“If some people was to see that, sir,” said the sweeper, when he entered and saw me looking at it, “they would, and in fact they do say, ‘Why, you can’t be in want.’ Ah! little they know how we starved and pinched ourselves before we could get it.”
There was a fire in the room, notwithstanding the day was very hot; but the window was wide open, and the place tolerably ventilated, though oppressive. I have been in many poor people’s “places,” but never remember one so poor in its appointments and yet so free from effluvia.
The crossing-sweeper himself was a very civil sort of man, and in answer to my inquiries said:—
“I know that I do as I ought to, and so I don’t feel hurt at standing at my crossing. I have been there four years. I found the place vacant. My wife, though she looks very well, will never be able to do any hard work; so we sold our mangle, and I took to the crossing: but we’re not in debt, and nobody can’t say nothing to us. I like to go along the streets free of such remarks as is made by people to whom you owes money. I had a mangle in —— Yard, but through my wife’s weakness I was forced to part with it. I was on the crossing a short time before that, for I knew that if I parted with my mangle and things before I knew whether I could get a living at the crossing I couldn’t get my mangle back again.
“We sold the mangle only for a sovereign, and we gave two-pound-ten for it; we sold it to the same man that we bought it of. About six months ago I managed for to screw and save enough to buy that little wicker chaise, for I can’t carry the children because of my one leg, and of course the mother can’t carry them both out together. There was a man had the crossing I’ve got; he died three or four years before I took it; but he didn’t depend on the crossing—he did things for the tradespeople about, such as carpet-beating, messages, and so on.
“When I first took the crossing I did very well. It happened to be a very nasty, dirty season, and I took a good deal of money. Sweepers are not always civil, sir.
“I wish I had gone to one of the squares, though. But I think after —— street is paved with stone I shall do better. I am certain I never taste a bit of meat from one week’s end to the other. The best day I ever made was five-and-sixpence or six shillings; it was the winter before last. If you remember, the snow laid very thick on the ground, and the sudden thaw made walking so uncomfortable, that I did very well. I have taken as little as sixpence, fourpence, and even twopence. Last Thursday I took two ha’pence all day. Take one week with the other, seven or eight shillings is the very outside.
“I don’t know how it is, but some people who used to give me a penny, don’t now. The boys who come in wet weather earn a great deal more than I do. I once lost a good chance, sir, at the corner of the street leading to Cavendish-square. There’s a bank, and they pay a man seven shillings a-week to sweep the crossing: a butcher in Oxford Market spoke for me; but when I went up, it unfortunately turned out that I was not fit, from the loss of my leg. The last man they had there they were obliged to turn away—he was so given to drink.
“I think there are some rich crossing-sweepers in the city, about the Exchange; but you won’t find them now during this dry weather, except in by-places. In wet weather, there are two or three boys who sweep near my crossing, and take all my earnings away. There’s a great able-bodied man besides—a fellow strong enough to follow the plough. I said to the policeman, ‘Now, ain’t this a shame?’ and the policeman said, ‘Well, he must get his living as well as you.’ I’m always civil to the police, and they’re always civil to me—in fact, I think sometimes I’m too civil—I’m not rough enough with people.
“You soon tell whether to have any hopes of people coming across. I can tell a gentleman directly I see him.