made to comprehend that there is anything like dishonesty in emptying the pockets of a dead man. They consider them as their just perquisites. They say that any one who finds a body does precisely the same, and that if they did not do so the police would. After having had all the trouble and labour, they allege that they have a much better right to whatever is to be got, than the police who have had nothing whatever to do with it. There are also people who shrewdly suspect that some of the coals from the barges lying in the river, very often find their way into the dredgers’ boats, especially when the dredgers are engaged in night-work; and there are even some who do not hold them guiltless of, now and then, when opportunity offers, smuggling things ashore from many of the steamers coming from foreign parts. But such things, I repeat, the dredgers consider in the fair way of their business.

One of the most industrious, and I believe one of the most skilful and successful of this peculiar class, gave me the following epitome of his history.

“Father was a dredger, and grandfather afore him; grandfather was a dredger and a fisherman too. A’most as soon as I was able to crawl, father took me with him in the boat to help him to pick the coals, and bones, and other things out of the net, and to use me to the water. When I got bigger and stronger, I was sent to the parish school, but I didn’t like it half as well as the boat, and couldn’t be got to stay two days together. At last I went above bridge, and went along with a fisherman, and used to sleep in the boat every night. I liked to sleep in the boat; I used to be as comfortable as could be. Lor bless you! there’s a tilt to them boats, and no rain can’t git at you. I used to lie awake of a night in them times, and listen to the water shipping ag’in the boat, and think it fine fun. I might a got bound ’prentice, but I got aboard a smack, where I stayed three or four year, and if I’d a stayed there, I’d a liked it much better. But I heerd as how father was ill, so I com’d home, and took to the dredging, and am at it off and on ever since. I got no larnin’, how could I? There’s on’y one or two of us dredgers as knows anything of larnin’, and they’re no better off than the rest. Larnin’s no use to a dredger, he hasn’t got no time to read; and if he had, why it wouldn’t tell him where the holes and furrows is at the bottom of the river, and where things is to be found. To be sure there’s holes and furrows at the bottom. I know a good many. I know a furrow off Lime’us Point, no wider nor the dredge, and I can go there, and when others can’t git anything but stones and mud, I can git four or five bushel o’ coal. You see they lay there; they get in with the set of the tide, and can’t git out so easy like. Dredgers don’t do so well now as they used to do. You know Pelican Stairs? well, before the Docks was built, when the ships lay there, I could go under Pelican Pier and pick up four or five shilling of a morning. What was that tho’ to father? I hear him say he often made 5_l._ afore breakfast, and nobody ever the wiser. Them were fine times! there was a good livin’ to be picked up on the water them days. About ten year ago, the fishermen at Lambeth, them as sarves their time ‘duly and truly’ thought to put us off the water, and went afore the Lord Mayor, but they couldn’t do nothink after all. They do better nor us, as they go fishin’ all the summer, when the dredgin’ is bad, and come back in winter. Some on us down here” [Rotherhithe] “go a deal-portering in the summer, or unloading ’tatoes, or anything else we can get; when we have nothin’ else to do, we go on the river. Father don’t dredge now, he’s too old for that; it takes a man to be strong to dredge, so father goes to ship scrapin’. He on’y sits on a plank outside the ship, and scrapes off the old tar with a scraper. We does very well for all that--why he can make his half a bull a day [2_s._ 6_d._] when he gits work, but that’s not always; howsomever I helps the old man at times, when I’m able. I’ve found a good many bodies. I got a many rewards, and a tidy bit of inquest money. There’s 5_s._ 6_d._ inquest money at Rotherhithe, and on’y a shillin’ at Deptford; I can’t make out how that is, but that’s all they give, I know. I never finds anythink on the bodies. Lor bless you! people don’t have anythink in their pockets when they gits drowned, they are not such fools as all that. Do you see them two marks there on the back of my hand? Well, one day--I was on’y young then--I was grabblin’ for old rope in Church Hole, when I brings up a body, and just as I was fixing the rope on his leg to tow him ashore, two swells comes down in a skiff, and lays hold of the painter of my boat, and tows me ashore. The hook of the drag went right thro’ the trowsers of the drowned man and my hand, and I couldn’t let go no how, and tho’ I roared out like mad, the swells didn’t care, but dragged me into the stairs. When I got there, my arm, and the corpse’s shoe and trowsers, was all kivered with my blood. What do you think the gents said?--why, they told me as how they had done me good, in towin’ the body in, and ran away up the stairs. Tho’ times ain’t near so good as they was, I manages purty tidy, and hasn’t got no occasion to hollor much; but there’s some of the dredgers as would hollor, if they was ever so well off.”

OF THE SEWER-HUNTERS.

Some few years ago, the main sewers, having their outlets on the river side, were completely open, so that any person desirous of exploring their dark and uninviting recesses might enter at the river side, and wander away, provided he could withstand the combination of villanous stenches which met him at every step, for many miles, in any direction. At that time it was a thing of very frequent occurrence, especially at the spring tides, for the water to rush into the sewers, pouring through them like a torrent, and then to burst up through the gratings into the streets, flooding all the low-lying districts in the vicinity of the river, till the streets of Shadwell and Wapping resembled a Dutch town, intersected by a series of muddy canals. Of late, however, to remedy this defect, the Commissioners have had a strong brick wall built within the entrance to the several sewers. In each of these brick walls there is an opening covered by a strong iron door, which hangs from the top and is so arranged that when the tide is low the rush of the water and other filth on the inner side, forces it back and allows the contents of the sewer to pass into the river, whilst when the tide rises the door is forced so close against the wall by the pressure of the water outside that none can by any possibility enter, and thus the river neighbourhoods are secured from the deluges which were heretofore of such frequent occurrence.

Were it not a notorious fact, it might perhaps be thought impossible, that men could be found who, for the chance of obtaining a living of some sort or other, would, day after day, and year after year, continue to travel through these underground channels for the offscouring of the city; but such is the case even at the present moment. In former times, however, this custom prevailed much more than now, for in those days the sewers were entirely open and presented no obstacle to any one desirous of entering them. Many wondrous tales are still told among the people of men having lost their way in the sewers, and of having wandered among the filthy passages--their lights extinguished by the noisome vapours--till, faint and overpowered, they dropped down and died on the spot. Other stories are told of sewer-hunters beset by myriads of enormous rats, and slaying thousands of them in their struggle for life, till at length the swarms of the savage things overpowered them, and in a few days afterwards their skeletons were discovered picked to the very bones. Since the iron doors, however, have been placed on the main sewers a prohibition has been issued against entering them, and a reward of 5_l._ offered to any person giving information so as to lead to the conviction of any offender. Nevertheless many still travel through these foul labyrinths, in search of such valuables as may have found their way down the drains.

The persons who are in the habit of searching the sewers, call themselves “shore-men” or “shore-workers.” They belong, in a certain degree, to the same class as the “mud-larks,” that is to say, they travel through the mud along shore in the neighbourhood of ship-building and ship-breaking yards, for the purpose of picking up copper nails, bolts, iron, and old rope. The shore-men, however, do not collect the lumps of coal and wood they meet with on their way, but leave them as the proper perquisites of the mud-larks. The sewer-hunters were formerly, and indeed are still, called by the name of “Toshers,” the articles which they pick up in the course of their wanderings along shore being known among themselves by the general term “tosh,” a word more particularly applied by them to anything made of copper. These “Toshers” may be seen, especially on the Surrey side of the Thames, habited in long greasy velveteen coats, furnished with pockets of vast capacity, and their nether limbs encased in dirty canvas trowsers, and any old slops of shoes, that may be fit only for wading through the mud. They carry a bag on their back, and in their hand a pole seven or eight feet long, on one end of which there is a large iron hoe. The uses of this instrument are various; with it they try the ground wherever it appears unsafe, before venturing on it, and, when assured of its safety, walk forward steadying their footsteps with the staff. Should they, as often happens, even to the most experienced, sink in some quagmire, they immediately throw out the long pole armed with the hoe, which is always held uppermost for this purpose, and with it seizing hold of any object within their reach, are thereby enabled to draw themselves out; without the pole, however, their danger would be greater, for the more they struggled to extricate themselves from such places, the deeper they would sink; and even with it, they might perish, I am told, in some part, if there were nobody at hand to render them assistance. Finally, they make use of this pole to rake about the mud when searching for iron, copper, rope, and bones. They mostly exhibit great skill in discovering these things in unlikely places, and have a knowledge of the various sets of the tide, calculated to carry articles to particular points, almost equal to the dredgermen themselves. Although they cannot “pick up” as much now as they formerly did, they are still able to make what they call a fair living, and can afford to look down with a species of aristocratic contempt on the puny efforts of their less fortunate brethren the “mudlarks.”

To enter the sewers and explore them to any considerable distance is considered, even by those acquainted with what is termed “working the shores,” an adventure of no small risk. There are a variety of perils to be encountered in such places. The brick-work in many parts--especially in the old sewers--has become rotten through the continual action of the putrefying matter and moisture, and parts have fallen down and choked up the passage with heaps of rubbish; over these obstructions, nevertheless, the sewer-hunters have to scramble “in the best way they can.” In such parts they are careful not to touch the brick-work over head, for the slightest tap might bring down an avalanche of old bricks and earth, and severely injure them, if not bury them in the rubbish. Since the construction of the new sewers, the old ones are in general abandoned by the “hunters;” but in many places the former channels cross and re-cross those recently constructed, and in the old sewers a person is very likely to lose his way. It is dangerous to venture far into any of the smaller sewers branching off from the main, for in this the “hunters” have to stoop low down in order to proceed; and, from the confined space, there are often accumulated in such places, large quantities of foul air, which, as one of them stated, will “cause instantious death.” Moreover, far from there being any romance in the tales told of the rats, these vermin are really numerous and formidable in the sewers, and have been known, I am assured, to attack men when alone, and even sometimes when accompanied by others, with such fury that the people have escaped from them with difficulty. They are particularly ferocious and dangerous, if they be driven into some corner whence they cannot escape, when they will immediately fly at any one that opposes their progress. I received a similar account to this from one of the London flushermen. There are moreover, in some quarters, ditches or trenches which are filled as the water rushes up the sewers with the tide; in these ditches the water is retained by a sluice, which is shut down at high tide, and lifted again at low tide, when it rushes down the sewers with all the violence of a mountain torrent, sweeping everything before it. If the sewer-hunter be not close to some branch sewer, so that he can run into it, whenever the opening of these sluices takes place, he must inevitably perish. The trenches or water reservoirs for the cleansing of the sewers are chiefly on the south side of the river, and, as a proof of the great danger to which the sewer-hunters are exposed in such cases, it may be stated, that not very long ago, a sewer on the south side of the Thames was opened to be repaired; a long ladder reached to the bottom of the sewer, down which the bricklayer’s labourer was going with a hod of bricks, when the rush of water from the sluice, struck the bottom of the ladder, and instantly swept away ladder, labourer, and all. The bricklayer fortunately was enjoying his “pint and pipe” at a neighbouring public-house. The labourer was found by my informant, a “shore-worker,” near the mouth of the sewer quite dead, battered, and disfigured in a frightful manner. There was likewise great danger in former times from the rising of the tide in the sewers, so that it was necessary for the shore-men to have quitted them before the water had got any height within the entrance. At present, however, this is obviated in those sewers where the main is furnished with an iron door towards the river.

The shore-workers, when about to enter the sewers, provide themselves, in addition to the long hoe already described, with a canvas apron, which they tie round them, and a dark lantern similar to a policeman’s; this they strap before them on their right breast, in such a manner that on removing the shade, the bull’s-eye throws the light straight forward when they are in an erect position, and enables them to see everything in advance of them for some distance; but when they stoop, it throws the light directly under them, so that they can then distinctly see any object at their feet. The sewer-hunters usually go in gangs of three or four for the sake of company, and in order that they may be the better able to defend themselves from the rats. The old hands who have been often up (and every gang endeavours to include at least one experienced person), travel a long distance, not only through the main sewers, but also through many of the branches. Whenever the shore-men come near a street grating, they close their lanterns and watch their opportunity of gliding silently past unobserved, for otherwise a crowd might collect over head and intimate to the policeman on duty, that there were persons wandering in the sewers below. The shore-workers never take dogs with them, lest their barking when hunting the rats might excite attention. As the men go along they search the bottom of the sewer, raking away the mud with their hoe, and pick, from between the crevices of the brick-work, money, or anything else that may have lodged there. There are in many parts of the sewers holes where the brick-work has been worn away, and in these holes clusters of articles are found, which have been washed into them from time to time, and perhaps been collecting there for years; such as pieces of iron, nails, various scraps of metal, coins of every description, all rusted into a mass like a rock, and weighing from a half hundred to two hundred weight altogether. These “conglomerates” of metal are too heavy for the men to take out of the sewers, so that if unable to break them up, they are compelled to leave them behind; and there are very many such masses, I am informed, lying in the sewers at this moment, of immense weight, and growing larger every day by continual additions. The shore-men find great quantities of money--of copper money especially; sometimes they dive their arm down to the elbow in the mud and filth and bring up shillings, sixpences, half-crowns, and occasionally half-sovereigns and sovereigns. They always find the coins standing edge uppermost between the bricks in the bottom, where the mortar has been worn away. The sewer-hunters occasionally find plate, such as spoons, ladles, silver-handled knives and forks, mugs and drinking cups, and now and then articles of jewellery; but even while thus “in luck” as they call it, they do not omit to fill the bags on their backs with the more cumbrous articles they meet with--such as metals of every description, rope and bones. There is always a great quantity of these things to be met with in the sewers, they being continually washed down from the cesspools and drains of the houses. When the sewer-hunters consider they have searched long enough, or when they have found as much as they can conveniently take away, the gang leave the sewers and, adjourning to the nearest of their homes, count out the money they have picked up, and proceed to dispose of the old metal, bones, rope, &c.; this done, they then, as they term it, “whack” the whole lot; that is, they divide it equally among all hands. At these divisions, I am assured, it frequently occurs that each member of the gang will realise from 30_s._ to 2_l._--this at least was a frequent occurrence some few years ago. Of late, however, the shore-men are obliged to use far more caution, as the police, and especially those connected with the river, who are more on the alert, as well as many of the coal-merchants in the neighbourhood of the sewers, would give information if they saw any suspicious persons approaching them.

The principal localities in which the shore-hunters reside are in Mint-square, Mint-street, and Kent-street, in the Borough--Snow’s-fields, Bermondsey--and that never-failing locality between the London Docks and Rosemary-lane which appears to be a concentration of all the misery of the kingdom. There were known to be a few years ago nearly 200 sewer-hunters, or “toshers,” and, incredible as it may appear, I have satisfied myself that, taking one week with another, they could not be said to make much short of 2_l._ per week. Their probable gains, I was told, were about 6_s._ per day all the year round. At this rate the property recovered from the sewers of London would have amounted to no less than 20,000_l._ per annum, which would make the amount of property lost down the drains of each house amount to 1_s._ 4_d._ a year. The shore-hunters of the present day greatly complain of the recent restrictions, and inveigh in no measured terms against the constituted authorities. “They won’t let us in to work the shores,” say they, “’cause there’s a little danger. They fears as how we’ll get suffocated, at least they tells us so; but they don’t care if we get starved! no, they doesn’t mind nothink about that.”

It is, however, more than suspected that these men find plenty of means to evade the vigilance of the sewer officials, and continue quietly to reap a considerable harvest, gathered whence it might otherwise have rotted in obscurity.

The sewer-hunters, strange as it may appear, are certainly smart fellows, and take decided precedence of all the other “finders” of London, whether by land or water, both on account of the greater amount of their earnings, and the skill and courage they manifest in the pursuit of their dangerous employment. But like all who make a living as it were by a game of chance, plodding, carefulness, and saving habits cannot be reckoned among their virtues; they are improvident, even to a proverb. With their gains, superior even to those of the better-paid artizans, and far beyond the amount received by many clerks, who have to maintain a “respectable appearance,” the shore-men might, with but ordinary prudence, live well, have comfortable homes, and even be able to save sufficient to provide for themselves in their old age. Their practice, however, is directly the reverse. They no sooner make a “haul,” as they say, than they adjourn to some low public-house in the neighbourhood, and seldom leave till empty pockets and hungry stomachs drive them forth to procure the means for a fresh debauch. It is principally on this account that, despite their large gains, they are to be found located in the most wretched quarter of the metropolis.

It might be supposed that the sewer-hunters (passing much of their time in the midst of the noisome vapours generated by the sewers, the odour of which, escaping upwards from the gratings in the streets, is dreaded and shunned by all as something pestilential) would exhibit in their pallid faces the unmistakable evidence of their unhealthy employment. But this is far from the fact. Strange to say, the sewer-hunters are strong, robust, and healthy men, generally florid in their complexion, while many of them know illness only by name. Some of the elder men, who head the gangs when exploring the sewers, are between 60 and 80 years of age, and have followed the employment during their whole lives. The men appear to have a fixed belief that the odour of the sewers contributes in a variety of ways to their general health; nevertheless, they admit that accidents occasionally occur from the air in some places being fully impregnated with mephitic gas.

I found one of these men, from whom I derived much information, and who is really an active intelligent man, in a court off Rosemary-lane. Access is gained to this court through a dark narrow entrance, scarcely wider than a doorway, running beneath the first floor of one of the houses in the adjoining street. The court itself is about 50 yards long, and not more than three yards wide, surrounded by lofty wooden houses, with jutting abutments in many of the upper stories that almost exclude the light, and give them the appearance of being about to tumble down upon the heads of the intruders. This court is densely inhabited; every room has its own family, more or less in number; and in many of them, I am assured, there are two families residing, the better to enable the one to whom the room is let to pay the rent. At the time of my visit, which was in the evening, after the inmates had returned from their various employments, some quarrel had arisen among them. The court was so thronged with the friends of the contending individuals and spectators of the fight that I was obliged to stand at the entrance, unable to force my way through the dense multitude, while labourers and street-folk with shaggy heads, and women with dirty caps and fuzzy hair, thronged every window above, and peered down anxiously at the affray. There must have been some hundreds of people collected there, and yet all were inhabitants of this very court, for the noise of the quarrel had not yet reached the street. On wondering at the number, my informant, when the noise had ceased, explained the matter as follows: “You see, sir, there’s more than 30 houses in this here court, and there’s not less than eight rooms in every house; now there’s nine or ten people in some of the rooms, I knows, but just say four in every room, and calculate what that there comes to.” I did, and found it, to my surprise, to be 960. “Well,” continued my informant, chuckling and rubbing his hands in evident delight at the result, “you may as well just tack a couple a hundred on to the tail o’ them for make-weight, as we’re not werry pertikler about a hundred or two one way or the other in these here places.”

In this court, up three flights of narrow stairs that creaked and trembled at every footstep, and in an ill-furnished garret, dwelt the shore-worker--a man who, had he been careful, according to his own account at least, might have money in the bank and be the proprietor of the house in which he lived. The sewer-hunters, like the street-people, are all known by some peculiar nickname, derived chiefly from some personal characteristic. It would be a waste of time to inquire for them by their right names, even if you were acquainted with them, for none else would know them, and no intelligence concerning them could be obtained; while under the title of Lanky Bill, Long Tom, One-eyed George, Short-armed Jack, they are known to every one.

My informant, who is also dignified with a title, or as he calls it a “handle to his name,” gave me the following account of himself: “I was born in Birmingham, but afore I recollects anythink, we came to London. The first thing I remembers is being down on the shore at Cuckold’s P’int, when the tide was out and up to my knees in mud, and a gitting down deeper and deeper every minute till I was picked up by one of the shore-workers. I used to git down there every day, to look at the ships and boats a sailing up and down; I’d niver be tired a looking at them at that time. At last father ’prenticed me to a blacksmith in Bermondsey, and then I couldn’t git down to the river when I liked, so I got to hate the forge and the fire, and blowing the bellows, and couldn’t stand the confinement no how,--at last I cuts and runs. After some time they gits me back ag’in, but I cuts ag’in. I was determined not to stand it. I wouldn’t go home for fear I’d be sent back, so I goes down to Cuckold’s P’int and there I sits near half the day, when who should I see but the old un as had picked me up out of the mud when I was a sinking. I tells him all about it, and he takes me home along with hisself, and gits me a bag and an o, and takes me out next day, and shows me what to do, and shows me the dangerous places, and the places what are safe, and how to rake in the mud for rope, and bones, and iron, and that’s the way I comed to be a shore-worker. Lor’ bless you, I’ve worked Cuckold’s P’int for more nor twenty year. I know places where you’d go over head and ears in the mud, and jist alongside on ’em you may walk as safe as you can on this floor. But it don’t do for a stranger to try it, he’d wery soon git in, and it’s not so easy to git out agin, I can tell you. I stay’d with the old un a long time, and we used to git lots o’ tin, specially when we’d go to work the sewers. I liked that well enough. I could git into small places where the old un couldn’t, and when I’d got near the grating in the street, I’d search about in the bottom of the sewer; I’d put down my arm to my shoulder in the mud and bring up shillings and half-crowns, and lots of coppers, and plenty other things. I once found a silver jug as big as a quart pot, and often found spoons and knives and forks and every thing you can think of. Bless your heart the smells nothink; it’s a roughish smell at first, but nothink near so bad as you thinks, ’cause, you see, there’s sich lots o’ water always a coming down the sewer, and the air gits in from the gratings, and that helps to sweeten it a bit. There’s some places, ’specially in the old sewers, where they say there’s foul air, and they tells me the foul air ’ill cause instantious death, but I niver met with anythink of the kind, and I think if there was sich a thing I should know somethink about it, for I’ve worked the sewers, off and on, for twenty year. When we comes to a narrow-place as we don’t know, we takes the candle out of the lantern and fastens it on the hend of the o, and then runs it up the sewer, and if the light stays in, we knows as there a’n’t no danger. We used to go up the city sewer at Blackfriars-bridge, but that’s stopped up now; it’s boarded across inside. The city wouldn’t let us up if they knew it, ’cause of the danger, they say, but they don’t care if we hav’n’t got nothink to eat nor a place to put our heads in, while there’s plenty of money lying there and good for nobody. If you was caught up it and brought afore the Lord Mayor, he’d give you fourteen days on it, as safe as the bellows, so a good many on us now is afraid to wenture in. We don’t wenture as we used to, but still it’s done at times. There’s a many places as I knows on where the bricks has fallen down, and that there’s dangerous; it’s so delaberated that if you touches it with your head or with the hend of the o, it ’ill all come down atop o’ you. I’ve often seed as many as a hundred rats at once, and they’re woppers in the sewers, I can tell you; them there water rats, too, is far more ferociouser than any other rats, and they’d think nothink of tackling a man, if they found they couldn’t get away no how, but if they can why they runs by and gits out o’ the road. I knows a chap as the rats tackled in the sewers; they bit him hawfully: you must ha’ heard on it; it was him as the watermen went in arter when they heard him a shouting as they was a rowin’ by. Only for the watermen the rats would ha’ done for him, safe enough. Do you recollect hearing on the man as was found in the sewers about twelve year ago?--oh you must--the rats eat every bit of him, and left nothink but his bones. I knowed him well, he was a rig’lar shore-worker.

“The rats is wery dangerous, that’s sartain, but we always goes three or four on us together, and the varmint’s too wide awake to tackle us then, for they know they’d git off second best. You can go a long way in the sewers if you like; I don’t know how far. I niver was at the end on them myself, for a cove can’t stop in longer than six or seven hour, ’cause of the tide; you must be out before that’s up. There’s a many branches on ivery side, but we don’t go into all; we go where we know, and where we’re always sure to find somethink. I know a place now where there’s more than two or three hundred weight of metal all rusted together, and plenty of money among it too; but it’s too heavy to carry it out, so it ’ill stop there I s’pose till the world comes to an end. I often brought out a piece of metal half a hundred in weight, and took it under the harch of the bridge, and broke it up with a large stone to pick out the money. I’ve found sovereigns and half sovereigns over and over ag’in, and three on us has often cleared a couple of pound apiece in one day out of the sewers. But we no sooner got the money than the publican had it. I only wish I’d back all the money I’ve guv to the publican, and I wouldn’t care how the wind blew for the rest of my life. I never thought about taking a hammer along with me into the sewer, no; I never thought I’d want it. You can’t go in every day, the tides don’t answer, and they’re so pertikler now, far more pertikler than formerly; if you was known to touch the traps, you’d git hauled up afore the beak. It’s done for all that, and though there is so many eyes about. The “Johnnys” on the water are always on the look out, and if they sees any on us about, we has to cut our lucky. We shore workers sometimes does very well other ways. When we hears of a fire anywheres, we goes and watches where they shoots the rubbish, and then we goes and sifts it over, and washes it afterwards, then all the metal sinks to the bottom. The way we does it is this here: we takes a barrel cut in half, and fills it with water, and then we shovels in the siftings, and stirs ’em round and round and round with a stick; then we throws out that water and puts in some fresh, and stirs that there round ag’in; arter some time the water gets clear, and every thing heavy’s fell to the bottom, and then we sees what it is and picks it out. I’ve made from a pound to thirty shilling a day, at that there work on lead alone. The time the Parliament Houses was burnt, the rubbish was shot in Hyde Park, and Long J---- and I goes to work it, and while we were at it, we didn’t make less nor three pounds apiece a day; we found sovereigns and half sovereigns, and lots of silver half melted away, and jewellery, such as rings, and stones, and brooches; but we never got half paid for them. I found two sets of bracelets for a lady’s arms, and took ’em to a jeweller, and he tried them jist where the “great” heat had melted the catch away, and found they was only metal double plated, or else he said as how he’d give us thirty pounds for them; howsomever, we takes them down to a Jew in Petticoat-lane, who used to buy things of us, and he gives us 7_l._ 10_s._ for ’em. We found so many things, that at last Long J---- and I got to quarrel about the “whacking;” there was cheatin’ a goin’ on; it wasn’t all fair and above board as it ought to be, so we gits to fightin’, and kicks up sich a jolly row, that they wouldn’t let us work no more, and takes and buries the whole on the rubbish. There’s plenty o’ things under the ground along with it now, if anybody could git at them. There was jist two loads o’ rubbish shot at one time in Bishop Bonner’s-fields, which I worked by myself, and what do you think I made out of that there?--why I made 3_l._ 5_s._ The rubbish was got out of a cellar, what hadn’t been stirred for fifty year or more, so I thinks there ought to be somethink in it, and I keeps my eye on it, and watches where it’s shot; then I turns to work, and the first thing I gits hold on is a chain, which I takes to be copper; it was so dirty, but it turned out to be all solid goold, and I gets 1_l._ 5_s._ for it from the Jew; arter that I finds lots o’ coppers, and silver money, and many things besides. The reason I likes this sort of life is, ’cause I can sit down when I likes, and nobody can’t order me about. When I’m hard up, I knows as how I must work, and then I goes at it like sticks a breaking; and tho’ the times isn’t as they was, I can go now and pick up my four or five bob a day, where another wouldn’t know how to get a brass farden.”

