London Labour and the London Poor, Vol. 4

In tracing the pickpocket from the beginning of his career, in most cases we must turn our attention to the little ragged boys living by a felon’s hearth, or herding with other young criminals in a low lodging-house, or dwelling in the cold and comfortless home of drunken and improvident parents. The great majority of the pickpockets of the metropolis, with few exceptions, have sprung from the dregs of society—from the hearths and homes of London thieves—so that they have no reason to be proud of their lineage. Fifteen or twenty years ago many of those accomplished pickpockets, dressed in the highest style of fashion, and glittering in gold chains, studs, and rings, who walk around the Bank of England and along Cheapside, and our busy thoroughfares, were poor ragged boys walking barefooted among the dark and dirty slums and alleys of Westminster and the Seven Dials, or loitering among the thieves’ dens of the Borough and Whitechapel.

Step by step they have emerged from their rags and squalor to a higher position of physical comfort, and have risen to higher dexterity and accomplishment in their base and ignoble profession.

We say there are a few exceptions to the general rule, that the most of our habitual thieves have sprung from the loins of felon parents. We blush to say that some have joined the ranks of our London thieves, and are living callous in open crime, who were trained in the homes of honest and industrious parents, and were surrounded in early life with all those influences which are fitted to elevate and improve the mind. But here our space forbids us to enlarge.

The chief sources whence our pickpockets spring are from the low lodging-houses—from those dwellings in low neighbourhoods, where their parents are thieves, and where improvident and drunken people neglect their children, such as Whitechapel, Shoreditch, Spitalfields, New Cut, Lambeth, the Borough, Clerkenwell, Drury Lane, and other localities. Many of them are the children of Irish parents, costermongers, bricklayers’ labourers, and others. They often begin to steal at six or seven years of age, sometimes as early as five years, and commit petty sneaking thefts, as well as pick handkerchiefs from gentlemen’s pockets. Many of these ragged urchins are taught to steal by their companions, others are taught by trainers of thieves, young men and women, and some middle-aged convicted thieves. They are learned to be expert in this way. A coat is suspended on the wall with a bell attached to it, and the boy attempts to take the handkerchief from the pocket without the bell ringing. Until he is able to do this with proficiency he is not considered well trained. Another way in which they are trained is this: The trainer—if a man—walks up and down the room with a handkerchief in the tail of his coat, and the ragged boys amuse themselves abstracting it until they learn to do it in an adroit manner. We could point our finger to three of these execrable wretches, who are well known to train schools of juvenile thieves—one of them, a young man at Whitechapel; another, a young woman at Clerkenwell; and a third, a middle-aged man residing about Lambeth Walk. These base wretches buy the stolen handkerchiefs from the boys at a paltry sum. We have also heard of some being taught to pick pockets by means of an effigy; but this is not so well authenticated.

Great numbers of these ragged pickpockets may be seen loitering about our principal streets, ready to steal from a stall or shop-door when they find an opportunity. During the day they generally pick pockets two or three in a little band, but at dusk a single one can sometimes do it with success. They not only steal handkerchiefs of various kinds, but also pocketbooks from the tails of gentlemen’s coats. We may see them occasionally engaged at this work on Blackfriars Bridge and London Bridge, also along Bishopsgate, Shoreditch, Whitechapel, Drury Lane, and similar localities. They may be seen at any hour of the day, but chiefly from 10 to 2 o’clock. They are generally actively on the look-out on Saturday evening in the shopping streets where the labouring people get their provisions in for the Sunday. At this early stage the boys occasionally pick pockets, and go about cadging and sneaking (begging and committing petty felonies).

The next stage commences—we shall say—about fourteen years of age, when the stripling lays aside his rags, and dresses in a more decent way, though rather shabby. Perhaps in a dark or gray frock-coat, dark or dirty tweed trousers, and a cap with peak, and shoes. At this time many of them go to low neighbourhoods, or to those quieter localities where the labouring people reside, and pick the pockets of the wives and daughters of this class of persons; others steal from gentlemen passing along thoroughfares, while a few adroit lads are employed by men to steal from ladies’ pockets in the fashionable streets of the metropolis.

These young thieves seldom commit their depredations in the localities where they are known, but prowl in different parts of the metropolis. They are of a wandering character, changing from one district to another, and living in different lodging-houses—often leaving their parent’s houses as early as ten years of age. Sometimes they are driven by drunken loafing parents to steal, though in most cases they leave their comfortless homes and live in lodging-houses.

When they have booty, they generally bring it to some person to dispose of, as suspicion would be aroused if they went to sell or pawn it themselves. In some cases they give it to the trainer of thieves, or they take it to some low receiving house, where wretches encourage them in stealing; sometimes to low coffee-houses, low hairdressers or tailors, who act as middle-men to dispose of the property, generally giving them but a small part of the value.

In the event of their rambling to a distant part of London, they sometimes arrange to get one of their number to convey the stolen goods to these parties. At other times they dispose of them to low wretches connected with the lodging-houses, or other persons in disreputable neighbourhoods.

At this time many of them cohabit with girls in low lodging-houses; many of whom are older than themselves, and generally of the felon class.

These lads frequently steal at the “tail” of gentlemen’s coats, and learn the other modes of picking pockets.

