“Until I was nineteen—I’m sixty-nine now—I used to sell water-creases, but they felled off and then I dropped it. Both mother and myself sold water-creases after my Lord Bessborough died; for whilst he lived she wouldn’t leave him not for nothing.
“We used to do uncommon well at one time; there wasn’t nobody about then as there is now. I’ve sold flowers, too; they was very good then; they was mostly show carnations and moss roses, and such-like, but no common flowers—it wouldn’t have done for me to sell common things at the houses I used to go to.
“The reason why I took to a crossing was, I had an old father and I didn’t want him to go to the workus. I didn’t wish too to do anything bad myself, and I never would—no, sir, for I’ve got as good a charackter as the first nobleman in the land, and that’s a fine thing, ain’t it? So as water-creases had fell off till they wasn’t a living to me, I had to do summat else to help me to live.
“I saw the crossing-sweepers in Westminster making a deal of money, so I thought to myself I’ll do that, and I fixed upon Cavendish-square, because, I said to myself, I’m known there; it’s where I was born, and there I set to work.
“The very first day I was at work I took ten shillings. I never asked nobody; I only bowed my head and put my hand to my hat, and they knowed what it meant.
“By jingo, when I took that there I thought to myself, What a fool I’ve been to stop at water-creases!
“For the first ten year I did uncommon well. Give me the old-fashioned way; they were good times then; I like the old-fashioned way. Give me the old penny pieces, and then the eighteen-penny pieces, and the three-shilling pieces, and the seven-shilling pieces—give me them, I says. The day the old halfpence and silver was cried down, that is, the old coin was called in to change the currency, my hat wouldn’t hold the old silver and halfpence I was give that afternoon. I had such a lot, upon my word, they broke my pocket. I didn’t know the money was altered, but a fishmonger says to me, ‘Have you got any old silver?’ I said ‘Yes, I’ve got a hat full;’ and then says he, ‘Take ’em down to Couttseses and change ’em.’ I went, and I was nearly squeeged to death.
“That was the first time I was like to be killed, but I was nigh killed again when Queen Caroline passed through Cavendish-square after her trial. They took the horses out of her carriage and pulled her along. She kept a chucking money out of the carriage, and I went and scrambled for it, and I got five-and-twenty shillin, but my hand was a nigh smashed through it; and, says a friend of mine, before I went, ‘Billy,’ says he, ‘don’t you go;’ and I was sorry after I did. She was a good woman, she was. The Yallers, that is, the king’s party, was agin her, and pulled up the paving-stones when her funeral passed; but the Blues was for her.
“I can remember, too, the mob at the time of the Lord Castlereagh riots. They went to Portman-square and broke all the winders in the house. They pulled up all the rails to purtect theirselves with. I went to the Bishop of Durham’s, and hid myself in the coal-cellar then. My mother chaired there, too. The Bishop of Durham and Lord Harcourt opened their gates and hurrah’d the mob, so they had nothing of their’s touched; but whether they did it through fear or not I can’t say. The mob was carrying a quartern loaf dipped in bullock’s blood, and when I saw it I thought it was a man’s head; so that frightened me, and I run off.
“I remember, too, when Lady Pembroke’s house was burnt to the ground. That’s about eighteen year ago. It was very lucky the family wasn’t in town. The housekeeper was a nigh killed, and they had to get her out over the stables; and when her ladyship heard she was all right, she said she didn’t care for the fire since the old dame was saved, for she had lived along with the family for many years. No, bless you, sir! I didn’t help at the fire; I’m too much of a coward to do that.