There is a strange tale in existence among the shore-workers, of a race of wild hogs inhabiting the sewers in the neighbourhood of Hampstead. The story runs, that a sow in young, by some accident got down the sewer through an opening, and, wandering away from the spot, littered and reared her offspring in the drain, feeding on the offal and garbage washed into it continually. Here, it is alleged, the breed multiplied exceedingly, and have become almost as ferocious as they are numerous. This story, apocryphal as it seems, has nevertheless its believers, and it is ingeniously argued, that the reason why none of the subterranean animals have been able to make their way to the light of day is, that they could only do so by reaching the mouth of the sewer at the river-side, while, in order to arrive at that point, they must necessarily encounter the Fleet ditch, which runs towards the river with great rapidity, and as it is the obstinate nature of a pig to swim against the stream, the wild hogs of the sewers invariably work their way back to their original quarters, and are thus never to be seen. What seems strange in the matter is, that the inhabitants of Hampstead never have been known to see any of these animals pass beneath the gratings, nor to have been disturbed by their gruntings. The reader of course can believe as much of the story as he pleases, and it is right to inform him that the sewer-hunters themselves have never yet encountered any of the fabulous monsters of the Hampstead sewers.

OF THE MUD-LARKS.

There is another class who may be termed river-finders, although their occupation is connected only with the shore; they are commonly known by the name of “mud-larks,” from being compelled, in order to obtain the articles they seek, to wade sometimes up to their middle through the mud left on the shore by the retiring tide. These poor creatures are certainly about the most deplorable in their appearance of any I have met with in the course of my inquiries. They may be seen of all ages, from mere childhood to positive decrepitude, crawling among the barges at the various wharfs along the river; it cannot be said that they are clad in rags, for they are scarcely half covered by the tattered indescribable things that serve them for clothing; their bodies are grimed with the foul soil of the river, and their torn garments stiffened up like boards with dirt of every possible description.

Among the mud-larks may be seen many old women, and it is indeed pitiable to behold them, especially during the winter, bent nearly double with age and infirmity, paddling and groping among the wet mud for small pieces of coal, chips of wood, or any sort of refuse washed up by the tide. These women always have with them an old basket or an old tin kettle, in which they put whatever they chance to find. It usually takes them a whole tide to fill this receptacle, but when filled, it is as much as the feeble old creatures are able to carry home.

The mud-larks generally live in some court or alley in the neighbourhood of the river, and, as the tide recedes, crowds of boys and little girls, some old men, and many old women, may be observed loitering about the various stairs, watching eagerly for the opportunity to commence their labours. When the tide is sufficiently low they scatter themselves along the shore, separating from each other, and soon disappear among the craft lying about in every direction. This is the case on both sides of the river, as high up as there is anything to be found, extending as far as Vauxhall-bridge, and as low down as Woolwich. The mud-larks themselves, however, know only those who reside near them, and whom they are accustomed to meet in their daily pursuits; indeed, with but few exceptions, these people are dull, and apparently stupid; this is observable particularly among the boys and girls, who, when engaged in searching the mud, hold but little converse one with another. The men and women may be passed and repassed, but they notice no one; they never speak, but with a stolid look of wretchedness they plash their way through the mire, their bodies bent down while they peer anxiously about, and occasionally stoop to pick up some paltry treasure that falls in their way.

The mud-larks collect whatever they happen to find, such as coals, bits of old-iron, rope, bones, and copper nails that drop from ships while lying or repairing along shore. Copper nails are the most valuable of all the articles they find, but these they seldom obtain, as they are always driven from the neighbourhood of a ship while being new-sheathed. Sometimes the younger and bolder mud-larks venture on sweeping some empty coal-barge, and one little fellow with whom I spoke, having been lately caught in the act of so doing, had to undergo for the offence seven days’ imprisonment in the House of Correction: this, he says, he liked much better than mud-larking, for while he staid there he wore a coat and shoes and stockings, and though he had not over much to eat, he certainly was never afraid of going to bed without anything at all--as he often had to do when at liberty. He thought he would try it on again in the winter, he told me, saying, it would be so comfortable to have clothes and shoes and stockings then, and not be obliged to go into the cold wet mud of a morning.

The coals that the mud-larks find, they sell to the poor people of the neighbourhood at 1_d._ per pot, holding about 14 lbs. The iron and bones and rope and copper nails which they collect, they sell at the rag-shops. They dispose of the iron at 5 lbs. for 1_d._, the bones at 3 lbs. a 1_d._, rope a 1/2_d._ per lb. wet, and 3/4_d._ per lb. dry, and copper nails at the rate of 4_d._ per lb. They occasionally pick up tools, such as saws and hammers; these they dispose of to the seamen for biscuit and meat, and sometimes sell them at the rag-shops for a few halfpence. In this manner they earn from 2-1/2_d._ to 8_d._ per day, but rarely the latter sum; their average gains may be estimated at about 3_d._ per day. The boys, after leaving the river, sometimes scrape their trousers, and frequent the cab-stands, and try to earn a trifle by opening the cab-doors for those who enter them, or by holding gentlemen’s horses. Some of them go, in the evening, to a ragged school, in the neighbourhood of which they live; more, as they say, because other boys go there, than from any desire to learn.

At one of the stairs in the neighbourhood of the pool, I collected about a dozen of these unfortunate children; there was not one of them over twelve years of age, and many of them were but six. It would be almost impossible to describe the wretched group, so motley was their appearance, so extraordinary their dress, and so stolid and inexpressive their countenances. Some carried baskets, filled with the produce of their morning’s work, and others old tin kettles with iron handles. Some, for want of these articles, had old hats filled with the bones and coals they had picked up; and others, more needy still, had actually taken the caps from their own heads, and filled them with what they had happened to find. The muddy slush was dripping from their clothes and utensils, and forming a puddle in which they stood. There did not appear to be among the whole group as many filthy cotton rags to their backs as, when stitched together, would have been sufficient to form the material of one shirt. There were the remnants of one or two jackets among them, but so begrimed and tattered that it would have been difficult to have determined either the original material or make of the garment. On questioning one, he said his father was a coal-backer; he had been dead eight years; the boy was nine years old. His mother was alive; she went out charing and washing when she could get any such work to do. She had 1_s._ a day when she could get employment, but that was not often; he remembered once to have had a pair of shoes, but it was a long time since. “It is very cold in winter,” he said, “to stand in the mud without shoes,” but he did not mind it in summer. He had been three years mud-larking, and supposed he should remain a mud-lark all his life. What else could he be? for there was nothing else that he knew how to do. Some days he earned 1_d._, and some days 4_d._; he never earned 8_d._ in one day, that would have been a “jolly lot of money.” He never found a saw or a hammer, he “only wished” he could, they would be glad to get hold of them at the dolly’s. He had been one month at school before he went mud-larking. Some time ago he had gone to the ragged-school; but he no longer went there, for he forgot it. He could neither read nor write, and did not think he could learn if he tried “ever so much.” He didn’t know what religion his father and mother were, nor did know what religion meant. God was God, he said. He had heard he was good, but didn’t know what good he was to him. He thought he was a Christian, but he didn’t know what a Christian was. He had heard of Jesus Christ once, when he went to a Catholic chapel, but he never heard tell of who or what he was, and didn’t “particular care” about knowing. His father and mother were born in Aberdeen, but he didn’t know where Aberdeen was. London was England, and England, he said, was in London, but he couldn’t tell in what part. He could not tell where he would go to when he died, and didn’t believe any one could tell that. Prayers, he told me, were what people said to themselves at night. He never said any, and didn’t know any; his mother sometimes used to speak to him about them, but he could never learn any. His mother didn’t go to church or to chapel, because she had no clothes. All the money he got he gave to his mother, and she bought bread with it, and when they had no money they lived the best way they could.

Such was the amount of intelligence manifested by this unfortunate child.

Another was only seven years old. He stated that his father was a sailor who had been hurt on board ship, and been unable to go to sea for the last two years. He had two brothers and a sister, one of them older than himself; and his elder brother was a mud-lark like himself. The two had been mud-larking more than a year; they went because they saw other boys go, and knew that they got money for the things they found. They were often hungry, and glad to do anything to get something to eat. Their father was not able to earn anything, and their mother could get but little to do. They gave all the money they earned to their mother. They didn’t gamble, and play at pitch and toss when they had got some money, but some of the big boys did on the Sunday, when they didn’t go a mud-larking. He couldn’t tell why they did nothing on a Sunday, “only they didn’t;” though sometimes they looked about to see where the best place would be on the next day. He didn’t go to the ragged school; he should like to know how to read a book, though he couldn’t tell what good it would do him. He didn’t like mud larking, would be glad of something else, but didn’t know anything else that he could do.

Another of the boys was the son of a dock labourer,--casually employed. He was between seven and eight years of age, and his sister, who was also a mud-lark, formed one of the group. The mother of these two was dead, and there were three children younger than themselves.

The rest of the histories may easily be imagined, for there was a painful uniformity in the stories of all the children: they were either the children of the very poor, who, by their own improvidence or some overwhelming calamity, had been reduced to the extremity of distress, or else they were orphans, and compelled from utter destitution to seek for the means of appeasing their hunger in the mud of the river. That the majority of this class are ignorant, and without even the rudiments of education, and that many of them from time to time are committed to prison for petty thefts, cannot be wondered at. Nor can it even excite our astonishment that, once within the walls of a prison, and finding how much more comfortable it is than their previous condition, they should return to it repeatedly. As for the females growing up under such circumstances, the worst may be anticipated of them; and in proof of this I have found, upon inquiry, that very many of the unfortunate creatures who swell the tide of prostitution in Ratcliff-highway, and other low neighbourhoods in the East of London, have originally been mud-larks; and only remained at that occupation till such time as they were capable of adopting the more easy and more lucrative life of the prostitute.

As to the numbers and earnings of the mud-larks, the following calculations fall short of, rather than exceed, the truth. From Execution Dock to the lower part of Limehouse Hole, there are 14 stairs or landing-places, by which the mud-larks descend to the shore in order to pursue their employment. There are about as many on the opposite side of the water similarly frequented.

At King James’ Stairs, in Wapping Wall, which is nearly a central position, from 40 to 50 mud-larks go down daily to the river; the mud-larks “using” the other stairs are not so numerous. If, therefore, we reckon the number of stairs on both sides of the river at 28, and the average number of mud-larks frequenting them at 10 each, we shall have a total of 280. Each mud-lark, it has been shown, earns on an average 3_d._ a day, or 1_s._ 6_d._ per week; so that the annual earnings of each will be 3_l._ 18_s._, or say 4_l._, a year, and hence the gross earnings of the 280 will amount to rather more than 1000_l._ per annum.

But there are, in addition to the mud-larks employed in the neighbourhood of what may be called the pool, many others who work down the river at various places as far as Blackwall, on the one side, and at Deptford, Greenwich, and Woolwich, on the other. These frequent the neighbourhoods of the various “yards” along shore, where vessels are being built; and whence, at certain times, chips, small pieces of wood, bits of iron, and copper nails, are washed out into the river. There is but little doubt that this portion of the class earn much more than the mud-larks of the pool, seeing that they are especially convenient to the places where the iron vessels are constructed; so that the presumption is, that the number of mud-larks “at work” on the banks of the Thames (especially if we include those above bridge), and the value of the property extracted by them from the mud of the river, may be fairly estimated at double that which is stated above, or say 550 gaining 2000_l._ per annum.

As an illustration of the doctrines I have endeavoured to enforce throughout this publication, I cite the following history of one of the above class. It may serve to teach those who are still sceptical as to the degrading influence of circumstances upon the poor, that many of the humbler classes, if placed in the same easy position as ourselves, would become, perhaps, quite as “respectable” members of society.

The lad of whom I speak was discovered by me now nearly two years ago “mud-larking” on the banks of the river near the docks. He was a quick, intelligent little fellow, and had been at the business, he told me, about three years. He had taken to mud-larking, he said, because his clothes were too bad for him to look for anything better. He worked every day, with 20 or 30 boys, who might all be seen at daybreak with their trowsers tucked up, groping about, and picking out the pieces of coal from the mud on the banks of the Thames. He went into the river up to his knees, and in searching the mud he often ran pieces of glass and long nails into his feet. When this was the case, he went home and dressed the wounds, but returned to the river-side directly, “for should the tide come up,” he added, “without my having found something, why I must starve till next low tide.” In the very cold weather he and his other shoeless companions used to stand in the hot water that ran down the river side from some of the steam-factories, to warm their frozen feet.

At first he found it difficult to keep his footing in the mud, and he had known many beginners fall in. He came to my house, at my request, the morning after my first meeting with him. It was the depth of winter, and the poor little fellow was nearly destitute of clothing. His trousers were worn away up to his knees, he had no shirt, and his legs and feet (which were bare) were covered with chilblains. On being questioned by me he gave the following account of his life:--

He was fourteen years old. He had two sisters, one fifteen and the other twelve years of age. His father had been dead nine years. The man had been a coal-whipper, and, from getting his work from one of the publican employers in those days, had become a confirmed drunkard. When he married he held a situation in a warehouse, where his wife managed the first year to save 4_l._ 10_s._ out of her husband’s earnings; but from the day he took to coal-whipping she had never saved one halfpenny, indeed she and her children were often left to starve. The man (whilst in a state of intoxication) had fallen between two barges, and the injuries he received had been so severe that he had lingered in a helpless state for three years before his death. After her husband’s decease the poor woman’s neighbours subscribed 1_l._ 5_s._ for her; with this sum she opened a greengrocer’s shop, and got on very well for five years.

When the boy was nine years old his mother sent him to the Red Lion school at Green-bank, near Old Gravel-lane, Ratcliffe-highway; she paid 1_d._ a week for his learning. He remained there for a year; then the potato-rot came, and his mother lost upon all she bought. About the same time two of her customers died 30_s._ in her debt; this loss, together with the potato-disease, completely ruined her, and the whole family had been in the greatest poverty from that period. Then she was obliged to take all her children from their school, that they might help to keep themselves as best they could. Her eldest girl sold fish in the streets, and the boy went to the river-side to “pick up” his living. The change, however, was so great that shortly afterwards the little fellow lay ill eighteen weeks with the ague. As soon as the boy recovered his mother and his two sisters were “taken bad” with a fever. The poor woman went into the “Great House,” and the children were taken to the Fever Hospital. When the mother returned home she was too weak to work, and all she had to depend on was what her boy brought from the river. They had nothing to eat and no money until the little fellow had been down to the shore and picked up some coals, selling them for a trifle. “And hard enough he had to work for what he got, poor boy,” said his mother to me on a future occasion, sobbing; “still he never complained, but was quite proud when he brought home enough for us to get a bit of meat with; and when he has sometimes seen me down-hearted, he has clung round my neck, and assured me that one day God would see us cared for if I would put my trust in Him.” As soon as his mother was well enough she sold fruit in the streets, or went out washing when she could get a day’s work.

The lad suffered much from the pieces of broken glass in the mud. Some little time before I met with him he had run a copper nail into his foot. This lamed him for three months, and his mother was obliged to carry him on her back every morning to the doctor. As soon, however, as he could “hobble” (to use his mother’s own words) he went back to the river, and often returned (after many hours’ hard work in the mud) with only a few pieces of coal, not enough to sell even to get them a bit of bread. One evening, as he was warming his feet in the water that ran from a steam factory, he heard some boys talking about the Ragged School in High-street, Wapping.

“They was saying what they used to learn there,” added the boy. “They asked me to come along with them for it was great fun. They told me that all the boys used to be laughing and making game of the master. They said they used to put out the gas and chuck the slates all about. They told me, too, that there was a good fire there, so I went to have a warm and see what it was like. When I got there the master was very kind to me. They used to give us tea-parties, and to keep us quiet they used to show us the magic lantern. I soon got to like going there, and went every night for six months. There was about 40 or 50 boys in the school. The most of them was thieves, and they used to go thieving the coals out of barges along shore, and cutting the ropes off ships, and going and selling it at the rag-shops. They used to get 3/4_d._ a lb. for the rope when dry, and 1/2_d._ when wet. Some used to steal pudding out of shops and hand it to those outside, and the last boy it was handed to would go off with it. They used to steal bacon and bread sometimes as well. About half of the boys at the school was thieves. Some had work to do at ironmongers, lead-factories, engineers, soap-boilers, and so on, and some had no work to do and was good boys still. After we came out of school at nine o’clock at night, some of the bad boys would go a thieving, perhaps half-a-dozen and from that to eight would go out in a gang together. There was one big boy of the name of C----; he was 18 years old, and is in prison now for stealing bacon; I think he is in the House of Correction. This C---- used to go out of school before any of us, and wait outside the door as the other boys came out. Then he would call the boys he wanted for his gangs on one side, and tell them where to go and steal. He used to look out in the daytime for shops where things could be ‘prigged,’ and at night he would tell the boys to go to them. He was called the captain of the gangs. He had about three gangs altogether with him, and there were from six to eight boys in each gang. The boys used to bring what they stole to C----, and he used to share it with them. I belonged to one of the gangs. There were six boys altogether in my gang; the biggest lad, that knowed all about the thieving, was the captain of the gang I was in, and C---- was captain over him and over all of us.

“There was two brothers of them; you seed them, sir, the night you first met me. The other boys, as was in my gang, was B---- B----, and B---- L----, and W---- B----, and a boy we used to call ‘Tim;’ these, with myself, used to make up one of the gangs, and we all of us used to go a thieving every night after school-hours. When the tide would be right up, and we had nothing to do along shore, we used to go thieving in the daytime as well. It was B---- B----, and B---- L----, as first put me up to go thieving; they took me with them, one night, up the lane [New Gravel-lane], and I see them take some bread out of a baker’s, and they wasn’t found out; and, after that, I used to go with them regular. Then I joined C----’s gang; and, after that, C---- came and told us that his gang could do better than ourn, and he asked us to join our gang to his’n, and we did so. Sometimes we used to make 3_s._ or 4_s._ a day; or about 6_d._ apiece. While waiting outside the school-doors, before they opened, we used to plan up where we would go thieving after school was over. I was taken up once for thieving coals myself, but I was let go again.”

I was so much struck with the boy’s truthfulness of manner, that I asked him, would, he really lead a different life, if he saw a means of so doing? He assured me he would, and begged me earnestly to try him. Upon his leaving me, 2_s._ were given him for his trouble. This small sum (I afterwards learned) kept the family for more than a fortnight. The girl laid it out in sprats (it being then winter-time); these she sold in the streets.

I mentioned the fact to a literary friend, who interested himself in the boy’s welfare; and eventually succeeded in procuring him a situation at an eminent printer’s. The subjoined letter will show how the lad conducted himself while there.

“Whitefriars, April 22, 1850.

“Messrs. Bradbury and Evans beg to say that the boy J. C. has conducted himself in a very satisfactory manner since he has been in their employment.”

The same literary friend took the girl into his service. She is in a situation still, though not in the same family.

The boy now holds a good situation at one of the daily newspaper offices. So well has he behaved himself, that, a few weeks since, his wages were increased from 6_s._ to 9_s._ per week. His mother (owing to the boy’s exertions) has now a little shop, and is doing well.

This simple story requires no comments, and is narrated here in the hope that it may teach many to know how often the poor boys reared in the gutter are thieves, merely because society forbids them being honest lads.

OF THE LONDON DUSTMEN, NIGHTMEN, SWEEPS, AND SCAVENGERS.

These men constitute a large body, and are a class who, all things considered, do their work silently and efficiently. Almost without the cognisance of the mass of the people, the refuse is removed from our streets and houses; and London, as if in the care of a tidy housewife, is always being cleaned. Great as are the faults and absurdities of many parts of our system of public cleansing, nevertheless, when compared with the state of things in any continental capital, the superiority of the metropolis of Great Britain is indisputable.

In all this matter there is little merit to be attributed to the workmen, except that they may be well drilled; for the majority of them are as much machines, apart from their animation, as are the cane and whalebone made to cleanse the chimney, or the clumsy-looking machine which, in its progress, is a vehicular scavenger, sweeping as it goes.

These public cleansers are to be thus classified:--

1. Dustmen, or those who empty and remove the collection of ashes, bones, vegetables, &c., deposited in the dust-bins, or other refuse receptacles throughout the metropolis.

2. Nightmen, or those who remove the contents of the cesspools.

3. Sweeps, or those who remove the soot from the chimneys.

4. Scavengers, or those who remove the dirt from the streets, roads, and markets.

Let me, however, before proceeding further with the subject, lay before the reader the following important return as to the extent and contents of this prodigious city: for this document I am indebted to the Commissioners of Police, gentlemen from whom I have derived the most valuable information since the commencement of my inquiries, and to whose courtesy and consideration I am anxious to acknowledge my many obligations.

RETURN SHOWING THE EXTENT, POPULATION, AND POLICE FORCE IN THE METROPOLITAN POLICE DISTRICT AND THE CITY OF LONDON IN SEPTEMBER, 1850.

-----------------------------------------+---------------------------------------+------------+------------- | Metropolitan Police District[6]. | | +------------+-----------+--------------+ City of | Grand | Inner | Outer | | London[8]. | Total. |District[7].| District. | Total. | | -----------------------------------------+------------+-----------+--------------+------------+------------- Area (in square miles) | 91 | 609-1/2| 700-1/2 | 1-3/4 | 702-1/4 Parishes | 82 | 136 | 218 | 97 | 315 Streets, Roads, &c. (length of, in miles)| 1,700 | 1,936 | 3,636 | 50 | 3,686 Number of Houses inhabited | 289,912 | 59,995 | 349,907 | 15,613 | 365,520 „ „ uninhabited | 11,868 | 1,437 | 13,305 | 387 | 13,692 „ „ being built | 4,634 | 1,097 | 5,731 | 23 | 5,754 Population | 1,986,629 |350,331 |2,336,960 |125,000 |2,461,960 Police Force | 4,844 | 660 | 5,504 | 568 | 6,072 -----------------------------------------+------------+-----------+--------------+------------+----------

18th September, 1850.

The total here given can hardly be considered as the dimensions of the metropolis; though, where the capital begins and ends, it is difficult to say. If, however, London be regarded as concentring within the Inner Police District, then, adding the extent and contents of that district to those of the City, as above detailed, we have the subjoined statement as to the dimensions and inhabitants of the

Metropolis Proper.

Area 92-3/4 square miles. Parishes 179 Length of street, roads, &c. 1750 miles. Number of inhabited houses 305,525 Ditto uninhabited 12,255 Ditto being built 4657 Population 2,111,629 Police force 5412

But if the extent of even this “inner district” be so vast as almost to overpower the mind with its magnitude--if its population be greater than that of the entire kingdom of Hanover, and almost equal to that of the republic of Switzerland--if its houses be so numerous that placed side by side they would form one continuous line of dwellings from its centre to Moscow--if its streets and roads be nearly equal in length to one quarter of the diameter of the earth itself,--what a task must the cleansing of such a bricken wilderness be, and yet, assuredly, though it be by far the greatest, it is at the same time by far the cleanest city in the world.

The removal of the refuse of a large town is, perhaps, one of the most important of social operations. Not only is it necessary for the well-being of a vast aggregation of people that the ordure should be removed from both within and around their dwellings as soon as it is generated, but nature, ever working in a circle and reproducing in the same ratio as she destroys, has made this same ordure not only the cause of present disease when allowed to remain within the city, but the means of future health and sustenance when removed to the fields.

In a leading article in the Morning Chronicle, written about two years since, I said--

“That man gets his bones from the rocks and his muscles from the atmosphere, is beyond all doubt. The iron in his blood and the lime in his teeth were originally in the soil. But these could not be in his body unless they had previously formed part of his food. And yet we can neither live on air nor on stones. We cannot grow fat upon lime, and iron is positively indigestible in our stomachs. It is by means of the vegetable creation alone that we are enabled to convert the mineral into flesh and blood. The only apparent use of herbs and plants is to change the inorganic earth, air, and water, into organic substances fitted for the nutrition of animals. The little lichen, which, by means of the oxalic acid that it secretes, decomposes the rocks to which it clings, and fits their lime for ‘assimilation’ with higher organisms, is, as it were, but the primitive bone-maker of the world. By what subtle transmutation inorganic nature is changed into organic, and dead inert matter quickened with life, is far beyond us even to conjecture. Suffice it that an express apparatus is required for the process--a special mechanism to convert the ‘crust of the earth,’ as it is called, into food for man and beast.

“Now, in Nature everything moves in a circle--perpetually changing, and yet ever returning to the point whence it started. Our bodies are continually decomposing and recomposing--indeed, the very process of breathing is but one of decomposition. As animals live on vegetables, even so is the refuse of the animal the vegetable’s food. The carbonic acid which comes from our lungs, and which is poison for us to inhale, is not only the vital air of plants, but positively their nutriment. With the same wondrous economy that marks all creation, it has been ordained that what is unfitted for the support of the superior organisms, is of all substances the best adapted to give strength and vigour to the inferior. That which we excrete as pollution to our system, they secrete as nourishment to theirs. Plants are not only Nature’s scavengers but Nature’s purifiers. They remove the filth from the earth, as well as disinfect the atmosphere, and fit it to be breathed by a higher order of beings. Without the vegetable creation the animal could neither have been nor be. Plants not only fitted the earth originally for the residence of man and the brute, but to this day they continue to render it habitable to us. For this end their nature has been made the very antithesis to ours. The process by which we live is the process by which they are destroyed. That which supports respiration in us produces putrefaction in them. What our lungs throw off, their lungs absorb--what our bodies reject, their roots imbibe.

“Hence, in order that the balance of waste and supply should be maintained--that the principle of universal compensation should be kept up, and that what is rejected by us should go to the sustenance of plants, Nature has given us several instinctive motives to remove our refuse from us. She has not only constituted that which we egest the most loathsome of all things to our senses and imagination, but she has rendered its effluvium highly pernicious to our health--sulphuretted hydrogen being at once the most deleterious and offensive of all gases. Consequently, as in all other cases where the great law of Nature has to be enforced by special sanctions, a double motive has been given us to do that which it is necessary for us to do, and thus it has been made not only advantageous to us to remove our refuse to the fields, but positively detrimental to our health, and disgusting to our senses, to keep it in the neighbourhood of our houses.

