“This memorial sheweth that Mrs. Julia Thompson, widow, Cowkeeper and Dairywoman has since the demise of her husband which took place in 1849 supported a family consisting of six children by the assistance of a small Dairy the Pleuro-Pneumonia a disease Among Cattle has prevailed in the neighbourhood for several weeks during which time she has lost five Milch Cows estimated at £75. „ „ which will end in her entire ruin unless aided by the Hands of the Benevolent whose Donations in conjunction with Our mutual assistance will We trust enable Mrs. Thompson to realize some part of her lost property to follow her Business As before.
| H. Peters | £3 | 3 | 0 |
| April 17th, 1856 | |||
| Chaplin & Horne | £2 | ||
| Mrs. Gore | 1 | ||
| Revd J. W. Buckley | 2 | ||
| Revd John Miles | 1 | ||
| Mrs. J. Shaw | 2 | paid | |
| C. Lushington | 3 | 3 | |
| W. H. Ormsby | 2 | ||
| C. Molyneux | 1 | ||
| Miss Ferrers | 2 | paid | |
| W. Emmitt | 2 | 2 | |
| Anonymous | 2 | 0 | |
| Misses Gregg | 2 | 2 | |
| Miss Browne | 1 | ||
| J. B. White & Bros | 3 | pd | |
| Thos Slater | 2 | ||
| W. T. Bird | 2 | pd. | |
| Miss Hamilton | 3 | paid | |
| Revd. J. A. Toole | 2 | paid | |
| Mr. Hopgood | 2 | Paid | |
| A Friend to the Widow | 3 | 3 | |
| Paid to Mr. Pegg | |||
| Richd Green | £2 | pd | |
| Revd A. M. Campbell | 3 | ||
| W. P. France | 1 | ||
| W. M. N. Reilly | 2 | 2 | |
| Mrs. Forbes | 2 | pd | |
| R. Gurney | 1 | ||
| J. Spurling | 2 | pd | |
| Geo. R. Ward | 1 | ||
| Miss Brown | 2 | ||
| Mrs Needham | 2 | Paid | |
| Mr Davidson | £2 | ||
| Mrs. H. Scott Waring | 3 | 3 | |
| Mrs Hall | 1 | 1 | |
| Saml. Venables | 2 | ||
| Revd. A. Taylor | 1 | ||
| Revd. H. V. Le Bas | 1 | ||
| Thomas Bunting | 2 | pd. | |
| Mrs & Miss Vullamy | 3 | ||
| Revd. C. Smalley | 5 | ||
| Miss Smalley | 3 | ||
| Lord Brougham | 2” | ||
The two most notorious “screevers” of the present day are Mr. Sullivan and Mr. Johnson of Westminster, or as he is proud of being called, “Johnson the Schemer.”
Referees
are generally keepers of low lodging-houses, brothels, &c., or small tradesmen who supply thieves and beggars with chandlery, &c. When applied to for the character of any of their friends and confederates, they give them an excellent recommendation—but are careful not to overdo it. With that highest sort of artfulness that conceals artfulness, they know when to stop, and seldom or never betray themselves by saying too much.
“Mrs. Simmons!” said one of them in answer to an application for character—“ah, yes, sir, I known her a good many years, and a very honest, hard-working, industrious, sober sort of a person I always knowed her to be, at least as far as I see—I never see nothing wrong in the woman for my part. The earliest-uppest, and downest-latest woman I ever see, and well she need be, with that family of hers—nine on ’em, and the eldest girl a idiot. When first I knew her, sir, her husband was alive, and then Susan—that’s the idiot, sir, were a babe in arms—her husband was a bad man to her, sir—the way that man drunk and spent his money among all the lowest girls and corner-coves was awful to see,—I mean by corner-coves them sort of men who is always a standing at the corners of the streets and chaffing respectable folks a passing by—we call them corner-coves about here; but as to poor Mrs. Simmons, sir, that husband of hers tret her awful—though he’s dead and gone now, poor man, and perhaps I have no right to speak ill on the dead. He had some money with her too—two hundred pound I heard—her father was a builder in a small way—and lived out towards Fulham—a very deserving woman I always found her, sir, and I have helped her a little bit myself, not much of course, for my circumstances would not allow of it; I’ve a wife and family myself—and I have often been wishful I could help her more, but what can a man do as has to pay his rent and taxes, and bring up his family respectable? When her last baby but two had the ring-worm we helped her now and then with a loaf of bread—poor thing—it ran right through the family, that ring-worm did—six on ’em had it at the same time, she told us—and then they took the measles—the most unluckiest family in catching things as goes about I never saw—but as to Mrs. Simmons herself, sir, poor thing—a more hard-workinger and honester woman I never, &c., &c., &c.”
DISTRESSED OPERATIVE BEGGARS.
All beggars are ingenious enough to make capital of public events. They read the newspapers, judge the bent of popular sympathy, and decide on the “lay” to be adopted. The “Times” informs its readers that two or three hundred English navigators have been suddenly turned adrift in France. The native labourers object to the employment of aliens, and our stalwart countrymen have been subjected to insult as well as privation. The beggar’s course is taken; he goes to Petticoat Lane, purchases a white smock frock, a purple or red plush waistcoat profusely ornamented with wooden buttons, a coloured cotton neckerchief, and a red nightcap. If procurable “in the Lane,” he also buys a pair of coarse-ribbed grey worsted-stockings, and boots whose enormous weight is increased by several pounds of iron nails in their thick soles; even then he is not perfect, he seeks a rag and bottle and old iron shop—your genuine artist-beggar never asks for what is new, he prefers the worn, the used, the ragged and the rusty—and bargains for a spade. The proprietor of the shop knows perfectly well that his customer requires an article for show, not service, and they part with a mutual grin, and the next day every street swarms with groups of distressed navigators. Popular feeling is on their side, and halfpence shower round them. Meanwhile the poor fellows for whom all this generous indignation is evoked are waiting in crowds at a French port till the British Consul passed them over to their native soil as paupers.
The same tactics are pursued with manufactures. Beggars read the list of patents, and watch the effect of every fresh discovery in mechanics on the operatives of Lancashire and Yorkshire. A new machine is patented. So many hands are thrown out of work. So many beggars, who have never seen Lancashire, except when on the tramp, are heard in London. A strike takes place at several mills, pretended “hands” next day parade the streets. Even the variability of our climate is pressed into the “cadging” service; a frost locks up the rivers, and hardens the earth, rusty spades and gardening tools are in demand, and the indefatigable beggar takes the pavement in another “fancy dress.” Every social shipwreck is watched and turned to account by these systematic land-wreckers, who have reduced false signals to a regular code, and beg by rule and line and chart and compass.