“In every well-regulated State, therefore, an effective and rapid means for carrying off the ordure of the people to a locality where it may be fruitful instead of destructive, becomes a most important consideration. Both the health and the wealth of the nation depend upon it. If to make two blades of wheat grow where one grew before is to confer a benefit on the world, surely to remove that which will enable us at once to do this, and to purify the very air which we breathe, as well as the water which we drink, must be a still greater boon to society. It is, in fact, to give the community not only a double amount of food, but a double amount of health to enjoy it. We are now beginning to understand this. Up to the present time we have only thought of removing our refuse--the idea of using it never entered our minds. It was not until science taught us the dependence of one order of creation upon another, that we began to see that what appeared worse than worthless to us was Nature’s capital--wealth set aside for future production.”

In connection with this part of the subject, viz., the use of human refuse, I would here draw attention to those erroneous notions, as to the multiplication of the people, which teach us to look upon the increase of the population beyond certain limits as the greatest possible evil that can befall a community. Population, it is said, multiplies itself in a geometrical ratio, whereas the produce of the land is increased only in arithmetical proportion; that is to say, while the people are augmented after the rate of--

2 4 8 16 32 64

the quantity of food for them can be extended only in the following degrees:--

2 4 6 8 10 12

The cause of this is said to be that, after a certain stage in the cultivation of the soil, the increase of the produce from land is not in proportion to the increase of labour devoted to it; that is to say, doubling the labour does not double the crop; and hence it is asserted that the human race increasing at a quicker rate than the food, insufficient sustenance must be the necessary lot of a portion of the people in every densely-populated community.

That men of intelligence and education should have been persuaded by so plausible a doctrine at the time of its first promulgation may be readily conceived, for then the notions concerning organic chemistry were vague in the extreme, and the great universal law of Waste and Supply remained to be fully developed; but that men pretending to the least scientific knowledge should in these days be found advocating the Population Theory is only another of the many proofs of the indisposition of even the strongest minds to abandon their pet prejudices. Assuredly Malthus and Liebig are incompatible. If the new notions as to the chemistry of vegetation be true, then must the old notions as to population be utterly unfounded. If what we excrete plants secrete--if what we exhale they inspire--if our refuse is their food--then it follows that to increase the population is to increase the quantity of manure, while to increase the manure is to augment the food of plants, and consequently the plants themselves. If the plants nourish us, we at least nourish them. It seems never to have occurred to the economists that plants themselves required sustenance, and consequently they never troubled themselves to inquire whence they derived the elements of their growth. Had they done this they would never have even expected that a double quantity of mere labour upon the soil should have doubled the produce; but they would rather have seen that it was utterly impossible for the produce to be doubled without the food in the soil being doubled likewise; that is to say, they would have perceived that plants could not, whatever the labour exerted upon their cultivation, extract the elements of their organization from the earth and air, unless those elements previously existed in the land and atmosphere in which they grew, and that such elements, moreover, could not exist there without some organic being to egest them.

This doctrine of the universal Compensation extending throughout the material world, and more especially through the animal and vegetable kingdom, is, perhaps, one of the grandest and most consoling that science has yet revealed to us, making each mutually dependent on the other, and so contributing each to the other’s support. Moreover it is the more comforting, as enabling us almost to demonstrate the falsity of a creed which is opposed to every generous impulse of our nature, and which is utterly irreconcilable with the attributes of the Creator.

“Thanks to organic chemistry,” I said two years ago in the Morning Chronicle, “we are beginning to wake up. Science has taught us that the removal of the ordure of towns to the fields is a question that concerns not only our health, but, what is a far more important consideration with us, our breeches pockets. What we, in our ignorance, had mistaken for refuse of the vilest kind, we have now learned to regard as being, with reference to its fertilizing virtues, ‘a precious ore, running in rich veins beneath the surface of our streets.’ Whereas, if allowed to reek and seethe in cesspools within scent of our very hearths, or to pollute the water that we use to quench our thirst and cook our food, it becomes, like all wealth badly applied, converted into ‘poison:’ as Romeo says of gold to the apothecary--

‘Doing more murders in this loathsome world Than those poor compounds which thou mayst not sell.’

“Formerly, in our eagerness to get rid of the pollution, we had literally not looked beyond our noses: hence our only care was to carry off the nuisance from the immediate vicinity of our own residences. It was no matter to us what became of it, so long as it did not taint the atmosphere around us. This the very instincts of our nature had made objectionable to us; so we laid down just as many drains and sewers as would carry our night-soil to the nearest stream; and thus, instead of poisoning the air that we breathed, we poisoned the water that we drank. Then, as the town extended--for cities, like mosaic work, are put together piecemeal--street being dovetailed to street, like county to county in our children’s geographical puzzles--each new row of houses tailed on its drains to those of its neighbours, without any inquiry being made as to whether they were on the same level or not. The consequence of this is, that the sewers in many parts of our metropolis are subject to an ebb and flood like their central stream, so that the pollution which they remove at low-water, they regularly bring back at high-water to the very doors of the houses whence they carried it.

“According to the average of the returns, from 1841 to 1846, we are paying two millions every year for guano, bone-dust, and other foreign fertilizers of our soil. In 1845, we employed no fewer than 683 ships to bring home 220,000 tons of animal manure from Ichaboe alone; and yet we are every day emptying into the Thames 115,000 tons of a substance which has been proved to be possessed of even greater fertilizing powers. With 200 tons of the sewage that we are wont to regard as refuse, applied to the irrigation of one acre of meadow land, seven crops, we are told, have been produced in the year, each of them worth from 6_l._ to 7_l._; so that, considering the produce to have been doubled by these means, we have an increase of upwards of 20_l._ per acre per annum effected by the application of that refuse to the surface of our fields. This return is at the rate of 10_l._ for every 100 tons of sewage; and, since the total amount of refuse discharged into the Thames from the sewers of the metropolis is, in round numbers, 40,000,000 tons per annum, it follows that, according to such estimate, we are positively wasting 4,000,000_l._ of money every year; or, rather, it costs us that amount to poison the waters about us. Or, granting that the fertilizing power of the metropolitan refuse is--as it is said to be--as great for arable as for pasture-lands, then for every 200 tons of manure that we now cast away, we might have an increase of at least 20 bushels of corn per acre. Consequently the entire 40,000,000 tons of sewage, if applied to fatten the land instead of to poison the water, would, at such a rate of increase, swell our produce to the extent of 4,000,000 bushels of wheat per annum. Calculating then that each of these bushels would yield 16 quartern loaves, it would follow that we fling into the Thames no less than 246,000,000 lbs. of bread every year; or, still worse, by pouring into the river that which, if spread upon our fields, would enable thousands to live, we convert the elements of life and health into the germs of disease and death, changing into slow but certain poisons that which, in the subtle transmutation of organic nature, would become acres of life-sustaining grain.” I shall have more to say subsequently on this waste and its consequences.

These considerations show how vastly important it is that in the best of all possible ways we should collect, remove, and use the scavengery and excrementitious matter of our streets and houses.

Now the removal of the refuse of London is no slight task, consisting, as it does, of the cleansing of 1750 miles of streets and roads; of collecting the dust from 300,000 dust-bins; of emptying (according to the returns of the Board of Health) the same number of cesspools, and sweeping near upon 3,000,000 chimneys.

A task so vast it might naturally be imagined would give employment to a number of hands, and yet, if we trusted the returns of the Occupation Abstract of 1841, the whole of these stupendous operations are performed by a limited number of individuals.

RETURN OF THE NUMBER OF SWEEPS, DUSTMEN, AND NIGHTMEN IN THE METROPOLIS, ACCORDING TO THE CENSUS OF 1841.

------------------------+------+----------------------+---------------------- | | Males. | Females. | +------------+---------+------------+--------- |Total.|20 years and| |20 years and| | | upwards. |Under 20.| upwards. |Under 20. ------------------------+------+------------+---------+------------+--------- Chimney Sweepers | 1033 | 619 | 370 | 44 | Scavengers and Nightmen | 254 | 227 | 10 | 17 | ------------------------+------+------------+---------+------------+---------

I am informed by persons in the trade that the “females” here mentioned as chimney-sweepers, and scavengers, and nightmen, must be such widows or daughters of sweeps and nightmen as have succeeded to their businesses, for that no women work at such trades; excepting, perhaps, in the management and care of the soot, in assisting to empty and fill the bags. Many females, however, are employed in sifting dust, but the calling of the dustman and dustwoman is not so much as noticed in the population returns.

According to the occupation abstract of the previous decennial period, the number of males of 20 years and upwards (for none others were mentioned) pursuing the same callings in the metropolis in 1831, were as follows:--

Soot and chimney-sweepers 421 Nightmen and scavengers 130

Hence the increase in the adult male operatives belonging to these trades, between 1831 and 1841, was, for Chimney-sweeps, 198; and Scavengers and Nightmen, 97.

But these returns are preposterously incorrect. In the first place it was not until 1842 that the parliamentary enactment prohibiting the further employment of climbing-boys for the purpose of sweeping chimneys came into operation. At that time the number of inhabited houses in the metropolis was in round numbers 250,000, and calculating these to have contained only eight rooms each, there would have been at the least 2,000,000 chimneys to sweep. Now, according to the government returns above cited--the London climbing-boys (for the masters did not and could not climb) in 1841 numbered only 370; at which rate there would have been but one boy to no less than 5400 chimneys! Pursuing the same mode of testing the validity of the “official” statements, we find, as the nightmen generally work in gangs of four, that each of the 63, or say 64, gangs comprised in the census returns, would have had 4000 cesspools to empty of their contents; while, working both as scavengers and nightmen (for, according to the census, they were the only individuals following those occupations in London), they would after their nocturnal labours have had about 27 miles of streets and roads to cleanse--a feat which would certainly have thrown the scavengering prowess of Hercules into the shade.

Under the respective heads of the dustmen, nightmen, sweeps, and scavengers, I shall give an account of the numbers, &c., employed, and a resumé of the whole. It will be sufficient here to mention that my investigations lead to the conclusion that, of men working as dustmen (a portion of whom are employed as nightmen and scavengers) there are at present about 1800 in the metropolis. The census of 1841, as I have pointed out, mentions no dustman whatever!

But I have so often had instances of the defects of this national numbering of the people that I have long since ceased to place much faith in its returns connected with the humbler grades of labour. The costermongers, for example, I estimate at about 10,000, whereas the government reports, as has been before mentioned, ignore the very existence of such a class of people, and make the entire hawkers, hucksters, and pedlars of the metropolis to amount to no more than 2045. Again, the London “coal labourers, heavers, and porters” are said, in the census of 1841, to be only 1700 in number; I find, however, that there are no less than 1800 “registered” coal-whippers, and as many coal porters; so that I am in no way inclined to give great credence to the “official enumerations.” The difficulties which beset the perfection of such a document are almost insuperable, and I have already heard of returns for the forthcoming document, made by ignorant people as to their occupations, which already go far to nullify the facts in connection with the employment of the ignorant and profligate classes of the metropolis.

Before quitting this part of the subject, viz., the extent of surface, the length of streets, and the number of houses throughout the metropolis requiring to be continually cleansed of their refuse, as well as the number of people as continually engaged in so cleansing them, let me here append the last returns of the Registrar General, copied from the census of 1851, as to the dimensions and contents of the metropolis according to that functionary, so that they may be compared with those of the metropolitan police before given.

In Weale’s “London Exhibited,” which is by far the most comprehensive description of the metropolis that I have seen, it is stated that it is “only possible to adopt a general idea of the giant city,” as its precise boundaries and extent cannot be defined. On the north of the Thames, we are told, London extends to Edmonton and Finchley; on the west it stretches to Acton and Hammersmith; on the east it reaches Leyton and Ham; while on the south of the Thames the metropolis is said to embrace Wandsworth, Streatham, Lewisham, Woolwich, and Plumstead. “To each of these points,” says Mr. Weale, but upon what authority he does not inform us, “continuous streets of houses reach; but the solid mass of houses lies within narrow bounds--with these several long arms extending from it. The greatest length of street, from east to west,” he adds, “is about fourteen miles, and from north to south about thirteen miles. The solid mass is about seven miles by four miles, so that the ground covered with houses is not less than 20 square miles.”

Mr. McCulloch, in his “London in 1850-51,” has a passage to the same effect. He says, “The continued and rapid increase of buildings renders it difficult to ascertain the extent of the metropolis at any particular period. If we include in it those parts only that present a solid mass of houses, its length from east to west may be taken at six miles, and its breadth from north to south at about three miles and a half. There is, however, a nearly continuous line of houses from Blackwall to Chelsea, a distance of about seven miles, and from Walworth to Holloway, of four and a half miles. The extent of surface covered by buildings is estimated at about sixteen square miles, or above 10,000 acres, so that M. Say, the celebrated French economist, did not really indulge in hyperbole when he said, ‘Londres n’est plus une ville: c’est une province couverte de maisons!’ (London is no longer a town: it is a province covered with houses).”

The Government authorities, however, appear to have very different notions from either of the above gentlemen as to the extent of the metropolis.

The limits of London, as at present laid down by the Registrar General, include 176 parishes, besides several precincts, liberties, and extra-parochial places, comprising altogether about 115 square miles. According to the old bills of mortality, London formerly included only 148 parishes, which were located as follows:--

Parishes within the walls of the city 97 Parishes without the walls 17 Parishes in the city and liberties of Westminster 10 Out parishes in Middlesex and Surrey 24 --- 148

The parishes which have been annexed to the above at different periods since the commencement of the present century are:--

Parishes added by the late Mr. Rickman (see Pop. Abstracts, 1801-31) (including Chelsea, Kensington, Paddington, St. Marylebone, and St. Pancras) 5

Parishes added by the Registrar General, 1838 (including Hammersmith, Fulham, Stoke Newington, Stratford-le-Bow, Bromley, Camberwell, Deptford, Greenwich, and Woolwich) 10

Parishes added by the Registrar General in 1844 (including Clapham, Battersea, Wandsworth, Putney, Lower Tooting, and Streatham) 6

Parishes added by the Registrar General in 1846 (comprising Hampstead, Charlton, Plumstead, Eltham, Lee, Kidbroke, and Lewisham) 7 --- Total number of parishes in the metropolis, as defined by the Registrar General 176

The extent of London, according to the limits assigned to it at the several periods above mentioned, was--

Stat. Acres. Sq. miles. London within the old bills of mortality, from 1726 21,080 32

London, within the limits adopted by the late Mr. Rickman, 1801-31 29,850 46

London, within the limits adopted by the Registrar General, 1838-43 44,850 70

London, within the limits adopted by the Registrar General, 1844-46 55,650 87

London, within the limits adopted by the Registrar General in 1847-51 74,070 115

“London,” observes Mr. Weale, “has now swallowed up many cities, towns, villages, and separate jurisdictions. The four commonwealths, or kingdoms, of the Middle Saxons, East Saxons, the South Rick, and the Kentwaras, once ruled over its surface. It now embraces the episcopal cities of London and Westminster, the towns of Woolwich, Deptford, and Wandsworth, the watering places of Hampstead, Highgate, Islington, Acton, and Kilburn, the fishing town of Barking, the once secluded and ancient villages of Ham, Hornsey, Sydenham, Lee, Kensington, Fulham, Lambeth, Clapham, Paddington, Hackney, Chelsea, Stoke Newington, Newington Butts, Plumstead, and many others.”

The 176 parishes now included by the Registrar General within the boundaries of the metropolis, are arranged by him into five districts, of which the areas, population, and number of inhabited houses were on the 31st of March, 1851, as undermentioned:--

TABLE SHOWING THE AREA, NUMBER OF INHABITED HOUSES, AND POPULATION OF THE DIFFERENT PARTS OF THE METROPOLIS, 1841-51.

------------------------------+--------+-----------------------+------------------- | | Population. | Inhabited Houses. DIVISIONS OF METROPOLIS. |Statute +-----------+-----------+---------+--------- | Acres. | 1841. | 1851. | 1841. | 1851. ------------------------------+--------+-----------+-----------+---------+--------- WEST DISTRICTS. | | | | | Kensington | 7,860 | 74,898 | 119,990 | 10,962 | 17,292 Chelsea | 780 | 40,243 | 56,543 | 5,648 | 7,629 St. George’s, Hanover-square | 1,090 | 66,657 | 73,207 | 7,630 | 8,795 Westminster | 840 | 56,802 | 65,609 | 6,439 | 6,647 St. Martin’s-in-the-Fields | 260 | 25,132 | 24,557 | 2,439 | 2,323 St. James’s, Westminster | 165 | 37,457 | 36,426 | 3,590 | 3,460 | | | | | NORTH DISTRICTS. | | | | | Marylebone | 1,490 | 138,383 | 157,679 | 14,169 | 15,955 Hampstead (added 1846) | 2,070 | 10,109 | 11,986 | 1,411 | 1,719 Pancras | 2,600 | 129,969 | 167,198 | 14,766 | 18,731 Islington | 3,050 | 55,779 | 95,154 | 8,508 | 13,558 Hackney | 3,950 | 42,328 | 58,424 | 7,192 | 9,861 | | | | | CENTRAL DISTRICTS. | | | | | St Giles’s | 250 | 54,378 | 54,062 | 4,959 | 4,778 Strand | 163 | 43,667 | 44,446 | 4,327 | 3,938 Holborn | 188 | 44,532 | 46,571 | 4,603 | 4,517 Clerkenwell | 320 | 56,799 | 64,705 | 6,946 | 7,259 St. Luke’s | 240 | 49,908 | 54,058 | 6,385 | 6,421 East London |}[9]230 | 39,718 | 44,407 | 4,796 | 4,785 West London |} | 29,188 | 28,829 | 3,010 | 2,745 London, City of |[10]370 | 56,009 | 55,908 | 7,921 | 7,329 | | | | | EAST DISTRICTS. | | | | | Shoreditch | 620 | 83,564 | 109,209 | 12,642 | 15,433 Bethnal Green | 760 | 74,206 | 90,170 | 11,782 | 13,370 Whitechapel | 316 | 71,879 | 79,756 | 8,834 | 8,832 St George’s in the East | 230 | 41,416 | 48,375 | 5,985 | 6,151 Stepney | 2,518 | 90,831 | 110,669 | 14,364 | 16,346 Poplar | 1,250 | 31,171 | 47,157 | 5,066 | 6,882 | | | | | SOUTH DISTRICTS. | | | | | St. Saviour’s, Southwark | [11]| 33,027 | 35,729 | 4,659 | 4,613 St. Olave’s, Southwark | [11]| 19,869 | 19,367 | 2,523 | 2,365 Bermondsey | 620 | 35,002 | 48,128 | 5,674 | 7,095 St. George’s, Southwark |[11]590 | 46,718 | 51,825 | 6,663 | 7,005 Newington | 630 | 54,693 | 64,805 | 9,370 | 10,468 Lambeth | 3,640 | 116,072 | 139,240 | 17,791 | 20,520 Wandsworth (added 1843) | 10,800 | 39,918 | 50,770 | 6,459 | 8,290 Camberwell | 4,570 | 39,931 | 54,668 | 6,843 | 9,417 Rotherhithe | 690 | 13,940 | 17,778 | 2,420 | 2,834 Greenwich | 4,570 | 81,125 | 99,404 | 11,995 | 14,423 Lewisham (added 1846) | 16,350 | 23,051 | 34,831 | 3,966 | 5,936 ------------------------------+--------+-----------+-----------+---------+--------- Total London Division | 74,070 | 1,948,369 | 2,361,640 | 262,737 | 307,722 ------------------------------+--------+-----------+-----------+---------+---------

In order to be able to compare the average density of the population in the various parts of London, I have made a calculation as to the number of persons and houses to the acre, as well as the number of inhabitants to each house. I have also computed the annual rate of increase of the population from 1841-51, in the several localities here mentioned, and append the result. It will be seen that, while what are popularly known as the suburbs have increased, both in houses and population, at a considerable rate, some of the more central parts of London, on the contrary, have decreased not only in the number of people, but in the number of dwellings as well. This has been the case in St. Martin’s-in-the-Fields, St. James’s, Westminster, St. Giles’s, and the City of London.

TABLE SHOWING THE INCREASE OF THE POPULATION AND INHABITED HOUSES, AS WELL AS THE NUMBER OF PEOPLE AND HOUSES TO EACH ACRE, AND THE NUMBER OF PERSONS TO EACH HOUSE IN THE DIFFERENT PARTS OF THE METROPOLIS IN 1841-51.

--------------------------------+----------------+---------------+---------+---------+--------- |Yearly Increase |Yearly Increase|Number of|Number of|Number of | of Population | of Inhabited |People to|Inhabited| Persons |per annum, from | Houses, from |the Acre,|Houses to| to each | 1841-51. | 1841-51. | 1851. |the Acre,| House, | | | | 1851. | 1851. --------------------------------+----------------+---------------+---------+---------+--------- WEST DISTRICTS. | | | | | Kensington | 4,509·2 | 633·0 | 15·2 | 2·2 | 6·9 Chelsea | 1,630·0 | 198·1 | 72·4 | 9·7 | 7·4 St. George’s, | | | | | Hanover-square | 655·0 | 11·6 | 67·1 | 8·0 | 8·3 Westminster | 880·7 | 20·8 | 80·4 | 8·2 | 9·8 St. Martin’s-in-the-Fields |decr. 57·5[12]|_decr._11·6[12]| 94·3 | 8·9 | 10·5 St. James’s, Westminster | 103·1[12]| 13·0[12]| 220·7 | 20·9 | 10·5 NORTH DISTRICTS. | | | | | Marylebone | 1,926·6 | 178·6 | 105·8 | 10·3 | 9·8 Hampstead | 187·7 | 30·8 | 5·7 | ·8 | 6·9 St. Pancras | 3,722·9 | 396·5 | 64·3 | 7·2 | 8·9 Islington | 3,937·5 | 505·0 | 31·5 | 4·4 | 7·0 Hackney | 1,609·6 | 719·2 | 14·7 | 2·3 | 5·9 CENTRAL DISTRICTS. | | | | | St. Giles’s | _decr._31·6[12]|_decr._18·1[12]| 216·2 | 19·1 | 11·3 Strand | 77·9 |_decr._38·9[12]| 272·2 | 24·1 | 11·2 Holborn | 203·9 |decr. 8·6[12]| 247·7 | 24·0 | 10·3 Clerkenwell | 790·6 | 31·3 | 202·2 | 22·6 | 8·9 St. Luke’s | 415·0 | 3·6 | 225·2 | 26·7 | 8·4 East and West London | 433·0 |_decr._27·6[12]| 318·4 | 32·7 | 9·7 London City |decr. 10·1[12]|_decr._59·2[12]| 151·0 | 19·8 | 7·6 EAST DISTRICTS. | | | | | Shoreditch | 2,564·5 | 279·1 | 176·1 | 24·8 | 7·0 Bethnal-green | 1,596·4 | 158·8 | 118·6 | 17·5 | 6·7 Whitechapel | 787·7 |decr. ·2[12]| 252·3 | 27·9 | 9·0 St. George’s-in-the-East | 695·9 | 16·6 | 210·3 | 26·7 | 7·8 Stepney | 1,983·8 | 198·2 | 43·9 | 6·4 | 6·7 Poplar | 1,598·6 | 181·6 | 37·7 | 5·5 | 6·8 SOUTH DISTRICTS. | | | | | St. Saviour’s, St. Olave’s, and | | | | | St. George’s, Southwark | 730·7 | 13·8 | 181·2 | 23·7 | 7·6 Bermondsey | 1,312·6 | 142·1 | 77·6 | 11·2 | 6·7 Newington | 1,011·2 | 109·8 | 102·8 | 16·6 | 6·1 Lambeth | 2,316·8 | 272·9 | 38·2 | 5·6 | 6·7 Wandsworth | 1,085·2 | 183·1 | 4·7 | ·7 | 6·1 Camberwell | 1,473·7 | 257·4 | 12·4 | 2·0 | 5·8 Rotherhithe | 383·8 | 41·4 | 25·7 | 4·1 | 6·2 Greenwich | 1,827·9 | 242·8 | 21·7 | 3·1 | 6·8 Lewisham | 1,178·0 | 197·0 | 2·1 | ·3 | 5·6 --------------------------------+----------------+---------------+---------+---------+--------- Total for all London | 41,327·1 | 4,498·5 | 31·8 | 4·1 | 7·6 --------------------------------+----------------+---------------+---------+---------+---------

By the above table we perceive that St. Martin’s-in-the-Fields, St. James’s, Westminster, St. Giles’s, the Strand, and the City have all decreased both in population and houses since 1841. The population has diminished most of all in St. James’s, and the houses the most in the City. The suburban districts, however, such as Chelsea, Marylebone, St. Pancras, Islington, Hackney, Shoreditch, Bethnal-green, Stepney, Poplar, Bermondsey, Newington, Lambeth, Wandsworth, Camberwell, Greenwich, and Lewisham, have all increased greatly within the last ten years, both in dwellings and people. The greatest increase of the population, as well as houses, has been in Kensington, where the yearly addition has been 4500 people, and 630 houses.

The more densely-populated districts are, St. James’s, Westminster, St. Giles’s, the Strand, Holborn, Clerkenwell, St. Luke, Whitechapel, and St. George’s-in-the-East, in all of which places there are upwards of 200 people to the acre, while in East and West London, in which the population is the most dense of all, the number of people exceeds 300 to the acre. The least densely populated districts are Hampstead, Wandsworth, and Lewisham, where the people are not more than six, and as few as two to the acre.

The districts in which there are the greatest number of houses to a given space, are St. James’s, Westminster, the Strand, Holborn, Clerkenwell, St. Luke’s, Shoreditch, and St. George’s-in-the-East, in all of which localities there are upwards of 20 dwellings to each acre of ground, while in East and West London, which is the most closely built over of all, the number of houses to each acre are as many as 32. Hampstead and Lewisham appear to be the most open districts; for there the houses are not more than eight and three to every ten acres of ground.

The localities in which the houses are the most crowded with inmates are the Strand and St. Giles’s, where there are more than eleven people to each house, and St. Martin’s-in-the-Fields, and St. James’s, Westminster, and Holborn, where each house has on an average ten inmates, while in Lewisham and Wandsworth the houses are the least crowded, for there we find only five people to every house.

Now, comparing this return with that of the metropolitan police, we have the following results as to the extent and contents of the Metropolis Proper:--

According to According Registrar to Metropolitan General. Police. Area (in statute acres) 74,070 58,880 Parishes 176 179 Number of inhabited houses 307,722 305,525 Population 2,361,640 2,111,629

Hence it will be seen that both the extent and contents of these two returns differ most materially.

1st. The superficies of the Registrar General’s metropolis is very nearly 13 square miles, or 15,190 statute acres, greater than the metropolis of the police commissioners.

2nd. The number of inhabited houses is 2197 more in the one than in the other.

3rd. The population of London, according to the Registrar General’s limits, is 250,011, or a quarter of a million, more than it is according to the limits of the metropolitan police.

It were much to be desired that some more definite and scientific mode, not only of limiting, but of dividing the metropolis, were to be adopted. At present there are, perhaps, as many different metropolises, so to speak, and as many different modes of apportioning the several parts of the whole into districts, as there are public bodies whose operations are specially confined to the capital. The Registrar General has, as we have seen, one metropolis divided into western, northern, central, eastern, and southern districts. The metropolitan police commissioners have another metropolis apportioned into its A divisions, B divisions, and so forth; and the Post Office has a third metropolis parcelled out in a totally different manner; while the London City Mission, the Scripture Readers, the Ragged Schools, and the many other similar metropolitan institutions, all seem to delight in creating a distinct metropolis for themselves, thus tending to make the statistical “confusion worse confounded.”

OF THE DUSTMEN OF LONDON.

Dust and rubbish accumulate in houses from a variety of causes, but principally from the residuum of fires, the white ash and cinders, or small fragments of unconsumed coke, giving rise to by far the greater quantity. Some notion of the vast amount of this refuse annually produced in London may be formed from the fact that the consumption of coal in the metropolis is, according to the official returns, 3,500,000 tons per annum, which is at the rate of a little more than 11 tons per house; the poorer families, it is true, do not burn more than 2 tons in the course of the year, but then many such families reside in the same house, and hence the average will appear in no way excessive. Now the ashes and cinders arising from this enormous consumption of coal would, it is evident, if allowed to lie scattered about in such a place as London, render, ere long, not only the back streets, but even the important thoroughfares, filthy and impassable. Upon the Officers of the various parishes, therefore, has devolved the duty of seeing that the refuse of the fuel consumed throughout London is removed almost as fast as produced; this they do by entering into an agreement for the clearance of the “dust-bins” of the parishioners as often as required, with some person who possesses all necessary appliances for the purpose--such as horses, carts, baskets, and shovels, together with a plot of waste ground whereon to deposit the refuse. The persons with whom this agreement is made are called “dust-contractors,” and are generally men of considerable wealth.

The collection of “dust,” is now, more properly speaking, the removal of it. The collection of an article implies the voluntary seeking after it, and this the dustmen can hardly be said to do; for though they parade the streets shouting for the dust as they go, they do so rather to fulfil a certain duty they have undertaken to perform than in any expectation of profit to be derived from the sale of the article.

Formerly the custom was otherwise; but then, as will be seen hereafter, the residuum of the London fuel was far more valuable. Not many years ago it was the practice for the various master dustmen to send in their tenders to the vestry, on a certain day appointed for the purpose, offering to pay a considerable sum yearly to the parish authorities for liberty to collect the dust from the several houses. The sum formerly paid to the parish of Shadwell, for instance, though not a very extensive one, amounted to between 400_l._ or 500_l._ per annum; but then there was an immense demand for the article, and the contractors were unable to furnish a sufficient supply from London; ships were frequently freighted with it from other parts, especially from Newcastle and the northern ports, and at that time it formed an article of considerable international commerce--the price being from 15_s._ to 1_l._ per chaldron. Of late years, however, the demand has fallen off greatly, while the supply has been progressively increasing, owing to the extension of the metropolis, so that the Contractors have not only declined paying anything for liberty to collect it, but now stipulate to receive a certain sum for the removal of it. It need hardly be stated that the parishes always employ the man who requires the least money for the performance of what has now become a matter of duty rather than an object of desire. Some idea may be formed of the change which has taken place in this business, from the fact, that the aforesaid parish of Shadwell, which formerly received the sum of 450_l._ per annum for liberty to collect the dust, now pays the Contractor the sum of 240_l._ per annum for its removal.

The Court of Sewers of the City of London, in 1846, through the advice of Mr. Cochrane, the president of the National Philanthropic Association, were able to obtain from the contractors the sum of 5000_l._ for liberty to clear away the dirt from the streets and the dust from the bins and houses in that district. The year following, however, the contractors entered into a combination, and came to a resolution not to bid so high for the privilege; the result was, that they obtained their contracts at an expense of 2200_l._ By acting on the same principle in the year after, they not only offered no premium whatever for the contract, but the City Commissioners of Sewers were obliged to pay them the sum of 300_l._ for removing the refuse, and at present the amount paid by the City is as much as 4900_l._! This is divided among four great contractors, and would, if equally apportioned, give them 1250_l._ each.

I subjoin a list of the names of the principal contractors and the parishes for which they are engaged:--

DISTRICTS CONTRACTED NAMES OF FOR. CONTRACTORS.

{ Redding. Four divisions of the City. { Rook. { J. Sinnott. { J. Gould. Finsbury-square J. Gould. St. Luke’s H. Dodd. Shoreditch Ditto. Norton Folgate J. Gould. Bethnal-green E. Newman. Holborn Pratt and Sewell. Hatton-garden Ditto. Islington Stroud, Brickmaker. St. Martin’s Wm. Sinnott, Junior. St. Mary-le-Strand J. Gore. St. Sepulchre Ditto. Savoy Ditto. St. Clement Danes Rook. St. James’s, Clerkenwell H. Dodd. St. John’s, ditto J. Gould. St. Margaret’s, Westminster W. Hearne. St. John’s, ditto Stapleton and Holdsworth. Lambeth W. Hearne. Chelsea C. Humphries. St. Marylebone J. Gore. Blackfriars-bridge Jenkins. St. Paul’s, Covent-garden W. Sinnott. Piccadilly H. Tame. Regent-street and Pall-mall W. Ridding. St. George’s, Hanover-sq. H. Tame. Paddington C. Humphries. Camden-town Milton. St. Pancras, S.W. Division W. Stapleton. Southampton estate C. Starkey. Skinner’s ditto H. North. Brewer’s ditto C. Starkey. Cromer ditto Ditto. Calthorpe ditto Ditto. Bedford ditto Gore. Doughty ditto Martin. Union ditto J. Gore. Foundling ditto Pratt and Sewell. Harrison ditto Martin. St. Ann’s, Soho J. Gore. Whitechapel Parsons. Goswell-street Redding. Commercial-road, East J. Sinnott. Mile-end Newman. Borough Hearne. Bermondsey The parish. Kensington H. Tame. St. Giles’s-in-the-Fields and St. George’s, Bloomsbury Redding. Shadwell Westley. St. George’s-in-the-East Ditto. Battle-bridge Starkey. Berkeley-square Clutterbuck. St. George’s, Pimlico Redding. Woods and Forests Ditto. St. Botolph Westley. St. John’s, Wapping Ditto. Somers-town H. North. Kentish-town J. Gore. Rolls (Liberty of the) Pratt and Sewell. Edward-square, Kensington C. Humphries.

All the metropolitan parishes now pay the contractors various amounts for the removal of the dust, and I am credibly informed that there is a system of underletting and jobbing in the dust contracts extensively carried on. The contractor for a certain parish is often a different person from the master doing the work, who is unknown in the contract. Occasionally the work would appear to be subdivided and underlet a second time.

The parish of St. Pancras is split into no less than 21 districts, each district having a separate and independent “Board,” who are generally at war with each other, and make separate contracts for their several divisions. This is also the case in other large parishes, and these and other considerations confirm me in the conclusion that of large and small dust-contractors, job-masters, and middle-men, of one kind or the other, throughout the metropolis, there cannot be less than the number I have stated--90. With the exception of Bermondsey, there are no parishes who remove their own dust.

It is difficult to arrive at any absolute statement as to the gross amount paid by the different parishes for the removal of the entire dust of the metropolis. From Shadwell the contractor, as we have seen, receives 250_l._; from the city the four contractors receive as much as 5000_l._; but there are many small parishes in London which do not pay above a tithe of the last-mentioned sum. Let us, therefore, assume, that one with another, the several metropolitan parishes pay 200_l._ a year each to the dust contractor. According to the returns before given, there are 176 parishes in London. Hence, the gross amount paid for the removal of the entire dust of the metropolis will be between 30,000_l._ and 40,000_l._ per annum.

The removal of the dust throughout the metropolis, is, therefore, carried on by a number of persons called Contractors, who undertake, as has been stated, for a certain sum, to cart away the refuse from the houses as frequently as the inhabitants desire it. To ascertain the precise numbers of these contractors is a task of much greater difficulty than might at first be conceived.

The London Post Office Directory gives the following number of tradesmen connected with the removal of refuse from the houses and streets of the metropolis.

Dustmen 9 Scavengers 10 Nightmen 14 Sweeps 32

But these numbers are obviously incomplete, for even a cursory passenger through London must have noticed a greater number of names upon the various dust carts to be met with in the streets than are here set down.

A dust-contractor, who has been in the business upwards of 20 years, stated that, from his knowledge of the trade, he should suppose that at present there might be about 80 or 90 contractors in the metropolis. Now, according to the returns before given, there are within the limits of the Metropolitan Police District 176 parishes, and comparing this with my informant’s statement, that many persons contract for more than one parish (of which, indeed, he himself is an instance), there remains but little reason to doubt the correctness of his supposition--that there are, in all, between 80 or 90 dust-contractors, large and small, connected with the metropolis. Assuming the aggregate number to be 88, there would be one contractor to every two parishes.

These dust-contractors are likewise the contractors for the cleansing of the streets, except where that duty is performed by the Street-Orderlies; they are also the persons who undertake the emptying of the cesspools in their neighbourhood; the latter operation, however, is effected by an arrangement between themselves and the landlords of the premises, and forms no part of their parochial contracts. At the office of the Street Orderlies in Leicester Square, they have knowledge of only 30 contractors connected with the metropolis; but this is evidently defective, and refers to the “large masters” alone; leaving out of all consideration, as it does, the host of small contractors scattered up and down the metropolis, who are able to employ only two or three carts and six or seven men each; many of such small contractors being merely master sweeps who have managed to “get on a little in the world,” and who are now able to contract, “in a small way,” for the removal of dust, street-sweepings, and night-soil. Moreover, many of even the “great contractors” being unwilling to venture upon an outlay of capital for carts, horses, &c., when their contract is only for a year, and may pass at the end of that time into the hands of any one who may underbid them--many such, I repeat, are in the habit of underletting a portion of their contract to others possessing the necessary appliances, or of entering into partnership with them. The latter is the case in the parish of Shadwell, where a person having carts and horses shares the profits with the original contractor. The agreement made on such occasions is, of course, a secret, though the practice is by no means uncommon; indeed, there is so much secrecy maintained concerning all matters connected with this business, that the inquiry is beset with every possible difficulty. The gentleman who communicated to me the amount paid by the parish of Shadwell, and who informed me, moreover, that parishes in his neighbourhood paid twice and three times more than Shadwell did, hinted to me the difficulties I should experience at the commencement of my inquiry, and I have certainly found his opinion correct to the letter. I have ascertained that in one yard intimidation was resorted to, and the men were threatened with instant dismissal if they gave me any information but such as was calculated to mislead.

I soon discovered, indeed, that it was impossible to place any reliance on what some of the contractors said; and here I may repeat that the indisputable result of my inquiries has been to meet with far more deception and equivocation from employers generally than from the employed; working men have little or no motive for mis-stating their wages; they know well that the ordinary rates of remuneration for their labour are easily ascertainable from other members of the trade, and seldom or never object to produce accounts of their earnings, whenever they have been in the habit of keeping such things. With employers, however, the case is far different; to seek to ascertain from them the profits of their trade is to meet with evasion and prevarication at every turn; they seem to feel that their gains are dishonestly large, and hence resort to every means to prevent them being made public. That I have met with many honourable exceptions to this rule, I most cheerfully acknowledge; but that the majority of tradesmen are neither so frank, communicative, nor truthful, as the men in their employ, the whole of my investigations go to prove. I have already, in the Morning Chronicle, recorded the character of my interviews with an eminent Jew slop-tailor, an army clothier, and an enterprising free-trade stay-maker (a gentleman who subscribed his 100 guineas to the League), and I must in candour confess that now, after two years’ experience, I have found the industrious poor a thousand-fold more veracious than the trading rich.

With respect to the amount of business done by these contractors, or gross quantity of dust collected by them in the course of the year, it would appear that each employs, on an average, about 20 men, which makes the number of men employed as dustmen through the streets of London amount to 1800. This, as has been previously stated, is grossly at variance with the number given in the Census of 1841, which computes the dustmen in the metropolis at only 254. But, as I said before, I have long ceased to place confidence in the government returns on such subjects. According to the above estimate of 254, and deducting from this number the 88 master-dustmen, there would be only 166 labouring men to empty the 300,000 dustbins of London, and as these men always work in couples, it follows that every two dustmen would have to remove the refuse from about 3600 houses; so that assuming each bin to require emptying once every six weeks they would have to cart away the dust from 2400 houses every month, or 600 every week, which is at the rate of 100 a day! and as each dust-bin contains about half a load, it would follow that at this rate each cart would have to collect 50 loads of dust daily, whereas 5 loads is the average day’s work.

Computing the London dust-contractors at 90, and the inhabited houses at 300,000, it follows that each contractor would have 3333 houses to remove the refuse from. Now it has been calculated that the ashes and cinders alone from each house average about three loads per annum, so that each contractor would have, in round numbers, 10,000 loads of dust to remove in the course of the year. I find, from inquiries, that every two dustmen carry to the yard about five loads a day, or about 1500 loads in the course of the year, so that at this rate, there must be between six and seven carts, and twelve and fourteen collectors employed by each master. But this is exclusive of the men employed in the yards. In one yard that I visited there were fourteen people busily employed. Six of these were women, who were occupied in sifting, and they were attended by three men who shovelled the dust into their sieves, and the foreman, who was hard at work loosening and dragging down the dust from the heap, ready for the “fillers-in.” Besides these there were two carts and four men engaged in conveying the sifted dust to the barges alongside the wharf. At a larger dust-yard, that formerly stood on the banks of the Regent’s-canal, I am informed that there were sometimes as many as 127 people at work. It is but a small yard, which has not 30 to 40 labourers connected with it; and the lesser dust-yards have generally from four to eight sifters, and six or seven carts. There are, therefore, employed in a medium-sized yard twelve collectors or cartmen, six sifters, and three fillers-in, besides the foreman or forewoman, making altogether 22 persons; so that, computing the contractors at 90, and allowing 20 men to be employed by each, there would be 1800 men thus occupied in the metropolis, which appears to be very near the truth.

One who has been all his life connected with the business estimated that there must be about ten dustmen to each metropolitan parish, large and small. In Marylebone he believed there were eighteen dust-carts, with two men to each, out every day; in some small parishes, however, two men are sufficient. There would be more men employed, he said, but some masters contracted for two or three parishes, and so “kept the same men going,” working them hard, and enlarging their regular rounds. Calculating, then, that ten men are employed to each of the 176 metropolitan parishes, we have 1760 dustmen in London. The suburban parishes, my informant told me, were as well “dustmaned” as any he knew; for the residents in such parts were more particular about their dust than in busier places.

It is curious to observe how closely the number of men engaged in the collection of the “dust” from the coals burnt in London agrees, according to the above estimate, with the number of men engaged in delivering the coals to be burnt. The coal-whippers, who “discharge the colliers,” are about 1800, and the coal-porters, who carry the coals from the barges to the merchants’ wagons, are about the same in number. The amount of residuum from coal after burning cannot, of course, be equal either in bulk or weight to the original substance; but considering that the collection of the dust is a much slower operation than the delivery of the coals, the difference is easily accounted for.

We may arrive, approximately, at the quantity of dust annually produced in London, in the following manner:--

The consumption of coal in London, per annum, is about 3,500,000 tons, exclusive of what is brought to the metropolis per rail. Coals are made up of the following component parts, viz. (1) the inorganic and fixed elements; that is to say, the ashes, or the bones, as it were, of the fossil trees, which cannot be burnt; (2) coke, or the residuary carbon, after being deprived of the volatile matter; (3) the volatile matter itself given off during combustion in the form of flame and smoke.

The relative proportions of these materials in the various kinds of coals are as follows.--

Carbon, Volatile, Ashes, per cent. per cent. per cent. Cannel or gas coals. 40 to 60 60 to 40 10 Newcastle or “house” coals. 57 37 5 Lancashire and Yorkshire coals. 50 to 60 35 to 40 4 South Welsh or “steam” coals. 81 to 85 11 to 15 3 Anthracite or “stone” coals. 80 to 95 None a little.

In the metropolis the Newcastle coal is chiefly used, and this, we perceive, yields five per cent. ashes and about 57 per cent. carbon. But a considerable part of the carbon is converted into carbonic acid during combustion; if, therefore, we assume that two-thirds of the carbon are thus consumed, and that the remaining third remains behind in the form of cinder, we shall have about 25 per cent. of “dust” from every ton of coal. On inquiry of those who have had long experience in this matter, I find that a ton of coal may be fairly said on an average to yield about one-fourth its weight in dust; hence the gross amount of “dust” annually produced in London would be 900,000 tons, or about three tons per house per annum.

It is impossible to obtain any definite statistics on this part of the subject. Not one in every ten of the contractors keeps any account of the amount that comes into the “yard.” An intelligent and communicative gentleman whom I consulted on this matter, could give me no information on this subject that was in any way satisfactory. I have, however, endeavoured to check the preceding estimate in the following manner. There are in London upwards of 300,000 inhabited houses, and each house furnishes a certain quota of dust to the general stock. I have ascertained that an average-sized house will produce, in the course of a year, about three cart-loads of dust, while each cart holds about 40 bushels (baskets)--what the dustmen call a chaldron. There are, of course, many houses in the metropolis which furnish three and four times this amount of dust, but against these may be placed the vast preponderance of small and poor houses in London and the suburbs, where there is not one quarter of the quantity produced, owing to the small amount of fuel consumed. Estimating, then, the average annual quantity of dust from each house at three loads, or chaldrons, and the houses at 300,000, it follows that the gross quantity collected throughout the metropolis will be about 900,000 chaldrons per annum.

The next part of the subject is--what becomes of this vast quantity of dust--to what use it is applied.

The dust thus collected is used for two purposes, (1) as a manure for land of a peculiar quality; and (2) for making bricks. The fine portion of the house-dust called “soil,” and separated from the “brieze,” or coarser portion, by sifting, is found to be peculiarly fitted for what is called breaking up a marshy heathy soil at its first cultivation, owing not only to the dry nature of the dust, but to its possessing in an eminent degree a highly separating quality, almost, if not quite, equal to sand. In former years the demand for this finer dust was very great, and barges were continually in the river waiting their turn to be loaded with it for some distant part of the country. At that time the contractors were unable to supply the demand, and easily got 1_l._ per chaldron for as much as they could furnish, and then, as I have stated, many ships were in the habit of bringing cargoes of it from the North, and of realizing a good profit on the transaction. Of late years, however--and particularly, I am told, since the repeal of the corn-laws--this branch of the business has dwindled to nothing. The contractors say that the farmers do not cultivate their land now as they used; it will not pay them, and instead, therefore, of bringing fresh land into tillage, and especially such as requires this sort of manure, they are laying down that which they previously had in cultivation, and turning it into pasture grounds. It is principally on this account, say the contractors, that we cannot sell the dust we collect so well or so readily as formerly. There are, however, some cargoes of the dust still taken, particularly to the lowlands in the neighbourhood of Barking, and such other places in the vicinity of the metropolis as are enabled to realize a greater profit, by growing for the London markets. Nevertheless, the contractors are obliged now to dispose of the dust at 2_s._ 6_d._ per chaldron, and sometimes less.

The finer dust is also used to mix with the clay for making bricks, and barge-loads are continually shipped off for this purpose. The fine ashes are added to the clay in the proportion of one-fifth ashes to four-fifths clay, or 60 chaldrons to 240 cubic yards, which is sufficient to make 100,000 bricks (where much sand is mixed with the clay a smaller proportion of ashes may be used). This quantity requires also the addition of about 15 chaldrons, or, if mild, of about 12 chaldrons of “brieze,” to aid the burning. The ashes are made to mix with the clay by collecting it into a sort of reservoir fitted up for the purpose; water in great quantities is let in upon it, and it is then stirred till it resembles a fine thin paste, in which state the dust easily mingles with every part of it. In this condition it is left till the water either soaks into the earth, or goes off by evaporation, when the bricks are moulded in the usual manner, the dust forming a component part of them.

The ashes, or cindered matter, which are thus dispersed throughout the substance of the clay, become, in the process of burning, gradually ignited and consumed. But the “brieze” (from the French briser, to break or crush), that is to say, the coarser portion of the coal-ash, is likewise used in the burning of the bricks. The small spaces left among the lowest courses of the bricks in the kiln, or “clamp,” are filled with “brieze,” and a thick layer of the same material is spread on the top of the kilns, when full. Frequently the “brieze” is mixed with small coals, and after having been burnt the ashes are collected, and then mixed with the clay to form new bricks. The highest price at present given for “brieze” is 3_s._ per ton.

The price of the dust used by the brickmakers has likewise been reduced; this the contractors account for by saying that there are fewer brick-fields than formerly near London, as they have been nearly all built over. They assert, that while the amount of dust and cinders has increased proportionately to the increase of the houses, the demand for the article has decreased in a like ratio; and that, moreover, the greater portion of the bricks now used in London for the new buildings come from other quarters. Such dust, however, as the contractors sell to the brick-makers, they in general undertake, for a certain sum, to cart to the brick-fields, though it often happens that the brick-makers’ carts coming into town with their loads of bricks to new buildings, call on their return at the dust-yards, and carry thence a load of dust or cinders back, and so save the price of cartage.

But during the operation of sifting the dust, many things are found which are useless for either manure or brick-making, such as oyster shells, old bricks, old boots and shoes, old tin kettles, old rags and bones, &c. These are used for various purposes.

The bricks, &c., are sold for sinking beneath foundations, where a thick layer of concrete is spread over them. Many old bricks, too, are used in making new roads, especially where the land is low and marshy. The old tin goes to form the japanned fastenings for the corners of trunks, as well as to other persons, who re-manufacture it into a variety of articles. The old shoes are sold to the London shoemakers, who use them as stuffing between the in-sole and the outer one; but by far the greater quantity is sold to the manufacturers of Prussian blue, that substance being formed out of refuse animal matter. The rags and bones are of course disposed of at the usual places--the marine-store shops.

A dust-heap, therefore, may be briefly said to be composed of the following things, which are severally applied to the following uses:--

1. “Soil,” or fine dust, sold to brickmakers for making bricks, and to farmers for manure, especially for clover.

2. “Brieze,” or cinders, sold to brickmakers, for burning bricks.

3. Rags, bones, and old metal, sold to marine-store dealers.

4. Old tin and iron vessels, sold for “clamps” to trunks, &c., and for making copperas.

5. Old bricks and oyster shells, sold to builders, for sinking foundations, and forming roads.

6. Old boots and shoes, sold to Prussian-blue manufacturers.

7. Money and jewellery, kept, or sold to Jews.

The dust-yards, or places where the dust is collected and sifted, are generally situated in the suburbs, and they may be found all round London, sometimes occupying open spaces adjoining back streets and lanes, and surrounded by the low mean houses of the poor; frequently, however, they cover a large extent of ground in the fields, and there the dust is piled up to a great height in a conical heap, and having much the appearance of a volcanic mountain. The reason why the dust-heaps are confined principally to the suburbs is, that more space is to be found in the outskirts than in a thickly-peopled and central locality. Moreover, the fear of indictments for nuisance has had considerable influence in the matter, for it was not unusual for the yards in former times, to be located within the boundaries of the city. They are now, however, scattered round London, and always placed as near as possible to the river, or to some canal communicating therewith. In St. George’s, Shadwell, Ratcliffe, Limehouse, Poplar, and Blackwall, on the north side of the Thames, and in Redriffe, Bermondsey, and Rotherhithe, on the south, they are to be found near the Thames. The object of this is, that by far the greater quantity of the soil or ashes is conveyed in sailing-barges, holding from 70 to 100 tons each, to Feversham, Sittingbourne, and other places in Kent, which are the great brick-making manufactories for London. These barges come up invariably loaded with bricks, and take home in return a cargo of soil. Other dust-yards are situated contiguous to the Regent’s and the Surrey canal; and for the same reason as above stated--for the convenience of water carriage. Moreover, adjoining the Limehouse cut, which is a branch of the Lea River, other dust-yards may be found; and again travelling to the opposite end of the metropolis, we discover them not only at Paddington on the banks of the canal, but at Maiden-lane in a similar position. Some time since there was an immense dust-heap in the neighbourhood of Gray’s-inn-lane, which sold for 20,000_l._; but that was in the days when 15_s._ and 1_l._ per chaldron could easily be procured for the dust. According to the present rate, not a tithe of that amount could have been realized upon it.

A visit to any of the large metropolitan dust-yards is far from uninteresting. Near the centre of the yard rises the highest heap, composed of what is called the “soil,” or finer portion of the dust used for manure. Around this heap are numerous lesser heaps, consisting of the mixed dust and rubbish carted in and shot down previous to sifting. Among these heaps are many women and old men with sieves made of iron, all busily engaged in separating the “brieze” from the “soil.” There is likewise another large heap in some other part of the yard, composed of the cinders or “brieze” waiting to be shipped off to the brickfields. The whole yard seems alive, some sifting and others shovelling the sifted soil on to the heap, while every now and then the dust-carts return to discharge their loads, and proceed again on their rounds for a fresh supply. Cocks and hens keep up a continual scratching and cackling among the heaps, and numerous pigs seem to find great delight in rooting incessantly about after the garbage and offal collected from the houses and markets.

In a dust-yard lately visited the sifters formed a curious sight; they were almost up to their middle in dust, ranged in a semi-circle in front of that part of the heap which was being “worked;” each had before her a small mound of soil which had fallen through her sieve and formed a sort of embankment, behind which she stood. The appearance of the entire group at their work was most peculiar. Their coarse dirty cotton gowns were tucked up behind them, their arms were bared above their elbows, their black bonnets crushed and battered like those of fish-women; over their gowns they wore a strong leathern apron, extending from their necks to the extremities of their petticoats, while over this, again, was another leathern apron, shorter, thickly padded, and fastened by a stout string or strap round the waist. In the process of their work they pushed the sieve from them and drew it back again with apparent violence, striking it against the outer leathern apron with such force that it produced each time a hollow sound, like a blow on the tenor drum. All the women present were middle aged, with the exception of one who was very old--68 years of age she told me--and had been at the business from a girl. She was the daughter of a dustman, the wife, or woman of a dustman, and the mother of several young dustmen--sons and grandsons--all at work at the dust-yards at the east end of the metropolis.

We now come to speak of the labourers engaged in collecting, sifting, or shipping off the dust of the metropolis.

The dustmen, scavengers, and nightmen are, to a certain extent, the same people. The contractors generally agree with the various parishes to remove both the dust from the houses and the mud from the streets; the men in their employ are indiscriminately engaged in these two diverse occupations, collecting the dust to-day, and often cleansing the streets on the morrow, and are designated either dustmen or scavengers, according to their particular avocation at the moment. The case is somewhat different, however, with respect to the nightmen. There is no such thing as a contract with the parish for removing the nightsoil. This is done by private agreement with the landlord of the premises whence the soil has to be removed. When a cesspool requires emptying, the occupying tenant communicates with the landlord, who makes an arrangement with a dust-contractor or sweep-nightman for this purpose. This operation is totally distinct from the regular or daily labour of the dust-contractor’s men, who receive extra pay for it; sometimes one set go out at night and sometimes another, according either to the selection of the master or the inclination of the men. There are, however, some dustmen who have never been at work as nightmen, and could not be induced to do so, from an invincible antipathy to the employment; still, such instances are few, for the men generally go whenever they can, and occasionally engage in nightwork for employers unconnected with their masters. It is calculated that there are some hundreds of men employed nightly in the removal of the nightsoil of the metropolis during the summer and autumn, and as these men have often to work at dust-collecting or cleansing the streets on the following day, it is evident that the same persons cannot be thus employed every night; accordingly the ordinary practice is for the dustmen to “take it in turns,” thus allowing each set to be employed every third night, and to have two nights’ rest in the interim.

The men, therefore, who collect the dust on one day may be cleaning the streets on the next, especially during wet weather, and engaged at night, perhaps, twice during the week, in removing nightsoil; so that it is difficult to arrive at any precise notion as to the number of persons engaged in any one of these branches per se.

But these labourers not only work indiscriminately at the collection of dust, the cleansing of the streets, or the removal of nightsoil, but they are employed almost as indiscriminately at the various branches of the dust business; with this qualification, however, that few men apply themselves continuously to any one branch of the business. The labourers employed in a dust-yard may be divided into two classes: those paid by the contractor; and those paid by the foreman or forewoman of the dust-heap, commonly called hill-man or hill-woman.

They are as follows:--

I. LABOURERS PAID BY THE CONTRACTORS, OR,

1. Yard foreman, or superintendent. This duty is often performed by the master, especially in small contracts.

2. Gangers or dust-collectors. These are called “fillers” and “carriers,” from the practice of one of the men who go out with the cart filling the basket, and the other carrying it on his shoulder to the vehicle.

3. Loaders of carts in the dust-yard for shipment.

4. Carriers of cinders to the cinder-heap, or bricks to the brick-heap.

5. Foreman or forewoman of the heap.

II. LABOURERS PAID BY THE HILL-MAN OR HILL-WOMAN.

1. Sifters, who are generally women, and mostly the wives or concubines of the dustmen, but sometimes the wives of badly-paid labourers.

2. Fillers-in, or shovellers of dust into the sieves of the sifters (one man being allowed to every two or three women).

3. Carriers off of bones, rags, metal, and other perquisites to the various heaps; these are mostly children of the dustmen.

A medium-sized dust-yard will employ about twelve collectors, three fillers-in, six sifters, and one foreman or forewoman; while a large yard will afford work to about 150 people.

There are four different modes of payment prevalent among the several labourers employed at the metropolitan dust-yards:--(1) by the day; (2) by the piece or load; (3) by the lump; (4) by perquisites.

1st. The foreman of the yard, where the master does not perform this duty himself, is generally one of the regular dustmen picked out by the master, for this purpose. He is paid, the sum of 2_s._ 6_d._ per day, or 15_s._ per week. In large yards there are sometimes two and even three yard-foremen at the same rate of wages. Their duty is merely to superintend the work. They do not labour themselves, and their exemption in this respect is considered, and indeed looked on by themselves, as a sort of premium for good services.

2nd. The gangers or collectors are generally paid 8_d._ per load for every load they bring into the yard. This is, of course, piece work, for the more hours the men work the more loads will they be enabled to bring, and the more pay will they receive. There are some yards where the carters get only 6_d._ per load, as, for instance, at Paddington. The Paddington men, however, are not considered inferior workmen to the rest of their fellows, but merely to be worse paid. In 1826, or 25 years ago, the carters had 1_s._ 6_d._ per load; but at that time the contractors were able to get 1_l._ per chaldron for the soil and “brieze” or cinders; then it began to fall in value, and according to the decrease in the price of these commodities, so have the wages of the dust-collectors been reduced. It will be at once seen that the reduction in the wages of the dustmen bears no proportion to the reduction in the price of soil and cinders, but it must be borne in mind that whereas the contractors formerly paid large sums for liberty to collect the dust, they now are paid large sums to remove it. This in some measure helps to account for the apparent disproportion, and tends, perhaps, to equalize the matter. The gangers, therefore, have 4_d._ each, per load when best paid. They consider from four to six loads a good day’s work, for where the contract is large, extending over several parishes, they often have to travel a long way for a load. It thus happens that while the men employed by the Whitechapel contractor can, when doing their utmost, manage to bring only four loads a day to the yard, which is situated in a place called the “ruins” in Lower Shadwell, the men employed by the Shadwell contractor can easily get eight or nine loads in a day. Five loads are about an average day’s work, and this gives them 1_s._ 8-1/2_d._ per day each, or 10_s._ per week. In addition to this, the men have their perquisites “in aid of wages.” The collectors are in the habit of getting beer or money in lieu thereof, at nearly all the houses from which they remove the dust, the public being thus in a manner compelled to make up the rate of wages, which should be paid by the employer, so that what is given to benefit the men really goes to the master, who invariably reduces the wages to the precise amount of the perquisites obtained. This is the main evil of the “perquisite system of payment” (a system of which the mode of paying waiters may be taken as the special type). As an instance of the injurious effects of this mode of payment in connection with the London dustmen, the collectors are forced, as it were, to extort from the public that portion of their fair earnings of which their master deprives them; hence, how can we wonder that they make it a rule when they receive neither beer nor money from a house to make as great a mess as possible the next time they come, scattering the dust and cinders about in such a manner, that, sooner than have any trouble with them, people mostly give them what they look for? One of the most intelligent men with whom I have spoken, gave me the following account of his perquisites for the last week, viz.: Monday, 5-1/2_d._; Tuesday, 6_d._; Wednesday, 4-1/2_d._; Thursday, 7_d._; Friday, 5-1/2_d._; and Saturday, 5_d._ This he received in money, and was independent of beer. He had on the same week drawn rather more than five loads each day, to the yard, which made his gross earnings for the week, wages and perquisites together, to be 14_s._ 0-1/2_d._ which he considers to be a fair average of his weekly earnings as connected with dust.

3rd. The loaders of the carts for shipment are the same persons as those who collect the dust, but thus employed for the time being. The pay for this work is by the “piece” also, 2_d._ per chaldron between four persons being the usual rate, or 1/2_d._ per man. The men so engaged have no perquisites. The barges into which they shoot the soil or “brieze,” as the case may be, hold from 50 to 70 chaldrons, and they consider the loading of one of these barges a good day’s work. The average cargo is about 60 chaldrons, which gives them 2_s._ 6_d._ per day, or somewhat more than their average earnings when collecting.

4th. The carriers of cinders to the cinder heap. I have mentioned that, ranged round the sifters in the dust-yard, are a number of baskets, into which are put the various things found among the dust, some of these being the property of the master, and others the perquisites of the hill man or woman, as the case may be. The cinders and old bricks are the property of the master, and to remove them to their proper heaps boys are employed by him at 1_s._ per day. These boys are almost universally the children of dustmen and sifters at work in the yard, and thus not only help to increase the earnings of the family, but qualify themselves to become the dustmen of a future day.

5th. The hill-man or hill-woman. The hill-man enters into an agreement with the contractor to sift all the dust in the yard throughout the year at so much per load and perquisites. The usual sum per load is 6_d._, nor have I been able to ascertain that any of these people undertake to do it at a less price. Such is the amount paid by the contractor for Whitechapel. The perquisites of the hill-man or hill-woman, are rags, bones, pieces of old metal, old tin or iron vessels, old boots and shoes, and one-half of the money, jewellery, or other valuables that may be found by the sifters.

The hill-man or hill-woman employs the following persons, and pays them at the following rates.

1st. The sifters are paid 1_s._ per day when employed, but the employment is not constant. The work cannot be pursued in wet weather, and the services of the sifters are required only when a large heap has accumulated, as they can sift much faster than the dust can be collected. The employment is therefore precarious; the payment has not, for the last 30 years at least, been more than 1_s._ per day, but the perquisites were greater. They formerly were allowed one-half of whatever was found; of late years, however, the hill-man has gradually reduced the perquisites “first one thing and then another,” until the only one they have now remaining is half of whatever money or other valuable article may be found in the process of sifting. These valuables the sifters often pocket, if able to do so unperceived, but if discovered in the attempt, they are immediately discharged.

2nd. “The fillers-in,” or shovellers of dust into the sieves of sifters, are in general any poor fellows who may be straggling about in search of employment. They are sometimes, however, the grown-up boys of dustmen, not yet permanently engaged by the contractor. These are paid 2_s._ per day for their labour, but they are considered more as casualty men, though it often happens, if “hands” are wanted, that they are regularly engaged by the contractors, and become regular dustmen for the remainder of their lives.

3rd. The little fellows, the children of the dustmen, who follow their mothers to the yard, and help them to pick rags, bones, &c., out of the sieve and put them into the baskets, as soon as they are able to carry a basket between two of them to the separate heaps, are paid 3_d._ or 4_d._ per day for this work by the hill-man.

The wages of the dustmen have been increased within the last seven years from 6_d._ per load to 8_d._ among the large contractors--the “small masters,” however, still continue to pay 6_d._ per load. This increase in the rate of remuneration was owing to the men complaining to the commissioners that they were not able to live upon what they earned at 6_d._; an enquiry was made into the truth of the men’s assertion, and the result was that the commissioners decided upon letting the contracts to such parties only as would undertake to pay a fair price to their workmen. The contractors, accordingly, increased the remuneration of the labourers; since then the principal masters have paid 8_d._ per load to the collectors. It is right I should add, that I could not hear--though I made special enquiries on the subject--that the wages had been in any one instance reduced since Free-trade has come into operation.

The usual hours of labour vary according to the mode of payment. The “collectors,” or men out with the cart, being paid by the load, work as long as the light lasts; the “fillers-in” and sifters, on the other hand, being paid by the day, work the ordinary hours, viz., from six to six, with the regular intervals for meals.

The summer is the worst time for all hands, for then the dust decreases in quantity; the collectors, however, make up for the “slackness” at this period by nightwork, and, being paid by the “piece” or load at the dust business, are not discharged when their employment is less brisk.

It has been shown that the dustmen who perambulate the streets usually collect five loads in a day; this, at 8_d._ per load, leaves them about 1_s._ 8_d._ each, and so makes their weekly earnings amount to about 10_s._ per week. Moreover, there are the “perquisites” from the houses whence they remove the dust; and further, the dust-collectors are frequently employed at the night-work, which is always a distinct matter from the dust-collecting, &c., and paid for independent of their regular weekly wages, so that, from all I can gather, the average wages of the men appear to be rather more than 15_s._ Some admitted to me, that in busy times they often earned 25_s._ a week.

Then, again, dustwork, as with the weaving of silk, is a kind of family work. The husband, wife, and children (unfortunately) all work at it. The consequence is, that the earnings of the whole have to be added together in order to arrive at a notion of the aggregate gains.

The following may therefore be taken as a fair average of the earnings of a dustman and his family when in full employment. The elder boys when able to earn 1_s._ a day set up for themselves, and do not allow their wages to go into the common purse.

£. s. d. £. s. d.

Man, 5 loads per day, or 30 loads per week, at 4_d._ per load 0 10 0

Perquisites, or beer money 0 2 9-1/2

Night-work for 2 nights a week 0 5 0 ------------ 0 17 9-1/2

Woman, or sifter, per week, at 1_s._ per day 0 6 0

Perquisites, say 3_d._ a day 0 1 6 ------------ 0 7 6

Child, 3_d._ per day, carrying rags, bones, &c. ------------ 0 1 6 ----------------- Total 1 6 9-1/2

These are the earnings, it should be borne in mind, of a family in full employment. Perhaps it may be fairly said that the earnings of the single men are, on an average, 15_s._ a week, and 1_l._ for the family men all the year round.

Now, when we remember that the wages of many agricultural labourers are but 8_s._ a week, and the earnings of many needlewomen not 6_d._ a day, it must be confessed that the remuneration of the dustmen, and even of the dustwomen, is comparatively high. This certainly is not due to what Adam Smith, in his chapter on the Difference of Wages, terms the “disagreeableness of the employment.” “The wages of labour,” he says, “vary with the ease or hardship, the cleanliness or dirtiness, the honourableness or dishonourableness, of the employment.” It will be seen--when we come to treat of the nightmen--that the most offensive, and perhaps the least honourable, of all trades, is far from ranking among the best paid, as it should, if the above principle held good. That the disagreeableness of the occupation may in a measure tend to decrease the competition among the labourers, there cannot be the least doubt, but that it will consequently induce, as political economy would have us believe, a larger amount of wages to accrue to each of the labourers, is certainly another of the many assertions of that science which must be pronounced “not proven.” For the dustmen are paid, if anything, less, and certainly not more, than the usual rate of payment to the London labourers; and if the earnings rank high, as times go, it is because all the members of the family, from the very earliest age, are able to work at the business, and so add to the general gains.

The dustmen are, generally speaking, an hereditary race; when children they are reared in the dust-yard, and are habituated to the work gradually as they grow up, after which, almost as a natural consequence, they follow the business for the remainder of their lives. These may be said to be born-and-bred dustmen. The numbers of the regular men are, however, from time to time recruited from the ranks of the many ill-paid labourers with which London abounds. When hands are wanted for any special occasion an employer has only to go to any of the dock-gates, to find at all times hundreds of starving wretches anxiously watching for the chance of getting something to do, even at the rate of 4_d._ per hour. As the operation of emptying a dust-bin requires only the ability to handle a shovel, which every labouring man can manage, all workmen, however unskilled, can at once engage in the occupation; and it often happens that the men thus casually employed remain at the calling for the remainder of their lives. There are no houses of call whence the men are taken on when wanting work. There are certainly public-houses, which are denominated houses of call, in the neighbourhood of every dust-yard, but these are merely the drinking shops of the men, whither they resort of an evening after the labour of the day is accomplished, and whence they are furnished in the course of the afternoon with beer; but such houses cannot be said to constitute the dustman’s “labour-market,” as in the tailoring and other trades, they being never resorted to as hiring-places, but rather used by the men only when hired. If a master have not enough “hands” he usually inquires among his men, who mostly know some who--owing, perhaps, to the failure of their previous master in getting his usual contract--are only casually employed at other places. Such men are immediately engaged in preference to others; but if these cannot be found, the contractors at once have recourse to the system already stated.

The manner in which the dust is collected is very simple. The “filler” and the “carrier” perambulate the streets with a heavily-built high box cart, which is mostly coated with a thick crust of filth, and drawn by a clumsy-looking horse. These men used, before the passing of the late Street Act, to ring a dull-sounding bell so as to give notice to housekeepers of their approach, but now they merely cry, in a hoarse unmusical voice, “Dust oy-eh!” Two men accompany the cart, which is furnished with a short ladder and two shovels and baskets. These baskets one of the men fills from the dust-bin, and then helps them alternately, as fast as they are filled, upon the shoulder of the other man, who carries them one by one to the cart, which is placed immediately alongside the pavement in front of the house where they are at work. The carrier mounts up the side of the cart by means of the ladder, discharges into it the contents of the basket on his shoulder, and then returns below for the other basket which his mate has filled for him in the interim. This process is pursued till all is cleared away, and repeated at different houses till the cart is fully loaded; then the men make the best of their way to the dust-yard, where they shoot the contents of the cart on to the heap, and again proceed on their regular rounds.

The dustmen, in their appearance, very much resemble the waggoners of the coal-merchants. They generally wear knee-breeches, with ancle boots or gaiters, short dirty smockfrocks or coarse gray jackets, and fantail hats. In one particular, however, they are at first sight distinguishable from the coal-merchants’ men, for the latter are invariably black from coal dust, while the dustmen, on the contrary, are gray with ashes.

In their personal appearance the dustmen are mostly tall stalwart fellows; there is nothing sickly-looking about them, and yet a considerable part of their time is passed in the yards and in the midst of effluvia most offensive, and, if we believe “zymotic theorists,” as unhealthy to those unaccustomed to them; nevertheless, the children, who may be said to be reared in the yard and to have inhaled the stench of the dust-heap with their first breath, are healthy and strong. It is said, moreover, that during the plague in London the dustmen were the persons who carted away the dead, and it remains a tradition among the class to the present day, that not one of them died of the plague, even during its greatest ravages. In Paris, too, it is well known, that, during the cholera of 1849, the quarter of Belleville, where the night-soil and refuse of the city is deposited, escaped the freest from the pestilence; and in London the dustmen boast that, during both the recent visitations of the cholera, they were altogether exempt from the disease. “Look at that fellow, sir!” said one of the dust-contractors to me, pointing to his son, who was a stout red-cheeked young man of about twenty. “Do you see anything ailing about him? Well, he has been in the yard since he was born. There stands my house just at the gate, so you see he hadn’t far to travel, and when quite a child he used to play and root away here among the dust all his time. I don’t think he ever had a day’s illness in his life. The people about the yard are all used to the smell and don’t complain about it. It’s all stuff and nonsense, all this talk about dust-yards being unhealthy. I’ve never done anything else all my days and I don’t think I look very ill. I shouldn’t wonder now but what I’d be set down as being fresh from the sea-side by those very fellows that write all this trash about a matter that they don’t know just that about;” and he snapped his fingers contemptuously in the air, and, thrusting both hands into his breeches pockets, strutted about, apparently satisfied that he had the best of the argument. He was, in fact, a stout, jolly, red-faced man. Indeed, the dustmen, as a class, appear to be healthy, strong men, and extraordinary instances of longevity are common among them. I heard of one dustman who lived to be 115 years; another, named Wood, died at 100; and the well-known Richard Tyrrell died only a short time back at the advanced age of 97. The misfortune is, that we have no large series of facts on this subject, so that the longevity and health of the dustmen might be compared with those of other classes.

In almost all their habits the Dustmen are similar to the Costermongers, with the exception that they seem to want their cunning and natural quickness, and that they have little or no predilection for gaming. Costermongers, however, are essentially traders, and all trade is a species of gambling--the risking of a certain sum of money to obtain more; hence spring, perhaps, the gambling propensities of low traders, such as costers, and Jew clothes-men; and hence, too, that natural sharpness which characterizes the same classes. The dustmen, on the contrary, have regular employment and something like regular wages, and therefore rest content with what they can earn in their usual way of business.

Very few of them understand cards, and I could not learn that they ever play at “pitch and toss.” I remarked, however, a number of parallel lines such as are used for playing “shove halfpenny,” on a deal table in the tap-room frequented by them. The great amusement of their evenings seems to be, to smoke as many pipes of tobacco and drink as many pots of beer as possible.

I believe it will be found that all persons in the habit of driving horses, such as cabmen, ’busmen, stage-coach drivers, &c., are peculiarly partial to intoxicating drinks. The cause of this I leave others to determine, merely observing that there would seem to be two reasons for it: the first is, their frequent stopping at public-houses to water or change their horses, so that the idea of drinking is repeatedly suggested to their minds even if the practice be not expected of them; while the second reason is, that being out continually in the wet, they resort to stimulating liquors as a preventive to “colds” until at length a habit of drinking is formed. Moreover, from the mere fact of passing continually through the air, they are enabled to drink a greater quantity with comparative impunity. Be the cause, however, what it may, the dustmen spend a large proportion of their earnings in drink. There is always some public-house in the neighbourhood of the dust-yard, where they obtain credit from one week to another, and here they may be found every night from the moment their work is done, drinking, and smoking their long pipes--their principal amusement consisting in “chaffing” each other. This “chaffing” consists of a species of scurrilous jokes supposed to be given and taken in good part, and the noise and uproar occasioned thereby increases as the night advances, and as the men get heated with liquor. Sometimes the joking ends in a general quarrel; the next morning, however, they are all as good friends as ever, and mutually agree in laying the blame on the “cussed drink.”

One-half, at least, of the dustmen’s earnings, is, I am assured, expended in drink, both man and woman assisting in squandering their money in this way. They usually live in rooms for which they pay from 1_s._ 6_d._ to 2_s._ per week rent, three or four dust-men and their wives frequently lodging in the same house. These rooms are cheerless-looking, and almost unfurnished--and are always situate in some low street or lane not far from the dust-yard. The men have rarely any clothes but those in which they work. For their breakfast the dustmen on their rounds mostly go to some cheap coffee-house, where they get a pint or half-pint of coffee, taking their bread with them as a matter of economy. Their midday meal is taken in the public-house, and is almost always bread and cheese and beer, or else a saveloy or a piece of fat pork or bacon, and at night they mostly “wind up” by deep potations at their favourite house of call.

There are many dustmen now advanced in years born and reared at the East-end of London, who have never in the whole course of their lives been as far west as Temple-bar, who know nothing whatever of the affairs of the country, and who have never attended a place of worship. As an instance of the extreme ignorance of these people, I may mention that I was furnished by one of the contractors with the address of a dustman whom his master considered to be one of the most intelligent men in his employ. Being desirous of hearing his statement from his own lips I sent for the man, and after some conversation with him was proceeding to note down what he said, when the moment I opened my note-book and took the pencil in my hand, he started up, exclaiming,--“No, no! I’ll have none of that there work--I’m not such a b---- fool as you takes me to be--I doesn’t understand it, I tells you, and I’ll not have it, now that’s plain;”--and so saying he ran out of the room, and descended the entire flight of stairs in two jumps. I followed him to explain, but unfortunately the pencil was still in one hand and the book in the other, and immediately I made my appearance at the door he took to his heels, again with three others who seemed to be waiting for him there. One of the most difficult points in my labours is to make such men as these comprehend the object or use of my investigations.

Among 20 men whom I met in one yard, there were only five who could read, and only two out of that five could write, even imperfectly. These two are looked up to by their companions as prodigies of learning and are listened to as oracles, on all occasions, being believed to understand every subject thoroughly. It need hardly be added, however, that their acquirements are of the most meagre character.

The dustmen are very partial to a song, and always prefer one of the doggrel street ballads, with what they call a “jolly chorus” in which, during their festivities, they all join with stentorian voices. At the conclusion there is usually a loud stamping of feet and rattling of quart pots on the table, expressive of their approbation.

The dustmen never frequent the twopenny hops, but sometimes make up a party for the “theaytre.” They generally go in a body with their wives, if married, and their “gals,” if single. They are always to be found in the gallery, and greatly enjoy the melodramas performed at the second-class minor theatres, especially if there be plenty of murdering scenes in them. The Garrick, previous to its being burnt, was a favourite resort of the East-end dustmen. Since that period they have patronized the Pavilion and the City of London.

The politics of the dustmen are on a par with their literary attainments--they cannot be said to have any. I cannot say that they are Chartists, for they have no very clear knowledge of what “the charter” requires. They certainly have a confused notion that it is something against the Government, and that the enactment of it would make them all right; but as to the nature of the benefits which it would confer upon them, or in what manner it would be likely to operate upon their interest, they have not, as a body, the slightest idea. They have a deep-rooted antipathy to the police, the magistrates, and all connected with the administration of justice, looking upon them as their natural enemies. They associate with none but themselves; and in the public-houses where they resort there is a room set apart for the special use of the “dusties,” as they are called, where no others are allowed to intrude, except introduced by one of themselves, or at the special desire of the majority of the party, and on such occasions the stranger is treated with great respect and consideration.

As to the morals of these people, it may easily be supposed that they are not of an over-strict character. One of the contractors said to me, “I’d just trust one of them as far as I could fling a bull by the tail; but then,” he added, with a callousness that proved the laxity of discipline among the men was due more to his neglect of his duty to them than from any special perversity on their parts, “that’s none of my business; they do my work, and that’s all I want with them, and all I care about. You see they’re not like other people, they’re reared to it. Their fathers before them were dustmen, and when lads they go into the yard as sifters, and when they grow up they take to the shovel, and go out with the carts. They learn all they know in the dust-yards, and you may judge from that what their learning is likely to be. If they find anything among the dust you may be sure that neither you nor I will ever hear anything about it; ignorant as they are, they know a little too much for that. They know, as well as here and there one, where the dolly-shop is; but, as I said before, that’s none of my business. Let every one look out for themselves, as I do, and then they need not care for any one.” [With such masters professing such principles--though it should be stated that the sentiments expressed on this occasion are but similar to what I hear from the lower class of traders every day--how can it be expected that these poor fellows can be above the level of the mere beasts of burden that they use.] “As to their women,” continued the master, “I don’t trouble my head about such things. I believe the dustmen are as good to them as other men; and I’m sure their wives would be as good as other women, if they only had the chance of the best. But you see they’re all such fellows for drink that they spend most of their money that way, and then starve the poor women, and knock them about at a shocking rate, so that they have the life of dogs, or worse. I don’t wonder at anything they do. Yes, they’re all married, as far as I know; that is, they live together as man and wife, though they’re not very particular, certainly, about the ceremony. The fact is, a regular dustman don’t understand much about such matters, and, I believe, don’t care much, either.”

From all I could learn on this subject, it would appear that, for one dustman that is married, 20 live with women, but remain constant to them; indeed, both men and women abide faithfully by each other, and for this reason--the woman earns nearly half as much as the man. If the men and women were careful and prudent, they might, I am assured, live well and comfortable; but by far the greater portion of the earnings of both go to the publican, for I am informed, on competent authority, that a dustman will not think of sitting down for a spree without his woman. The children, as soon as they are able to go into the yard, help their mothers in picking out the rags, bones, &c., from the sieve, and in putting them in the basket. They are never sent to school, and as soon as they are sufficiently strong are mostly employed in some capacity or other by the contractor, and in due time become dustmen themselves. Some of the children, in the neighbourhood of the river, are mud-larks, and others are bone-grubbers and rag-gatherers, on a small scale; neglected and thrown on their own resources at an early age, without any but the most depraved to guide them, it is no wonder to find that many of them turn thieves. To this state of the case there are, however, some few exceptions.

Some of the dustmen are prudent well-behaved men and have decent homes; many of this class have been agricultural labourers, who by distress, or from some other cause, have found their way to London. This was the case with one whom I talked with: he had been a labourer in Essex, employed by a farmer named Izzod, whom he spoke of as being a kind good man. Mr. Izzod had a large farm on the Earl of Mornington’s estate, and after he had sunk his capital in the improvement of the land, and was about to reap the fruits of his labour and his money, the farmer was ejected at a moment’s notice, beggared and broken-hearted. This occurred near Roydon, in Essex. The labourer, finding it difficult to obtain work in the country, came to London, and, discovering a cousin of his engaged in a dust-yard, got employed through him at the same place, where he remains to the present day. This man was well clothed, he had good strong lace boots, gray worsted stockings, a stout pair of corduroy breeches, a short smockfrock and fantail. He has kept himself aloof, I am told, from the drunkenness and dissipation of the dustmen. He says that many of the new hands that get to dustwork are mechanics or people who have been “better off,” and that these get thinking about what they have been, till to drown their care they take to drinking, and often become, in the course of a year or so, worse than the “old hands” who have been reared to the business and have “nothing at all to think about.”

Among the dustmen there is no “Society” nor “Benefit Club,” specially devoted to the class--no provident institution whence they can obtain “relief” in the event of sickness or accident. The consequence is that, when ill or injured, they are obliged to obtain letters of admission to some of the hospitals, and there remain till cured. In cases of total incapacity for labour, their invariable refuge is the workhouse; indeed they look forward (whenever they foresee at all) to this asylum as their resting-place in old age, with the greatest equanimity, and talk of it as “the house” par excellence, or as “the big house,” “the great house,” or “the old house.” There are, however, scattered about in every part of London numerous benefit clubs made up of working-men of every description, such as Old Friends, Odd Fellows, Foresters, and Birmingham societies, and with some one or other of these the better class of dustmen are connected. The general rule, however, is, that the men engaged in this trade belong to no benefit club whatever, and that in the season of their adversity they are utterly unprovided for, and consequently become burdens to the parishes wherein they happen to reside.

I visited a large dust-yard at the east end of London, for the purpose of getting a statement from one of the men. My informant was, at the time of my visit, shovelling the sifted soil from one of the lesser heaps, and, by a great effort of strength and activity, pitching each shovel-full to the top of a lofty mound, somewhat resembling a pyramid. Opposite to him stood a little woman, stoutly made, and with her arms bare above the elbow; she was his partner in the work, and was pitching shovel-full for shovel-full with him to the summit of the heap. She wore an old soiled cotton gown, open in front, and tucked up behind in the fashion of the last century. She had clouts of old rags tied round her ancles to prevent the dust from getting into her shoes, a sort of coarse towel fastened in front for an apron, and a red handkerchief bound tightly round her head. In this trim she worked away, and not only kept pace with the man, but often threw two shovels for his one, although he was a tall, powerful fellow. She smiled when she saw me noticing her, and seemed to continue her work with greater assiduity. I learned that she was deaf, and spoke so indistinctly that no stranger could understand her. She had also a defect in her sight, which latter circumstance had compelled her to abandon the sifting, as she could not well distinguish the various articles found in the dust-heap. The poor creature had therefore taken to the shovel, and now works with it every day, doing the labour of the strongest men.

From the man above referred to I obtained the following statement:--“Father vos a dustie;--vos at it all his life, and grandfather afore him for I can’t tell how long. Father vos allus a rum ’un;--sich a beggar for lush. Vhy I’m blowed if he vouldn’t lush as much as half-a-dozen on ’em can lush now; somehow the dusties hasn’t got the stuff in ’em as they used to have. A few year ago the fellers ’u’d think nothink o’ lushin avay for five or six days without niver going anigh their home. I niver vos at a school in all my life; I don’t know what it’s good for. It may be wery well for the likes o’ you, but I doesn’t know it ’u’d do a dustie any good. You see, ven I’m not out with the cart, I digs here all day; and p’raps I’m up all night, and digs avay agen the next day. Vot does I care for reading, or anythink of that there kind, ven I gets home arter my vork? I tell you vot I likes, though! vhy, I jist likes two or three pipes o’ baccer, and a pot or two of good heavy and a song, and then I tumbles in with my Sall, and I’m as happy as here and there von. That there Sall of mine’s a stunner--a riglar stunner. There ain’t never a voman can sift a heap quickerer nor my Sall. Sometimes she yarns as much as I does; the only thing is, she’s sitch a beggar for lush, that there Sall of mine, and then she kicks up sitch jolly rows, you niver see the like in your life. That there’s the only fault, as I know on, in Sall; but, barring that, she’s a hout-and-houter, and worth a half-a-dozen of t’ other sifters--pick ’em out vare you likes. No, we ain’t married ’zactly, though it’s all one for all that. I sticks to Sall, and Sall sticks to I, and there’s an end on’t:--vot is it to any von? I rec’lects a-picking the rags and things out of mother’s sieve, when I were a young ’un, and a putting ’em all in the heap jist as it might be there. I vos allus in a dust-yard. I don’t think I could do no how in no other place. You see I vouldn’t be ’appy like; I only knows how to vork at the dust ’cause I’m used to it, and so vos father afore me, and I’ll stick to it as long as I can. I yarns about half-a-bull [2_s._ 6_d._] a day, take one day with another. Sall sometimes yarns as much, and ven I goes out at night I yarns a bob or two more, and so I gits along pretty tidy; sometimes yarnin more and sometimes yarnin less. I niver vos sick as I knows on; I’ve been queerish of a morning a good many times, but I doesn’t call that sickness; it’s only the lush and nothink more. The smells nothink at all, ven you gits used to it. Lor’ bless you! you’d think nothink on it in a veek’s time,--no, no more nor I do. There’s tventy on us vorks here--riglar. I don’t think there’s von on ’em ’cept Scratchey Jack can read, but he can do it stunning; he’s out vith the cart now, but he’s the chap as can patter to you as long as he likes.”

Concerning the capital and income of the London dust business, the following estimate may be given as to the amount of property invested in and accruing to the trade.

It has been computed that there are 90 contractors, large and small; of these upwards of two-thirds, or about 35, may be said to be in a considerable way of business, possessing many carts and horses, as well as employing a large body of people; some yards have as many as 150 hands connected with them. The remaining 55 masters are composed of “small men,” some of whom are known as “running dustmen,” that is to say, persons who collect the dust without any sanction from the parish; but the number belonging to this class has considerably diminished since the great deterioration in the price of “brieze.” Assuming, then, that the great and little master dustmen employ on an average between six and seven carts each, we have the following statement as to the

CAPITAL OF THE LONDON DUST TRADE.

600 Carts, at 20_l._ each £12,000 600 Horses, at 25_l._ each 15,000 600 Sets of harness, at 2_l._ per set 1,200 600 Ladders, at 5_s._ each 150 1200 Baskets, at 2_s._ each 120 1200 Shovels, at 2_s._ each 120 ------- Being a total capital of £28,590 -------

If, therefore, we assert that the capital of this trade is between 25,000_l._ and 30,000_l._ in value, we shall not be far wrong either way.

Of the annual income of the same trade, it is almost impossible to arrive at any positive results; but, in the absence of all authentic information on the subject, we may make the subjoined conjecture.

INCOME OF THE LONDON DUST TRADE.

Sum paid to contractors for the removal of dust from the 176 metropolitan parishes, at 200_l._ each parish £35,200

Sum obtained for 900,000 loads of dust, at 2_s._ 6_d._ per load 112,500 -------- £147,700 --------

Thus it would appear that the total income of the dust trade may be taken at between 145,000_l._ and 150,000_l._ per annum.

Against this we have to set the yearly out-goings of the business, which may be roughly estimated as follows:--

EXPENDITURE OF THE LONDON DUST TRADE.

Wages of 1800 labourers, at 10_s._ a week each (including sifters and carriers) £46,800 Keep of 600 horses, at 10_s._ a week each 15,600 Wear and tear of stock in trade 4000 Rent for 90 yards, at 100_l._ a year each (large and small) 9000 ------- £75,400 -------

The above estimates give us the following aggregate results:--

Total yearly incomings of the London dust trade £147,700 Total yearly out-goings 75,400 -------- Total yearly profit £72,300 --------

Hence it would appear that the profits of the dust-contractors are very nearly at the rate of 100_l._ per cent. on their expenditure. I do not think I have over estimated the incomings, or under estimated the out-goings; at least I have striven to avoid doing so, in order that no injustice might be done to the members of the trade.

This aggregate profit, when divided among the 90 contractors, will make the clear gains of each master dustman amount to about 800_l._ per annum: of course some derive considerably more than this amount, and some considerably less.

OF THE LONDON SEWERAGE AND SCAVENGERY.

The subject I have now to treat--principally as regards street-labour, but generally in its sanitary, social, and economical bearings--may really be termed vast. It is of the cleansing of a capital city, with its thousands of miles of streets and roads on the surface, and its thousands of miles of sewers and drains under the surface of the earth. And first let me deal with the subject in a historical point of view.

Public scavengery or street-cleansing, from the earliest periods of our history, since municipal authority regulated the internal economy of our cities, has been an object of some attention. In the records of all our civic corporations may be found bye-laws, or some equivalent measure, to enforce the cleansing of the streets. But these regulations were little enforced. It was ordered that the streets should be swept, but often enough men were not employed by the authorities to sweep them; until after the great fire of London, and in many parts for years after that, the tradesman’s apprentice swept the dirt from the front of his master’s house, and left it in the street, to be removed at the leisure of the scavenger. This was in the streets most famous for the wealth and commercial energy of the inhabitants. The streets inhabited by the poor, until about the beginning of the present century, were rarely swept at all. The unevenness of the pavement, the accumulation of wet and mud in rainy weather, the want of foot-paths, and sometimes even of grates and kennels, made Cowper, in one of his letters, describe a perambulation of some of these streets as “going by water.”

Even this state of things was, however, an improvement. In the accounts of the London street-broils and fights, from the reign of Henry III., more especially during the war of the Roses, down to the civil war which terminated in the beheading of Charles I., mention is more or less made of the combatants having availed themselves of the shelter of the rubbish in the streets. These mounds of rubbish were then kinds of street-barricades, opposing the progress of passengers, like the piles of overturned omnibuses and other vehicles of the modern French street-combatants. There is no doubt that in the older times these mounds were composed, first, of the earth dug out for the foundation of some building, or the sinking of some well, or (later on) the formation of some drain; for these works were often long in hand, not only from the interruptions of civil strife and from want of funds, but from indifference, owing to the long delay in their completion, and were often altogether abandoned. After dusk the streets of the capital of England could not be traversed without lanterns or torches. This was the case until the last 40 or 50 years in nearly all the smaller towns of England, but there the darkness was the principal obstacle; in the inferior parts of “Old London,” however, there were the additional inconveniences of broken limbs and robbery.

It would be easy to adduce instances from the olden writers in proof of all the above statements, but it seems idle to cite proofs of what is known to all.

The care of the streets, however, as regards the removal of the dirt, or, as the weather might be, the dust and mud, seems never to have been much of a national consideration. It was left to the corporations and the parishes. Each of these had its own especial arrangements for the collection and removal of dirt in its own streets; and as each parochial or municipal system generally differed in some respect or other, taken as a whole, there was no one general mode or system adopted. To all this the street-management of our own days, in the respect of scavengery, and, as I shall show, of sewerage, presents a decided improvement. This improvement in street-management is not attributable to any public agitation--to any public, and, far less, national manifestation of feeling. It was debated sometimes in courts of Common Council, in ward and parochial meetings, but the public generally seem to have taken no express interest in the matter. The improvement seems to have established itself gradually from the improved tastes and habits of the people.

Although generally left to the local powers, the subject of street-cleansing and management, however, has not been entirely overlooked by Parliament. Among parliamentary enactments is the measure best known as “Michael Angelo Taylor’s Act,” passed early in the present century, which requires all householders every morning to remove from the front of their premises any snow which may have fallen during the night, &c., &c.; the late Police Acts also embrace subordinately the subject of street-management.

On the other hand the sewers have long been the object of national care. “The daily great damages and losses which have happened in many and divers parts of this realm” (I give the spirit of the preamble of several Acts of Parliament), “as well by the reason of the outrageous flowings, surges, and course of the river in and upon the marsh grounds and other low places, heretofore through public wisdom won and made profitable for the great commonwealth of this realm, as also by occasion of land waters and other outrageous springs in and upon meadows, pastures, and other low grounds adjoining to rivers, floods, and other water-courses,” caused parliamentary attention to be given to the subject.

Until towards the latter part of the last century, however, the streets even of the better order were often flooded during heavy and continuous rains, owing to the sewers and drains having been choked, so that the sewage forced its way through the gratings into the streets and yards, flooding all the underground apartments and often the ground floors of the houses, as well as the public thoroughfares with filth.

It is not many months since the neighbourhood of so modern a locality as Waterloo-bridge was flooded in this manner, and boats were used in the Belvidere and York-roads. On the 1st of August, 1846, after a tremendous storm of thunder, hail, and rain, miles of the capital were literally under water; hundreds of publicans’ beer-cellars contained far more water than beer, and the damage done was enormous. These facts show that though much has been accomplished towards the efficient sewerage of the metropolis, much remains to be accomplished still.

The first statute on the subject of the public sewerage was as early as the 9th year of the reign of Henry III. There were enactments, also, in most of the succeeding reigns, but they were all partial and conflicting, and related more to local desiderata than to any system of sewerage for the public benefit, until the reign of Henry VIII., when the “Bill of Sewers” was passed (in 1531). This act provided for a more general system of sewerage in the cities and towns of the kingdom, requiring the main channels to be of certain depths and dimensions, according to the localities, situation, &c. In many parts of the country the sewerage is still carried on according to the provisions in the act of Henry VIII., but those provisions were modified, altered, or “explained,” by many subsequent statutes.

Any uniformity which might have arisen from the observance of the same principles of sewerage was effectually checked by the measures adopted in London, more especially during the last 100 years. As the metropolis increased new sewerage became necessary, and new local bodies were formed for its management. These were known as the Commissions of Sewers, and the members of those bodies acted independently one of another, under the authority of their own Acts of Parliament, each having its own board, engineers, clerks, officers, and workmen. Each commission was confined to its own district, and did what was accounted best for its own district with little regard to any general plan of sewerage, so that London was, and in a great measure is, sewered upon different principles, as to the size of the sewers and drains, the rates of inclination, &c. &c. In 1847 there were eight of these districts and bodies: the City of London, the Tower Hamlets, Saint Katherine’s, Poplar and Blackwall, Holborn and Finsbury, Westminster and part of Middlesex, Surrey and Kent, and Greenwich. In 1848 these several bodies were concentrated by act of parliament, and entitled the “Metropolitan Commission of Sewers;” but the City of London, as appears to be the case with every parliamentary measure affecting the metropolis, presents an exception, as it retains a separate jurisdiction, and is not under the control of the general commissioners, to whom parliament has given authority over such matters.

The management of the metropolitan scavengery and sewerage, therefore, differs in this respect. The scavengery is committed to the care of the several parishes, each making its own contract; the sewerage is consigned by Parliament to a body of commissioners. In both instances, however, the expenses are paid out of local rates.

I shall now proceed to treat of each of these subjects separately, beginning with the cleansing of the streets.

OF THE STREETS OF LONDON.

There are now three modes of pavement in the streets of the metropolis.

1. The stone pavement (commonly composed of Aberdeen granite).

2. The macadamized pavement, or rather road.

3. The wood pavement.

The stone pavement has generally, in the several towns of England, been composed of whatever material the quarries or rocks of the neighbourhood supplied, limestone being often thus used. In some places, where there were no quarries available, the stones of a river or rivulet-side were used, but these were rounded and slippery, and often formed but a rugged pathway. For London pavement, the neighbourhood not being rich in stone quarries, granite has usually been brought by water from Scotland, and a small quantity from Guernsey for the pavement of the streets. The stone pavement is made by the placing of the granite stones, hewn and shaped ready for the purpose, side by side, with a foundation of concrete. The concrete now used for the London street-pavement is Thames ballast, composed of shingles, or small stones, and mixed with lime, &c.

Macadamization was not introduced into the streets of London until about 25 years ago. Before that, it had been carried to what was accounted a great degree of perfection on many of the principal mail and coach roads. Some 50 miles on the Great North Road, or that between London and Carlisle, were often pointed out as an admirable specimen of road-making on Mac Adam’s principles. This road was well known in the old coaching days as Leming-lane, running from Boroughbridge to Greta Bridge, in Yorkshire.

The first thoroughfare in London which was macadamized, a word adapted from the name of Sir W. Mac Adam, the originator or great improver of the system, was St. James’s-square; after that, some of the smaller streets in the aristocratic parishes of St. James and St. George were thus paved, and then, but not without great opposition, Piccadilly. The opposition to the macadamizing of the latter thoroughfare assumed many forms. Independently of the conflicting statements as to extravagance and economy, it was urged by the opponents, that the dust and dirt of the new style of paving would cause the street to be deserted by the aristocracy--that the noiselessness of the traffic would cause the deaths of the deaf and infirm--that the aristocracy promoted this new-fangled street-making, that they might the better “sleep o’ nights,” regardless of all else. One writer especially regretted that the Duke of Queensberry, popularly known as “Old Q.,” who resided at the western end of Piccadilly, had not lived to enjoy, undisturbed by vulgar noises, his bed of down, until it was his hour to rise and take his bath of perfumed milk! In short, there was all the fuss and absurdity which so often characterise local contests.

The macadamized street is made by a layer of stones, broken small and regular in size, and spread evenly over the road, so that the pressure and friction of the traffic will knead, grind, crush, and knit them into one compact surface. Until road-making became better understood, or until the early part of the present century, the roads even in the suburbs immediately connected with London, such as Islington, Kingsland, Stoke Newington, and Hackney, were “repaired when they wanted it.” If there were a “rut,” or a hole, it was filled up or covered over with stones, and as the drivers usually avoided such parts, for the sake of their horses’ feet, another rut was speedily formed alongside of the original one. Under the old system, road-mending was patch-work; defects were sought to be remedied, but there was little or no knowledge of constructing or of reconstructing the surface as a whole.

The wood pavement came last, and was not established, even partially, until eleven or twelve years ago. One of the earliest places so paved was the Old Bailey, in order that the noise of the street-traffic might be deadened in the Criminal Courts. The same plan was adopted alongside some of the churches, and other public buildings, where external quietude, or, at any rate, diminished noise, was desired. At the first, there were great complaints made, and frequent expostulations addressed to the editors of the newspapers, as to the slipperiness of the wooden ways. The wood pavement is formed of blocks of wood, generally deal, fitted to one another by grooves, by joints, or by shape, for close adjustment. They are placed on the road over a body of concrete, in the same way as granite.

“In constructing roads, or rather streets, through towns or cities, where the amount of traffic is considerable, it will be found desirable,” says Mr. Law, in his ‘Treatise on the Constructing and Repairing of Roads,’ “to pave their surface. The advantages belonging to pavements in such situations over macadamized roads are considerable; where the latter are exposed to an incessant and heavy traffic, their surface becomes rapidly worn, rendering constant repairs requisite, which are not only attended with very heavy expense, but also render the road very unpleasant for being travelled upon while being done; they also require much more attention in the way of scraping or sweeping, and in raking in ruts. And some difficulty would be experienced in towns to find places in which the materials, which would be constantly wanted for repairing the road, could be deposited. In dry weather the macadamized road would always be dusty, and in wet weather it would be covered with mud. The only advantage which such a road really possesses over a pavement is the less noise produced by carriages in passing over it; but this advantage is very small when the pavement is properly laid.”

Concerning wood pavements the same gentleman says, “Of late years wood has been introduced as a material for paving streets, and has been rather extensively employed both in Russia and America. It has been tried in various parts of London, and generally with small success, the cause of its failure being identical with the cause of the enormous sums being spent annually in the repairs of the streets generally, namely, the want of a proper foundation; a want which was sooner felt with wood than with granite, in consequence of the less weight and inertia of the wood. The comfort resulting from the use of wooden pavement, both to those who travelled, and those who lived in the streets, from the diminished jolting and noise, was so great, that it is just matter of surprise that so little care was taken in forming that which a very little consideration would have shown to be indispensable to its success, namely, a good foundation. Slipperiness of its surface, in particular states of the weather, was also found to be a disadvantage belonging to wooden pavement; but means might be devised which would render its surface at all times safe, and afford a secure footing for horses. As regards durability, it has scarcely been used for a sufficient period to allow a comparison being made with other materials, but from the result of some observations communicated by Mr. Hope to the Scottish Society of Arts, it appears that wooden blocks when placed with the end of the grain exposed, wear less than granite. At first sight, this result might appear questionable, but it is a well-ascertained fact that, where wood and iron move in contact in machinery, the iron generally wears more rapidly than the wood, the reason appearing to be, that the surface of the wood soon becomes covered with particles of dust and grit, which become partially embedded in it, and, while they serve to protect the wood, convert its surface into a species of file, which rapidly wears away whatever it rubs against.”

Such then are the different modes of constructing the London roads or streets. I shall now endeavour to show the relative length, and relative cost of the streets thus severally prepared for the commercial, professional, and pleasurable transit of the metropolis.

The comparative extent of the macadamized, of the stone, and of the wood pavement of the streets of the metropolis has not as yet been ascertained, for no general account has appeared condensing the reports, returns, accounts, &c., of the several specific bodies of management into one grand total.

It is, however, possible to arrive at an approximation as to the comparative extent I have spoken of; and in this attempt at approximation, in the absence of all means of a definite statistical computation, I have had the assistance of an experienced and practical surveyor, familiar with the subject.

Macadamization prevails beyond the following boundaries:--

North of the New-road and of its extension, as the City-road, and westward of the New-road’s junction with Lisson-grove.

Westward of Park-lane and of the West-end parks.

Eastward of Brick-lane (Spitalfields) and of the Whitechapel High-street.

Southward (on the Surrey side) from the New-cut and Long-lane, Bermondsey, and both in the eastern and western direction of Southwark, Lambeth, and the other southern parishes.

Stone pavement, on the other hand, prevails in the district which may be said to be within this boundary, bearing down upon the Thames in all directions.

It is, doubtlessly, the fact that in both the districts thus indicated exceptions to the general rule may prevail--that in one, for instance, there may be some miles of macadamized way, and in the other some miles of granite pavements; but such exceptions, I am told by a Commissioner of Paving, may fairly be dismissed as balancing each other.

The wooden pavement, I am informed on the same authority, does not now comprise five miles of the London thoroughfares; little notice, therefore, need be taken of it.

The miles of streets in the City in which stone only affords the street medium of locomotion are 50. The stone pavement in the localities outside of this area are six times, or approaching to seven times, the extent of that in the City. I have no actual admeasurement to demonstrate this point, for none exists, and no private individual can offer to measure hundreds of miles of streets in order to ascertain the composition of their surface. But the calculation has been made for me by a gentleman thoroughly conversant with the subject, and well acquainted with the general relative proportion of the defined districts, parishes, and boroughs of the metropolis.

We have thus the following result, as regards the inner police district, or Metropolis Proper:--

Miles. Granite paved streets 400 Macadamized ditto (or roads) 1350 Wood ditto 5 ---- Total 1755

This may appear a disproportionate estimate, but when it is remembered that the inner police district of the metropolis extends as far as Hampstead, Tooting, Brentford, and Greenwich, it will be readily perceived that the relative proportions of the macadamized and paved roads are much about the same as is here stated.

As to the cost of these several roads, I will, before entering upon that part of the subject, state the prices of the different materials used in their manufacture.

Aberdeen granite is now 1_l._ 5_s._ per ton, delivered, and prepared for paving, or, as it is often called, “pitching.” A ton of “seven inch” granite, that is, granite sunk seven inches in the ground, will cover from two and three-quarters to three square yards, superficial measure, or nine feet per yard. The cost, labour included, is, therefore, from 9_s._ to 12_s._ the square yard. This appears very costly; but in some of the more quiet streets, such as those in the immediate neighbourhood of Golden and Fitzroy-squares, a good granite pavement will endure for 20 years, requiring little repair. In other streets, such as Cheapside, for instance, it lasts from three to four years, without repavement being necessary, supposing the best construction has been originally adopted.

For macadamized streets, where there is a traffic like that of Tottenham Court-road, three layers of small broken granite a year are necessary; the cost of this repavement being about 2_s._ 6_d._ a yard superficial measure. The repairs and relayings on macadamized roads of regular traffic range from 4_s._ to 6_s._ 6_d._ yearly, the square yard.

The wood pavement, which endures, with a trifling outlay for repairs, for about three years, costs, on an average, 11_s._ the square yard.

The concrete used as a foundation in this street-construction costs 4_s._ 6_d._ a cube yard, or 27 feet, by which admeasurement it is always calculated. A cube yard of Thames ballast weighs about 1-1/4 ton.

The average cost of street-building, new, taking an average breadth, or about ten yards, from footpath to footpath, is then--

Per Mile. £. s. d. Granite built 96 0 0 Macadamized 44 0 0 Wood 88 0 0

Or, as a total,

400 miles of granite paved streets at £96 per mile 38,400 0 0 1350 macadamized ditto, at £44 per mile 59,400 0 0 5 wood ditto, at £88 per mile 440 0 0 ---------------- 98,240 0 0

This, then (about £100,000), is the original cost of the roads of the metropolis.

The cost of repairs, &c., annually, is shown by the amount of the paving rate, which may be taken as an average.

£ s. d. 400 miles of granite, at 20_s._ per mile 400 0 0 1350 macadamized ditto, at £13 4_s._ per mile 17,820 0 0 5 wood[13] ditto, at 20_s._ per mile 5 0 0 ---------------- Total 18,225 0 0

According to a “General Survey of the Metropolitan Highways,” by Mr. Thomas Hughes, the principal roads leading out of London are:--

1. The Cambridge Road, from Shoreditch through Kingsland.

2. The Epping and Chelmsford Roads, from Whitechapel, through Bow and Stratford.

3. The Barking Road, along the Commercial Road past Limehouse.

4. The Dover Road, from the Elephant and Castle, across Blackheath.

5. The Brighton Roads, (a) through Croydon, (b) through Sutton.

6. The Guildford Road, along the Westminster Road through Battersea and Wandsworth.

7. The Staines, or Great Western Road, from Knightsbridge through Brentford.

8. The Amersham and Aylesbury Road, along the Harrow Road, and through Harrow-on-the-Hill.

9. The St. Alban’s Road, along the Edgeware Road through Elstree.

10. The Oxford Road, from Bayswater through Ealing.

11. The Great Holyhead Road. } From Islington, by and through Barnet. 12. The Great North Road.

As to the amount of resistance to traction offered by different kinds of pavement, or the same pavement under different circumstances, the following are the general results of the experiments made by M. Morin, at the expense of the French Government:--

1st. The traction is directly proportional to the load, and inversely proportional to the diameter of the wheel.

2nd. Upon a paved, or hard macadamized road, the resistance is independent of the width of the tire, when it exceeds from three to four inches.

3rd. At a walking pace the traction is the same, under the same circumstances, for carriages with springs and without them.

4th. Upon hard macadamized, and upon paved roads, the traction increases with the velocity: the increments of traction being directly proportional to the increments of velocity above the velocity 3·28 feet per second, or about 2-1/4 miles per hour. The equal increment of traction thus due to each equal increment of velocity is less as the road is more smooth, and the carriage less rigid or better hung.

5th. Upon soft roads of earth, or sand, or turf, or roads fresh and thickly gravelled, the traction is independent of the velocity.

6th. Upon a well-made and compact pavement of hewn stones, the traction at a walking pace is not more than three-fourths of that upon the best macadamized roads under similar circumstances; at a trotting pace it is equal to it.

7th. The destruction of the road is in all cases greater, as the diameters of the wheels are less, and it is greater in carriages without than with springs.

In Sir H. Parnell’s book on roads, p. 73, we are told that Sir John Macneill, by means of an instrument invented by himself for measuring the tractive force required on different kinds of road, obtained the following general results as to the power requisite to move a ton weight under ordinary circumstances, at a very low velocity.

-------------------------------------------+------------------ | Force, in Description of Road. | pounds, required | to move a ton. -------------------------------------------+------------------ On a well-made pavement | 33 | On a road made with six inches of } | broken stone of great hardness, } | laid either on a foundation of large } | 46 stones, set in the form of a pavement, } | or upon a bottoming of concrete } | | On an old flint road, or a road made } | with a thick coating of broken } | 65 stone, laid on earth } | | On a road made with a thick coating } | of gravel, laid on earth } | 147 -------------------------------------------+------------------

In the same work the relative degrees of resistance to traction on the several kinds of roads are thus expressed:--

On a timber surface 2 On a paved road 2 On a well-made broken stone road, in a dry clean state 5 On a well-made broken stone road, covered with dust 8 On a well-made broken stone road, wet and muddy 10 On a gravel or flint road, in a dry clean state 13 On a gravel or flint road, in a wet muddy state 32

OF THE TRAFFIC OF LONDON.

I have shown (at p. 159, vol. ii.) that the number of miles of streets included in the Inner District of the Metropolitan Police is 1750.

Mr. Peter Cunningham, in his excellent “Handbook of Modern London,” tells us that “the streets of the Metropolis, if put together, would measure 3000 miles in length;” but he does not inform us what limits he assigns to the said metropolis; it would seem, however, that he refers to the Outer Police District: and in another place he cites the following as the extent of some of the principal thoroughfares:--

New-road 5115 yds. long, or nearly 3 miles. Oxford-street 2304 „ „ 1-1/2 „ Regent-street 1730 „ „ 1 „ Piccadilly 1690 „ City-road 1690 „ Strand 1396 „

Of the two great lines of streets parallel to the river, the one extending along Oxford-street, Holborn, Cheapside, Cornhill, and Whitechapel to the Regent’s-canal, Mile-end, is, says Mr. McCulloch, “above six miles in length;” while that which stretches from Knightsbridge along Piccadilly, the Haymarket, Pall-mall East, the Strand, Fleet-street, Watling-street, Eastcheap, Tower-street, and so on by Ratcliffe-highway to the West India Docks, is, according to the same authority, about equal in length to the other. Mr. Weale asserts, as we have already seen, that the greatest length of street from east to west is about fourteen miles, and from north to south about thirteen miles. The number of streets in London is said to be 10,000, though upon what authority the statement is made, and within what compass it is meant to be applied, I have not been able to ascertain. It is calculated, however, that there are 1900 miles of gas “mains” laid down in London and the suburbs; so that adopting the estimate of the Commissioners of Police, or 1760 miles of streets, within an area of about 90 square miles, we cannot go far wrong.

Now, as to the amount of traffic that takes place daily over this vast extent of paved road, it is almost impossible to predicate anything definitely. As yet there are only a few crude facts existing in connection with the subject. All we know is, that the London streets are daily traversed by 1500 omnibuses--such was the number of drivers licensed by the Metropolitan Commissioners in 1850--and about 3000 cabs--the number of drivers licensed in 1850 was 5000, but many “cabs” have a day and night driver as well, and the Return from the Stamp and Tax Office cited below, represents the number of licensed cabriolets, in 1849, at 2846: besides these public conveyances, there are the private carriages and carts, so that the metropolitan vehicles may be said to employ altogether upwards of 20,000 horses.

In the Morning Chronicle I said, when treating of the London omnibus-drivers and conductors:--“The average journey, as regards the distance travelled by each omnibus, is six miles, and that distance is, in some cases, travelled twelve times a day, or as it is called, ‘six there and six back.’ Some omnibuses perform the journey only ten times a day, and some, but a minority, a less number of times. Now, taking the average distance travelled by each omnibus at between 45 and 50 miles a day--and this, I am assured, on the best authority, is within the mark, while 60 miles a day might exceed it--and computing the omnibuses running daily at 1500, we find ‘a travel,’ as it was worded to me, of upwards of 70,000 miles daily, or a yearly ‘travel’ of more than 25,000,000 miles; an extent which is upwards of a thousand times more than the circumference of the earth; and that this estimate in no way exceeds the truth is proved by the sum annually paid to the Excise for ‘mileage,’ which amounts on an average to 9_l._ each ’bus’ per month, or collectively to 162,000_l._ per annum, and this, at 1-1/2_d._ per mile (the rate of duty charged), gives 25,920,000 miles as the aggregate distance travelled by the entire number of omnibuses every year through the London streets.”

The distance travelled by the London cabs may be estimated as follows:--Each driver may be said to receive on an average 10_s._ a day all the year through. Now, the number of licences prove that there are 5000 cab-drivers in London, and as each of these must travel at the least ten miles in order to obtain the daily 10_s._, we may safely assert that the whole 5000 go over 50,000 miles of ground a day, or, in round numbers, 18,250,000 miles in the course of the year.

According to a return obtained by Mr. Charles Cochrane from the Stamp and Tax Office, Somerset House, there were in the metropolis, in 1849-50, the following number of horses:--

Private carriage, job, and cart horses (in London) 3,683 Ditto (in Westminster) 6,339 Cabriolets licensed 2846 (having two horses each) 5,692 Omnibuses licensed 1350 (four horses each) 5,500 ------ Total number of horses in the metropolis 21,214 ------

I am assured, by persons well acquainted with the omnibus trade, that the number of omnibus horses here cited is far too low--as many proprietors employ ten horses to each “bus,” and none less than six. Hence we may fairly assume that there are at the least 25,000 horses at work every day in the streets of London. Besides the horses above mentioned, it is estimated that the number daily coming to the metropolis from the surrounding parts is 3000; and calculating that each of the 25,000, which may be said to be at work out of the entire number, travels eight miles a day, the aggregate length of ground gone over by the whole would amount to 200,000 miles per diem, or about 70,000,000 miles throughout the year. There are, as we have seen, upwards of 1750 miles of streets in London. It follows, therefore, that each piece of pavement would be traversed no less than 40,000 times per annum, or upwards of a hundred times a day, by some horse or vehicle.

As I said before, the facts that have been collected concerning the absolute traffic of the several parts of London are of the most meagre description. The only observations of any character that have been made upon the subject are--as far as my knowledge goes--those of M. D’Arcey, which are contained in a French report upon the roads of London, as compared with those of Paris.

This gentleman, speaking of the relative number of vehicles passing and repassing over certain parts of the two capitals, says:--“The Boulevards of Paris are the parts where the greatest traffic takes place. On the Boulevard des Capucins there pass, every 24 hours, 9070 horses drawing carriages; on the Boulevard des Italiens, 10,750; Boulevard Poissonière, 7720; Boulevard St. Denis, 9609; Boulevard des Filles du Calvaire, 5856: general average of the above, 8600. Rue du Faubourg St. Antoine, 4300; Avenue des Champs Elysées, 8959. At London, in Pall Mall, opposite Her Majesty’s Theatre, there pass at least 800 carriages every hour. On London-bridge the number of vehicles passing and repassing is not less than 13,000 every hour. On Westminster-bridge the annual traffic amounts to 8,000,000 horses at the least. By this it will be seen that the traffic in Paris does not amount to one-half of what it is in the streets of London.”

OF THE DUST AND DIRT OF THE STREETS OF LONDON.

We have merely to reflect upon the vast amount of traffic just shown to be daily going on throughout London--to think of the 70,000,000 miles of journey through the metropolis annually performed by the entire vehicles (which is more than two-thirds the distance from the earth to the sun)--to bear in mind that each part of London is on the average gone over and over again 40,000 times in the course of the year, and some parts as many as 13,000 times in a day--and that every horse and vehicle by which the streets are traversed are furnished, the one with four iron-bound hoofs, and the other with iron-bound wheels--to have an imperfect idea of the enormous weights and friction continually operating upon the surface of the streets--as well as the amount of grinding and pulverising, and wear and tear, that must be perpetually taking place in the paving-stones and macadamized roads of London; and thus we may be able to form some mental estimate as to the quantity of dust and dirt annually produced by these means alone.

But the table in pp. 186-7, which has been collected at great trouble, will give us still more accurate notions on the subject. It is not given as perfect, but as being the best information, in the absence of positive returns, that was procurable even from the best informed.

Here, then, we have an aggregate total of dust collected from the principal parts of the metropolis amounting to no less than 141,466 loads. The value of this refuse is said to be as much as 21,221_l._ 8_s._, but of this and more I shall speak hereafter. At present I merely seek to give the reader a general notion upon the matter. I wish to show him, before treating of the labourers engaged in the scavenging of the London streets, the amount of work they have to do.

A TABLE SHOWING THE SEVERAL DIVISIONS OF THE METROPOLIS CLEANSED BY THE SCAVENGERS AND PARISH MEN, THE NAMES OF THE CONTRACTORS, THE NUMBER OF MEN AND CARTS EMPLOYED IN COLLECTING, THE QUANTITY OF DUST AND MUD COLLECTED DAILY IN THE STREETS IN DRY AND WET WEATHER, WITH THE ANNUAL VALUE OF THE WHOLE.

---------------------------+-----------------+-----------------+-------------------+-----------------+------------+-----------------+ | | Number of Men | Number of Carts | | Number of | | | | employed | used daily in | Number of loads | Cart-Loads | Annual value | | | at scavenging. | scavenging. |collected daily. | annually | of Dirt | Divisions and Districts. | Names of +--------+--------+--------+----------+--------+--------+ collected | collected by | | Contractors. | In dry | In wet | In dry | In wet | In dry |In wet | by the | Scavengers. | | |weather.|weather.|weather.| weather. |weather.|weather.| Scavengers.| | ---------------------------+-----------------+--------+--------+--------+----------+--------+--------+------------+-----------------+ | | | | | | | | | £ s. d.| Kensington |Parish | 3 | 5 | 1 | 2 | 3 | 5 | 1252 | 187 16 0 | Chelsea |Ditto | 3 | 5 | 1 | 2 | 4 | 6 | 1565 | 234 15 0 | Ditto (Hans’ Town) |Mr. C. Humphries | 3 | 4 | 1 | 1 | 3 | 5 | 1252 | 187 16 0 | St. George’s, Pimlico |Mr. Redding | 2 | 4 | 1 | 2 | 5 | 7 | 1878 | 281 14 0 | Ditto, Hanover Square |Parish | 3 | 5 | 1 | 1 | 1-1/2 | 2-1/2 | 626 | 93 18 0 | St. Margaret’s, Westminster|Ditto | 5 | 7 | 2 | 3 | 8 | 10 | 2817 | 422 11 0 | St. John’s, ditto |Mr. Hearne | 5 | 7 | 1 | 2 | 8 | 10 | 2817 | 422 11 0 | St. Martin’s |Machine | 6 | 9 | 4 | 4 | 4 | 6 | 1565 | 234 15 0 | Hungerford-market |Mr. J. Gore | 2 | 2 | 1 | 1 | 1 | 3 | 626 | 93 18 0 | St. James’s, Westminster |Parish | 2 | 4 | 1 | 2 | 5 | 7 | 1878 | 281 14 0 | Piccadilly |Parish and | | | | | | | | | Machine | 20 | 28 | 2 | 2 | 8 | 12 | 3130 | 469 10 0 | Regent-street and Pall-mall|Ditto, ditto | 8 | 12 | 2 | 2 | 4 | 6 | 1565 | 234 15 0 | St. Ann’s, Soho |Ditto | 3 | 4 | 1 | 2 | 4 | 6 | 1565 | 234 15 0 | Woods and Forests |Machine | 2 | 4 | 1 | 2 | 5 | 7 | 1878 | 281 14 0 | Paddington |Parish | 4 | 6 | 1 | 2 | 6 | 8 | 2191 | 328 13 0 | Marylebone (Five Districts)|Ditto | 20 | 35 | 3 | 4 | 15 | 25 | 6260 | 939 0 0 | Portland-market |Mr. Tame | 3 | 5 | 1 | 1 | 2 | 4 | 939 | 140 17 0 | Hampstead |Parish | 2 | 4 | 1 | 1 | 2 | 4 | 939 | 140 17 0 | Highgate |Ditto | 2 | 4 | 1 | 1 | 2 | 4 | 939 | 140 17 0 | St. Pancras, South-west | | | | | | | | | | Division |Mr. Stapleton | 2 | 4 | 1 | 2 | 4 | 6 | 1565 | 234 15 0 | Somers-town |Mr. Starkey | 3 | 5 | 1 | 2 | 7 | 9 | 2504 | 375 12 0 | Southampton Estate |Mr. C. Starkey | 4 | 5 | 1 | 1 | 3 | 5 | 1252 | 187 16 0 | Bedford ditto |Mr. J. Gore | 2 | 2 | 1 | 1 | 1 | 3 | 626 | 93 18 0 | Brewers’ ditto |Mr. C. Starkey | 2 | 2 | 1 | 1 | 1 | 3 | 626 | 93 18 0 | Calthorpe ditto |Ditto | 2 | 2 | 1 | 1 | 1 | 3 | 626 | 93 18 0 | Cromer ditto |Ditto | 2 | 2 | 1 | 1 | 1 | 3 | 626 | 93 18 0 | Doughty ditto |Mr. Martin | 2 | 2 | 1 | 1 | 1 | 3 | 626 | 93 18 0 | Foundling ditto |Ditto | 2 | 2 | 1 | 1 | 1 | 3 | 626 | 93 18 0 | Harrison ditto |Ditto | 2 | 2 | 1 | 1 | 1 | 3 | 626 | 93 18 0 | Skinners’ ditto |Mr. H. North | 2 | 2 | 1 | 1 | 1 | 3 | 626 | 93 18 0 | Union ditto |Mr. J. Gore | 2 | 2 | 1 | 1 | 1 | 3 | 626 | 93 18 0 | Islington District |Parish | 6 | 8 | 1 | 1 | 3 | 5 | 1252 | 187 16 0 | Battle-bridge |Mr. Starkey | 4 | 6 | 1 | 2 | 5 | 7 | 1878 | 281 14 0 | Hackney |Parish | 5 | 7 | 1 | 1 | 2 | 4 | 939 | 140 17 0 | St. Giles-in-the-Fields and| | | | | | | | | | St. George, Bloomsbury |Mr. Redding | 7 | 9 | 2 | 3 | 6 | 10 | 2504 | 375 12 0 | St. Mary-le-Strand |Mr. J. Gore | 2 | 5 | 1 | 2 | 4 | 6 | 1565 | 234 15 0 | Savoy |Ditto | 2 | 3 | 1 | 1 | 1 | 3 | 626 | 93 18 0 | St. Clement Danes |Parish | 5 | 7 | 3 |3 waggons.| 2 | 6 | 1252 | 187 16 0 | St. Paul’s, Covent Garden |Ditto | 3 | 5 | 1 |2 carts. | 3 | 5 | 1252 | 187 16 0 | Covent Garden-market |Mr. Stapleton | 5 | 7 | 5 | 6 | 9 | 12 | 3130 | 469 10 0 | Holborn |Parish | 6 | 9 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 6 | 1565 | 234 15 0 | St. Sepulchre’s |Mr. J. Gore | 3 | 4 | 1 | 1 | 2 | 4 | 939 | 140 17 0 | Hatton-garden |Messrs. Pratt | | | | | | | | | | and Sewell | 2 | 2 | 1 | 1 | 1 | 3 | 626 | 93 18 0 | St. James’s, Clerkenwell |Mr. Dodd | 5 | 7 | 2 | 3 | 8 | 10 | 2817 | 422 11 0 | St. John’s, ditto |Mr. J. Gould | 5 | 7 | 3 | 3 | 6 | 8 | 2191 | 328 13 0 | St. Luke’s |Mr. Dodd | 7 | 10 | 4 | 6 | 8 | 10 | 2817 | 422 11 0 | Goswell-street |Mr. Redding | 3 | 4 | 1 | 2 | 4 | 6 | 1565 | 234 15 0 | Liberty of the Rolls |Messrs. Pratt | | | | | | | | | | and Sewell | 2 | 2 | 1 | 1 | 1 | 3 | 626 | 93 18 0 | Blackfriars Bridge |Mr. Jenkins | 3 | 5 | 1 | 1 | 4 | 6 | 1565 | 234 15 0 | City Division, Eastern, A |Mr. G. Sinnott | 10 | 16 | 4 | 6 | 12 | 16 | 4382 | 657 6 0 | Ditto, North Middle, B |Mr. T. Rooke | 9 | 13 | 4 | 6 | 8 | 12 | 3130 | 469 10 0 | Ditto, Western, C |Mr. C. Redding | 12 | 14 | 4 | 6 | 14 | 18 | 5008 | 751 4 0 | Ditto, South Middle, D |Mr. J. Gould | 10 | 12 | 3 | 4 | 9 | 11 | 3130 | 469 10 0 | Shoreditch |Mr. Dodd | 6 | 9 | 2 | 4 | 8 | 12 | 3130 | 469 10 0 | Norton Folgate |Mr. J. Gould | 3 | 5 | 1 | 2 | 4 | 6 | 1565 | 234 15 0 | Finsbury Square District |Ditto | 3 | 4 | 1 | 2 | 6 | 8 | 2191 | 328 13 0 | St. Botolph |Mr. Westley | 2 | 4 | 2 | 2 | 4 | 6 | 1565 | 234 15 0 | Spitalfields District |Mr. Newman | 3 | 6 | 1 | 2 | 3 | 5 | 1252 | 187 16 0 | Spitalfields-market |Mr. Parsons | 5 | 7 | 3 | 4 | 4 | 6 | 1565 | 234 15 0 | Bethnal-green |Mr. E. Newman | 4 | 6 | 3 | 4 | 8 | 10 | 2817 | 422 11 0 | Whitechapel |Mr. Parsons | 3 | 5 | 2 | 3 | 6 | 8 | 2191 | 328 13 0 | Commercial-road |Parish | 4 | 6 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 6 | 1565 | 234 15 0 | Mile-end |Mr. Newman | 3 | 5 | 1 | 2 | 3 | 5 | 1252 | 187 16 0 | Ditto, New-town |Mr. Parsons | 3 | 6 | 1 | 1 | 3 | 5 | 1252 | 187 16 0 | St. John’s, Wapping |Mr. Westley | 2 | 4 | 1 | 2 | 2 | 4 | 939 | 140 17 0 | Shadwell |Ditto | 2 | 4 | 1 | 2 | 3 | 5 | 1252 | 187 16 0 | St. George’s-in-the-East |Ditto | 4 | 6 | 2 | 3 | 6 | 8 | 2191 | 328 13 0 | Stepney |Mr. E. Newman | 4 | 6 | 1 | 2 | 4 | 6 | 1565 | 234 15 0 | Poplar |Parish | 2 | 4 | 1 | 1 | 2 | 4 | 939 | 140 17 0 | East Borough |Mr. Redding | 4 | 6 | 2 | 3 | 3 | 5 | 1252 | 187 16 0 | West ditto |Ditto | 3 | 4 | 2 | 2 | 2 | 4 | 939 | 140 17 0 | Borough Clink |Mr. W. Sinnott | 3 | 5 | 1 | 2 | 2 | 4 | 939 | 140 17 0 | Bermondsey |Parish | 4 | 6 | 2 | 3 | 9 | 15 | 3576 | 563 18 0 | Newington |Ditto | 4 | 6 | 1 | 2 | 3 | 5 | 1252 | 187 16 0 | Lambeth |Ditto | 12 | 16 | 2 | 3 | 8 | 10 | 2817 | 422 11 0 | Ditto (Christchurch) |Ditto | 14 | 20 | 2 | 3 | 6 | 9 | 2191 | 328 13 0 | Wandsworth |Ditto | 2 | 4 | 1 | 1 | 1 | 3 | 626 | 93 18 0 | Camberwell and Walworth |Ditto | 4 | 6 | 1 | 2 | 5 | 7 | 1878 | 281 14 0 | Rotherhithe |Ditto | 3 | 5 | 1 | 2 | 3 | 5 | 1252 | 187 16 0 | Greenwich |Ditto | 3 | 5 | 1 | 2 | 4 | 6 | 1565 | 234 15 0 | Deptford |Ditto | 3 | 4 | 1 | 2 | 6 | 8 | 2191 | 328 13 0 | Woolwich |Ditto | 3 | 5 | 1 | 2 | 3 | 5 | 1252 | 187 16 0 | Lewisham |Ditto | 2 | 4 | 1 | 1 | 1 | 3 | 626 | 93 18 0 | +-----------------+--------+--------+--------+----------+--------+--------+------------+-----------------+ |Scavengers’ Total| 358 | 531 | 130 | 183 |355-1/2 |548-1/2 | 140,983 |21,147 9 0 | ---------------------------+-----------------+--------+--------+--------+----------+--------+--------+------------+-----------------+ Average total 444-1/2 men. 156-1/2 carts. 452 loads daily. 140,983 loads yearly. £21,147 9 0 | Orderlies 546 ditto. 9 ditto. 2,817 ditto. 352 2 6 | --- ------- --- ------- ----------- | Gross total 990-1/2 men. 156-1/2 461 loads daily. 143,800 loads yearly. £21,499 11 6 | ------- --- ------- -----------|

OF THE STREET-DUST OF LONDON, AND THE LOSS AND INJURY OCCASIONED BY IT.

The daily and nightly grinding of thousands of wheels, the iron friction of so many horses’ hoofs, the evacuations of horses and cattle, and the ceaseless motion of pedestrians, all decomposing the substance of our streets and roads, give rise to many distinct kinds of street-dirt. These are severally known as

(1) Dust.

(2) Horse-dung and cattle-manure.

(3) Mud, when mixed with water and with general refuse, such as the remains of fruit and other things thrown into the street and swept together.

(4) Surface-water when mixed with street-sewage.

These productions I shall treat severally, and first of the street-dust.

The “detritus” of the streets of London assumes many forms, and is known by many names, according as it is combined with more or less water.

1st. In a perfectly dry state, so that the particles no longer exist either in a state of cohesion or aggregation, but are minutely divided and distinct, it is known by the name of “dust.”

2nd. When in combination with a small quantity of water, so that it assumes the consistency of a pap, the particles being neither free to move nor yet able to resist pressure, the detritus is known by the name of “mac mud,” or simply “mud,” according as it proceeds from a macadamized or stone paved road.

3rd. When in combination with a greater quantity of water, so that it is rendered almost liquid, it is known as “slop-dirt.”

4th. When in combination with a still greater quantity of water, so that it is capable of running off into the sewers, it is known by the name of “street surface-water.”

The mud of the streets of London is then merely the dust or detritus of the granite of which they are composed, agglutinated either with rain or the water from the watering-carts. Granite consists of silex, felspar, and mica. Silex is sand, while felspar and mica are also silex in combination with alumina (clay), and either potash or magnesia. Hence it would appear to be owing to the affinity of the alumina or clay for moisture, as well as the property of silex to “gelatinize” with water under certain conditions, that the particles of dry dust derive their property of agglutinating, when wetted, and so forming what is termed “mud”--either “mac,” or simple mud, according, as I said before, to the nature of the paving on which it is formed.

By dust the street-cleansers mean the collection of every kind of refuse in the dust-bins; but I here speak, of course, of the fine particles of earthy matter produced by the attrition of our roads when in a dry state. Street-dust is, more properly speaking, mud deprived of its moisture by evaporation. Miss Landon (L. E. L.) used to describe the London dust as “mud in high spirits,” and perhaps no figure of speech could convey a better notion of its character.

In some parts of the suburbs on windy days London is a perfect dust-mill, and although the dust may be allayed by the agency of the water-carts (by which means it is again converted into “mac,” or mud), it is not often thoroughly allayed, and is a source of considerable loss, labour, and annoyance. Street-dust is not collected for any useful purpose, so that as there is no return to be balanced against its prejudicial effects it remains only to calculate the quantity of it annually produced, and thus to arrive at the extent of the mischief.

Street-dust is disintegrated granite, that is, pulverized quartz and felspar, felspar being principally composed of alumina or clay, and quartz silex or sand; it is the result of the attrition, or in a word it is the detritus, of the stones used in pavements and in macadamization; it is further composed of the pulverization of all horse and cattle-dung, and of the almost imperceptible, but still, I am assured, existent powder which arises from the friction of the wooden pavement even when kept moist. In the roads of the nearest suburbs, even around such places as the Regent’s-park, at many seasons this dust is produced largely, so that very often an open window for the enjoyment of fresh air is one for the intrusion of fresh dust. This may be less the case in the busier and more frequently-watered thoroughfares, but even there the annoyance is great.

I find in the “Reports” in which this subject is mentioned but little said concerning the influence of dust upon the public health. Dr. Arnott, however, is very explicit on the subject. “It is,” says he, “scarcely conceivable that the immense quantities of granite dust, pounded by one or two hundred thousand pairs of wheels (!) working on macadamized streets, should not greatly injure the public health. In houses bordering such streets or roads it is found that, notwithstanding the practice of watering, the furniture is often covered with dust, even more than once in the day, so that writing on it with the finger becomes legible, and the lungs and air tubes of the inhabitants, with a moist lining to detain the dust, are constantly pumping in the same atmosphere. The passengers by a stage-coach in dry weather, when the wind is moving with them so as to keep them enveloped in the cloud of dust raised by the horses’ feet and the wheels of the coach, have their clothes soon saturated to whiteness, and their lungs are charged in a corresponding degree. A gentleman who rode only 20 miles in this way had afterwards to cough and expectorate for ten days to clear his chest again.”

In order that the deleteriousness to health incident to the inhalation of these fine and offensive particles may be the better estimated, I may add, that in every 24 hours an adult breathes 36 hogsheads of air; and Mr. Erasmus Wilson, in his admirable work on the Skin, has the following passage concerning the extent of surface presented by the lungs:--

“The lungs receive the atmospheric air through the windpipe. At the root of the neck the windpipe, or trachea, divides into two branches, called bronchi, and each bronchus, upon entering its respective lung, divides into an infinity of small tubes; the latter terminate in small pouches, called air-cells, and a number of these little air-cells communicate together at the extremity of each small tube. The number of air-cells in the two lungs has been estimated at 1,744,000,000, and the extent of the skin which lines the cells and tubes together at 1500 square feet. This calculation of the number of air-cells, and the extent of the lining membrane, rests, I believe, on the authority of Dr. Addison of Malvern.”

What is the amount of atmospherical granite, dung, and refuse-dust received in a given period into the human lungs, has never, I am informed, been ascertained even by approximation; but according to the above facts it must be something fearful to contemplate.

After this brief recital of what is known concerning the sanitary part of the question, I proceed to consider the damage and loss occasioned by street-dust. In no one respect, perhaps, can this be ascertained with perfect precision, but still even a rough approximation to the extent of the evil is of value, as giving us more definite ideas on the subject.

It will be seen, on reference to the preceding table, that the quantity of street-refuse collected in dry weather throughout the metropolis is between 300 and 400 cart-loads daily, or upwards of 100,000 cart-loads, the greater proportion of which may be termed street-dust.

The damage occasioned by the street-dust arises from its penetrating, before removal, the atmosphere both without and within our houses, and consists in the soiling of wearing apparel, the injury of the stock-in-trade of shopkeepers, and of household furniture.

Washing is, of course, dependent upon the duration of time in which it is proper, in the estimation of the several classes of society, to retain wearing apparel upon the person, on the bed or the table, without what is termed a “change;” and this duration of time with thousands of both men and women is often determined by the presence or absence of dirt on the garment; and not arbitrarily, as among wealthier people, with whom a clean shirt every morning, and a clean table-cloth every one, two, three, or more days, as may happen, are regarded as things of course, no matter what may be the state of the displaced linen.

The Board of Health, in one of their Reports, speak very decisively and definitely on this subject. “Common observation of the rate at which the skin, linen, and clothes (not to speak of paper, books, prints, and furniture) become dirty in the metropolis,” say they, “as compared with the time that elapses before a proportionate amount of deterioration and uncleanliness is communicated in the rural districts, will warrant the estimate, that full one-half the expense of washing to maintain a passable degree of cleanliness, is rendered necessary by the excess of smoke generated in open fires, and the excess of dust arising from the imperfect scavenging of the roads and streets. Persons engaged in washing linen on a large scale, state that it is dirtied in the crowded parts of the metropolis in one-third the time in which the like degree of uncleanliness would be produced in a rural district; but all attest the fact, that linen is more rapidly destroyed by washing than by the wear on the person. The expense of the more rapid destruction of linen must be added to the extra expense of washing. These expenses and inconveniences, the greater portion of which are due to local maladministration, occasion an extra expenditure of upwards of two to three millions per annum--exclusive of the injury done to the general health and the medical and other expenses consequent thereon.”

Here, then, we find the evil effects of the imperfect scavenging of the metropolis estimated at between two and three millions sterling per annum, and this in the mere matter of extra washing and its necessary concomitant extra wear and tear of clothes.

As this estimate, however, appears to me to exaggerate the evil beyond all due bounds, I will proceed to adduce a few facts, bearing upon the point: and first as to the expense of washing.

In order to ascertain as accurately as possible, the actual washing expenses of labouring men and their families whose washing was done at home, Mr. John Bullar, the Honorary Secretary to the Association for the Promotion of Baths and Washhouses, tells us in a Report presented to Parliament, “that inquiries were made of several hundred families of labouring men, and it was found that, taking the wife’s labour as worth 5s. a week! the total cost of washing at home, for a man and wife and four children, averaged very closely on 2_s._ 6_d._ a week, = 5_d._ a head. The cost of coals, soda, soap, starch, blue, and sometimes water, was rather less than one-third of the amount. The time occupied was rarely less than two days, and more often extended into a third day, so that the value of the labour was rather more than two-thirds of the amount.

“The cost of washing to single men among the labouring classes, whose washing expenditure might be expected to be on a very low scale, such as hod-men and street-sweepers, was found to be 4-1/2_d._ a head.

“The cost of washing to very small tradesmen could not be safely estimated at much more than 6_d._ a head a week.

“It may, perhaps,” continues the Report, “be safe to reckon the weekly washing expenses of the poorer half of the inhabitants of the metropolis at not exceeding 6_d._ a head; but the expenditure for washing rapidly increases as the inquiry ascends into what are called the ‘middle classes.’

“The washing expenses of families in which servants are employed may be considered as double that of the servants’, and, therefore, as ranging from 1_s._ 6_d._ to 5_s._ a week a head.

“There is considerable difficulty in ascertaining with any exactness the washing expenditure of private families, but the conclusion is that, taking the whole population, the washing bills of London are nearly 1_s._ a week a head, or 5,000,000_l._ a year.

“Of course,” adds Mr. Bullar, “I give this as but a rough estimate, and many exceptions may easily be taken to it; but I feel pretty confident that it is not very far from the truth.”

As I before stated, I am in no way disposed to go to the extent of the calculation here made. It appears to me that in parliamentary investigations by the agency of select committees, or by gentlemen appointed to report on any subject, there is an aptitude to deal with the whole body of the people as if they were earning the wages of well and regularly-employed labourers, or even mechanics. To suppose that the starving ballast-heaver, the victim of a vicious truck system, which condemns him to poverty and drunkenness, or the sweep, or the dustman, or the street-seller--all very numerous classes--expends 1_s._ a week in his washing, is far beyond the fact. Still less is expended in the washing of these people’s children. Even the well-conducted artizan, with two clean shirts a week (costing him 6_d._), with the washing of stockings, &c. (costing 1_d._ or 2_d._), does not expend 1_s._ a week; so that, though the washing bills of many ladies and of some gentlemen may average 10_s._ weekly, if we consider how few are rich and how many poor, the extra payment seems insufficient to make up the average of the weekly shilling for the washing of all classes.

A prosperous and respectable master greengrocer, who was what may be called “particular” in his dress, as he had been a gentleman’s servant, and was now in the habit of waiting upon the wealthy persons in his neighbourhood, told me that the following was the average of his washing bill. He was a bachelor; all his washing was put out, and he considered his expenditure far above the average of his class, as many used no night-shirt, but slept in the shirts they wore during the day, and paid only 3_d._, and even less, per shirt to their washer-woman, and perhaps, and more especially in winter, made one shirt last the week.

Two shirts (per week) 7_d._ Stockings 1 Night-shirt (worn two weeks generally, average per week) 0-3/4 Sheets, blankets, and other household linens or woollens 2 Handkerchiefs 0-1/4 ------ 11_d._

My informant was satisfied that he had put his expenditure at the highest. I also ascertained that an industrious wife, who was able to attend to her household matters, could wash the clothes of a small tradesman’s family,--for a man, his wife, and four small children,--“well,” at the following rate:--

1 lb. soap 4-1/2_d._ or 5_d._ Soda and starch 0-1/2 1/4 cwt. coals (extra) 3-1/2 ----- 8-1/2_d._

or less than 1-1/2_d._ per head.

In this calculation it will be seen the cheapest soap is reckoned, and that there is no allowance for the wife’s labour. When I pointed out the latter circumstance, my informant said: “I look on it that the washing labour is part of the wife’s keep, or what she gives in return for it; and that as she’d have to be kept if she didn’t do it, why there shouldn’t be no mention of it. If she was working for others it would be quite different, but washing is a family matter; that’s my way of looking at it. Coke, too, is often used instead of coals; besides, a bit of bacon, or potatoes, or the tea-kettle, will have to be boiled, and that’s managed along with the hot water for the suds, and would have to be done anyhow, especially in winter.”

One decent woman, who had five children, “all under eight,” told me she often sat up half, and sometimes the whole night to wash, when busy other ways. She was not in poverty, for she earned “a good bit” in going out to cook, and her husband was employed by a pork-butcher.

I may further add, that a great many single men wash their own clothes. Many of the street-sellers in particular do this; so do such of the poor as live in their own rooms, and occasionally the dwellers in the low lodging-houses. One street-seller of ham sandwiches, whose aprons, sleeves, and tray-cloth, were remarkably white, told me that he washed them himself, as well as his shirt, &c., and that it was the common practice with his class. This washing--his aprons, tray-cloths, shirts, and stockings included--cost him, every three weeks, 4-1/4_d._ or 5_d._ for 1 lb. of soap, which is less than 1-1/2_d._ a week. Among such people it is considered that the washing of a shirt is, as they say, “a penn’orth of soap, and the stockings in,” meaning that a penny outlay is sufficient to wash for both.

But not only does Mr. Bullar’s estimate exceed the truth as regards the cost of washing among the poorer classes, but it also errs in the proportion they are said to bear to the other ranks of society. That gentleman speaks of “the poorer half of the inhabitants of the metropolis,” as if the rich and poor were equal in numbers! but with all deference, it will be found that the ratio between the well-to-do and the needy is as 1 to 2, that is to say, the property and income-tax returns teach us there are at least two persons with an income below 150_l._ per annum, to every one having an income above it. Hence, the population of London being, within a fraction, 2,400,000; the numbers of the metropolitan well-to-do and needy would be respectively 800,000 and 1,600,000, and, allowing the cost of the washing of the former to average 1_s._ per head (adults and children), and, the washing of the labouring classes to come to 2_d._ a head, young and old (the expense of the materials, when the work is done at home, average, it has been shown, about 1-1/2_d._ for each member of the family), we shall then have the following statement:--

Annual cost of washing for 800,000 people, at 1_s._ per head per week £2,080,000 Annual cost of washing for 1,600,000 people, at 2_d._ per head per week 693,333 ----------- Total cost of washing of metropolis £2,773,333

I am convinced, low as the estimate of 2_d._ a week may appear for all whose incomes are under 150_l._ a year, from many considerations, that the above computation is rather over than under the truth. As, for instance, Mr. Hawes has said concerning the consumption of soap in the metropolis,--“Careful inquiry has proved that the quantity used is much greater than that indicated by the Excise returns; but reducing the results obtained by inquiry in one uniform proportion, the quantity used by the labouring classes earning from 10_s._ to 30_s._ per week is 10 lbs. each per annum, including every member of the family. Dividing the population of the metropolis into three classes: (1) the wealthy; (2) the shopkeepers and tradesmen; (3) labourers and the poor, and allowing 15 lbs., 10 lbs., and 4 lbs. to each respectively, the consumption of the metropolis will be nearly 200 tons per week.” The cost of each ton of soap Mr. Hawes estimates at 45_l._

Professor Clarke, however, computes the metropolitan consumption of soap at 250 tons per week, and the cost per ton at 50_l._

According to the above estimates, the total quantity of soap used every year in the metropolis is 12,000 tons, and this, at 50_l._ per ton, comes to £600,000

Professor Clarke reckons the gross consumption of soda in the metropolis, at 250 tons per month, costing 10_l._ a ton; hence for the year the consumption will be 3000 tons, costing 30,000

The cost of water, according to the same authority, is 3_s._ 4_d._ per head per annum, and this, for the whole metropolis, amounts to 400,000

Estimating the cost of the coals used in heating the water to be equal to that of the soap, we have for the gross expense of fuel annually consumed in washing 600,000

There are 21,000 laundresses in London, and, calculating that the wages of these average 10_s._ a week each all the year round, the gross sum paid to them, would be in round numbers 550,000

Profit of employers, say 550,000

Add for sundries, as starch, &c. 50,000 ---------- Total cost of washing of metropolis £2,780,000

Hence it would appear, that viewed either by the individual expense of the great bulk of society, or else by the aggregate cost of the materials and labour used in cleansing the clothes of the people of London, the total sum annually expended in the washing of the metropolis may be estimated at the outside at two millions and three quarters sterling per annum, or about 1_l._ 3_s._ 4_d._ per head.

And yet, though the data for the calculation here given, as to the cost and quantity of the principal materials used in cleansing the clothes of London, are derived from the same Report as that in which the expense of the metropolitan washing is estimated at 5,000,000_l._ per annum, the Board of Health do not hesitate in that document to say that,--“Of the fairness of the estimate of the expense of washing to the higher and middle classes, and to the great bulk of the householders, and the better class of artizans, we entertain no doubt whatever. Whatsoever deductions, if any, may be made from the above estimate, it is, nevertheless, an under-estimate for maintaining, at the present expense of washing, a proper amount of cleanliness in linen.”

Proceeding, however, with the calculation as to the loss from the imperfect scavenging of the metropolis, we have the following results:--

LOSS FROM DUST AND DIRT IN THE STREETS OF THE METROPOLIS, OWING TO THE EXTRA WASHING ENTAILED THEREBY.

According to the Board of Health, taking the yearly amount of the washing of the metropolis at 5,000,000_l._, and assuming the washing to be doubled by street-dirt, the loss will be £2,500,000

Calculating the washing, however, for reasons above adduced, to be only 2,750,000_l._, and to be as much again as it might be under an improved system of scavenging, the loss will be 1,375,000

Or calculating, as a minimum, that the remediable loss is less than one-half, the cost is £1,000,000

Hence it would appear that the loss from dust and dirt is really enormous.

In a work entitled “Sanatory Progress,” being the Fifth Report of the National Philanthropic Association, I find a calculation as to the losses sustained from dust and dirt upon our clothes. Owing to the increased wear from daily brushing to remove the dust, and occasional scraping to remove the mud, the loss is estimated at from 3_l._ to 7_l._ per annum for each well-dressed man and woman, and 1_l._ for inferiorly-dressed persons, including their Sunday and holiday clothing.

I inquired of a West-end tailor, who previously to his establishment in business had himself been an operative, and had had experience both in town and country as to the wear of clothes, and I learned from him the following particulars.

With regard to the clothes of the wealthy classes, of those who could always command a carriage in bad weather, there are no means of judging as to the loss caused by bad scavengery.

My informant, however, obliged me with the following calculations, the results of his experience. His trade is what I may describe as a medium business, between the low slop and the high fashionable trades. The garments of which he spoke were those worn by clerks, shopmen, students, tradesmen, town-travellers, and others not engaged in menial or handicraft labour.

Altogether, and after consulting his books relative to town and country customers, my informant thought it might be easy to substantiate the following estimate as regards the duration and cost of clothes in town and country among the classes I have specified.

TABLE SHOWING THE COMPARATIVE COST OF CLOTHES WORN IN TOWN AND COUNTRY.

----------+--------------+----------------------+----------------------+------------- | | Town. | Country. | Garments. |Original cost.+---------+------------+---------+------------+Difference of | |Duration.|Annual cost.|Duration.|Annual cost.| cost. ----------+--------------+---------+------------+---------+------------+------------- | £ s. d. | Years. | £ s. d.| Years. | £ s. d.| £ s. d. Coat | 2 10 0 | 2 | 1 5 0 | 3 | 0 16 8 | 0 8 4 Waistcoat | 0 15 0 | 2-1/2 | 0 6 0 | 3 | 0 5 0 | 0 1 0 Trowsers | 1 5 0 | 1-1/4 | 1 0 0 | 2 | 0 12 6 | 0 7 6 ----------+--------------+---------+------------+---------+------------+------------- Total Suit| 4 10 0 | | 2 11 0 | | 1 14 2 | 0 16 10 ----------+--------------+---------+------------+---------+------------+-------------

Here, then, it appears that the annual outlay for clothes in town, by the classes I have specified, is about 2_l._ 11_s._; while the annual outlay in the country for the same garments is 1_l._ 14_s._ 2_d._; the difference of expense being 16_s._ 10_d._ per annum. I consulted another tailor on the subject, and his estimate was a trifle above that of my informant.

I should remark that the proportion thus adduced holds, whatever be the number of garments worn in the year, or in a series of years, for the calculation was made not as to individual garments, but as to the general wear, evinced by the average outlay, as shown in the tradesman’s books, of the same class of persons in town and country.

In the calculation given in the publication of the National Philanthropic Association, the loss on a well-dressed Londoner’s clothing, arising from excessive dust and dirt, is estimated at from 3_l._ to 7_l._ per annum. By the above table it will be seen that the clothes which cost 1_l._ 14_s._ 2_d._ per annum in the cleanliness of a country abode, cost 2_l._ 11_s._, or, within a fraction, half as much again, in the uncleanliness of a London atmosphere and roads. If, therefore, any London inhabitant, of the classes I have specified, expend four times 2_l._ 11_s._ in his clothes yearly, as many do, or 10_l._ 4_s._, he loses 3_l._ 5_s._ 4_d._, or 5_s._ 4_d._ more than the minimum mentioned in the Report alluded to.

Now estimating 2_l._ 10_s._ as the yearly tailor’s bill among the well-to-do (boys and men), and calculating that one-sixth of the metropolitan population (that is, half of the one-third who may be said to belong to the class having incomes above 150_l._ a year) spend this sum yearly in clothes, we have the following statement:--

AGGREGATE LOSS UPON CLOTHES WORN IN LONDON.

£ s. d.

400,000 persons living in London expend in clothing (at 2_l._ 10_s._ per annum) 1,000,000 0 0

400,000 persons living in better atmospheres in rural parts, and with the same stock of clothes, expend one-third less, or 666,666 13 4 ------------------ Difference 333,333 6 8

It would be pushing the inquiry to exceeding minuteness were I to enter into calculations as to the comparative expense of boots, hats, and ladies’ dresses worn in town and country; suffice it, that competent persons in each of the vestiary trades have been seen, and averages drawn for the accounts of their town and country customers.

All things, then, being duly considered, the following conclusion would seem to be warranted by the facts:--

Annual cost of clothes to 800,000 of the metropolitan population (those belonging to the class who have incomes above 150_l._ per annum) at 4_l._ per year each £3,200,000

Annual cost of clothes to 1,600,000 of the metropolitan population (those belonging to the class who have incomes below 150_l._ per annum), at 1_l._ per year each 1,600,000 ---------- £4,800,000

Annual cost of the same clothes if worn in the country 3,600,000 ---------- Extra expense annually entailed by dust and dirt of metropolis £1,200,000

In the above estimate I have included the cost of wear and tear of linen from extra washing when worn in London, and this has been stated on the authority of the Board of Health to be double that of linen worn in the country.

In connection with this subject I may cite the following curious calculation, taken from a Parliamentary Report, as to the cost of a working man’s new shirt, comprising four yards of strong calico.

Material.--Cotton at 6_d._ per lb. d. 1-1/4 lb., with loss thereupon 8·25

Manufacture,-- d. Spinning 2·25 Weaving 3·00 Profit ·25 ----- 5·50 ----- 13·75 Bleaching about 1·25 ----- 15·00

Grey (calico) 13·75_d._ + 9_d._ (making) = 1_s._ 10-3/4_d._ Bleached 15_d._ + 9_d._ „ = 2_s._

As regards the loss and damage occasioned by the injury to household furniture and decorations, and to stocks-in-trade, which is another important consideration connected with this subject, I find the following statement in the Report of the Philanthropic Institution:--“The loss by goods and furniture is incalculable: shopkeepers lose from 10_l._ to 150_l._ a-year by the spoiling of their goods for sale; dealers in provisions especially, who cannot expose them without being deteriorated in value, from the dust that is incessantly settling upon them. Nor is it much better with clothiers of all kinds:--Mr. Holmes, shawl merchant, in Regent-street, has stated that his losses from road-dust alone exceed 150_l._ per annum.”... “In a communication with Mr. Mivart, respecting the expenses of mud and road-dust to him, that gentleman stated that the rent of the four houses of which his hotel is composed, was 896_l._; and that he could not (considering the cost of cleaning and servants) estimate the expense of repairing the damage done by the dirt and dust, carried and blown into these houses, at a less annual sum than that of his rent!”

An upholsterer obliged me with the following calculations, but so many were the materials, and so different the rates of wear or the liability to injury in different materials in his trade, that he could only calculate generally.

The same quality, colour, and pattern of curtains, silk damasks, which he had furnished to a house in town, and to a country house belonging to the same gentleman, looked far fresher and better after five years’ wear in the country than after three in town. Both windows had a southern aspect, but the occupant would have his windows partially open unless the weather was cold, foggy, or rainy. It was the same, or nearly the same, he thought, with the carpets on the two places, for London dust was highly injurious to all the better qualities of carpets. He was satisfied, also, it was the same generally in upholstery work subjected to town dust.

I inquired at several West-end and city shops, and of different descriptions of tradesmen, of the injury done to their shop and shop-window goods by the dust, but I found none who had made any calculations on the subject. All, however, agreed that the dust was an excessive annoyance, and entailed great expense; a ladies’ shoemaker and a bookseller expressed this particularly--on the necessity of making the window a sort of small glass-house to exclude the dust, which, after all, was not sufficiently excluded. All thought, or with but one hesitating exception, that the estimation as to the loss sustained by the Messrs. Holmes, considering the extent of their premises, and the richness of the goods displayed in the windows, &c., was not in excess.

I can, then, but indicate the injury to household furniture and stock-in-trade as a corroboration of all that has been advanced touching the damaging effects of road dirt.

OF THE HORSE-DUNG OF THE STREETS OF LONDON.

“Familiarity with streets of crowded traffic deadens the senses to the perception of their actual condition. Strangers coming from the country frequently describe the streets of London as smelling of dung like a stable-yard.”

Such is one of the statements in a Report submitted to Parliament, and there is no reason to doubt the fact. Every English visitor to a French city, for instance, must have detected street-odours of which the inhabitants were utterly unconscious. In a work which between 20 and 30 years ago was deservedly popular, Mathews’s “Diary of an Invalid,” it is mentioned that an English lady complaining of the villanous rankness of the air in the first French town she entered--Calais, if I remember rightly--received the comfortable assurance, “It is the smell of the Continent, ma’am.” Even in Cologne itself, the “most stinking city of Europe,” as it has been termed, the citizens are insensible to the foul airs of their streets, and yet possess great skill in manufacturing perfumed and distilled waters for the toilet, pluming themselves on the delicacy and discrimination of their nasal organs. What we perceive in other cities, as strangers, those who visit London detect in our streets--that they smell of dung like stable-yards. It is idle for London denizens, because they are unconscious of the fact, to deny the existence of any such effluvia. I have met with nightmen who have told me that there was “nothing particular” in the smell of the cesspools they were emptying; they “hardly perceived it.” One man said, “Why, it’s like the sort of stuff I’ve smelt in them ladies’ smelling-bottles.” An eminent tallow-melter said, in the course of his evidence before Parliament during a sanitary inquiry, that the smell from the tallow-melting on his premises was not only healthful and reviving--for invalids came to inhale it--but agreeable. I mention these facts to meet the scepticism which the official assertion as to the stable-like odour of the streets may, perhaps, provoke. When, however, I state the quantity of horse-dung and “cattle-droppings” voided in the streets, all incredulity, I doubt not, will be removed.

“It has been ascertained,” says the Report of the National Philanthropic Association, “that four-fifths of the street-dirt consist of horse and cattle-droppings.”

Let us, therefore, endeavour to arrive at definite notions as to the absolute quantity of this element of street-dirt.

And, first, as to the number of cattle and horses traversing the streets of London.

In the course of an inquiry in November, 1850, into Smithfield-market, I adduced the following results as to the number of cattle entering the metropolis, deriving the information from the experience of Mr. Deputy Hicks, confirmed by returns to Parliament, by the amount of tolls, and further ratified by the opinion of some of the most experienced “live salesmen” and “dead salesmen” (sellers on commission of live and dead cattle), whose assistance I had the pleasure of obtaining.

The return is of the stock annually sold in Smithfield-market, and includes not only English but foreign beasts, sheep, and calves; the latter averaging weekly in 1848 (the latest return then published), beasts, 590; sheep, 2478; and calves, 248.

224,000 horned cattle. 1,550,000 sheep. 27,300 calves. 40,000 pigs. --------- Total 1,841,300.

I may remark that this is not a criterion of the consumption of animal food in the metropolis, for there are, besides the above, the daily supplies from the country to the “dead salesmen.” The preceding return, however, is sufficient for my present purpose, which is to show the quantity of cattle manure “dropped” in London.

The number of cattle entering the metropolis, then, are 1,841,300 per annum.

The number of horses daily traversing the metropolis has been already set forth. By a return obtained by Mr. Charles Cochrane from the Stamp and Tax Office, we have seen that there are altogether

In London and Westminster, of private carriage, job, and cart horses 10,022 Cab horses 5,692 Omnibus horses 5,500 Horses daily coming to metropolis 3,000 ------ Total number of horses daily in London 24,214

Spotted a typo or a problem in this chapter? Tell us