Stealing the handkerchief from the “tail” of a gentleman’s coat in the street is generally effected in this way. Three or four usually go together. They see an old gentleman passing by. One remains behind, while the other two follow up close beside him, but a little behind. The one walking by himself behind is the looker out to see if there are any police or detectives near, or if any one passing by or hovering around is taking notice of them. One of the two walking close by the gentleman adroitly picks his pocket, and coils the handkerchief up in his hand so as not to be seen, while the other brings his body close to him, so as not to let his arm be seen by any passer by.

If the party feel him taking the handkerchief from his pocket, the thief passes it quickly to his companion, who runs off with it. The looker-out walks quietly on as if nothing had occurred, or sometimes walks up to the gentleman and asks him what is the matter, or pretends to tell him in what direction the thief has run, pointing him to a very different direction from the one he has taken.

They not only abstract handkerchiefs but also pocketbooks from the tail of gentlemen’s coats, or any other article they can lay their fingers on.

This is the common way in which the coat-pocket is picked when the person is proceeding along the street. Sometimes it happens that one thief will work by himself, but this is very seldom. In the case of a person standing, the coat-tail pocket is picked much in the same manner.

These boys in most cases confine themselves to stealing from the coat-pocket on the streets, but in the event of a crowd on any occasion, they are so bold as to steal watches from the vest-pocket. This is done in a different style, and generally in the company of two or three in this manner: One of them folds his arms across his breast in such a way that his right hand is covered with his left arm. This enables him to use his hand in an unobserved way, so that he is thereby able to abstract the watch from the vest-pocket of the gentleman standing by his side.

A police-officer informed us, that when at Cremorne about a fortnight ago, a large concourse of people was assembled to see the female acrobat, termed the “Female Blondin,” cross the Thames on a rope suspended over the river, he observed two young men of about twenty-four years of age, and about the middle height, respectably dressed, whom he suspected to be pickpockets. They went up to a smart gentlemanly man standing at the riverside looking eagerly at the Female Blondin, then walking the rope over the middle of the river. As his attention was thus absorbed, the detective saw these two men go up to him. One of them placed himself close on the right hand side of him, and putting his right arm under his left, thus covered his right hand, and took the watch gently from the pocket of the gentleman’s vest. The thief made two attempts to break the ring attached to the watch, termed the “bowl” or swivel, with his finger and thumb.

After two ineffective endeavours he bent it completely round, and yet it would not break. He then left the watch hanging down in front of the vest, the gentleman meanwhile being unaware of the attempted felony. The detective officer took both the thieves into custody. They were brought before the Westminster police-court and sentenced each to three months’ imprisonment for an attempt to steal from the person.

The same officer informed us that about a month or six weeks ago, in the same place, on a similar occasion, he observed three persons, a man, a boy, and a woman, whom he suspected to be picking pockets. The man was about twenty-eight years of age, rather under the middle size. The woman hovered by his side. She was very good-looking, about twenty-four years of age, dressed in a green coloured gown, Paisley shawl, and straw bonnet trimmed with red velvet and red flowers. The man was dressed in a black frock-coat, brown trousers, and black hat. The boy, who happened to be his brother, was about fourteen years old, dressed in a brown shooting-coat, corduroy trousers, and black cap with peak. The boy had an engaging countenance, with sharp features and smart manner. The officer observed the man touch the boy on the shoulder and point him towards an old lady. The boy placed himself on her right side, and the man and woman kept behind. The former put his left hand into the pocket of the lady’s gown and drew nothing from it, then left her and went about two yards farther; there he placed himself by other two ladies, tried both their pockets and left them again. He followed another lady and succeeded in picking her pocket of a small sum of money and a handkerchief. The officer took them all to the police station with the assistance of another detective officer, when they were committed for trial at Clerkenwell sessions. The man was sentenced to ten years’ penal servitude, the boy to two months’ hard labour, and three months in a reformatory, and the woman was sentenced to two years’ imprisonment, with hard labour, in the House of Correction at Westminster.

It appeared, in the course of the evidence at the trial, that this man had previously been four years in penal servitude, and since his return had decoyed his little brother from a situation he held, for the purpose of training him to pick pockets, having induced him to rob his employer before leaving service.

The scarf pin is generally taken from the breast in this way. The thief generally has a handkerchief in his hand, pretending to wipe his nose, as he walks along the street. He then places his right hand across the breast of the person he intends to rob, bringing his left hand stealthily under his arm. This conceals his movements from the eyes of the person. With the latter hand he snatches out the pin from the scarf. It is sometimes done with the right hand, at other times with the left, according to the position of the person, and is generally done in the company of one or more. The person robbed is rarely aware of the theft. Should he be aware, or should any one passing by have observed the movement, the pin got from the scarf is suddenly passed into the hands of the other parties, when all of them suddenly make off in different directions soon to meet again in some neighbouring locality.

At other times the thief drives the person with a push, in the street, bringing his hands to his breast as if he had stumbled against him, at the same time adroitly laying hold of the pin. This is done in such a way that the person is seldom aware of the robbery until he afterwards finds out the loss of the article.

The trousers pocket is seldom picked on the public street, as this is an operation of considerable difficulty and danger. It is not easy to slip the hand into the trousers pocket without being felt by the person attempted to be robbed. This is generally done in crowds where people are squeezed together, when they contrive to do it in this way: They cut up the trousers with a knife or other sharp instrument, lay open the pocket, and adroitly rifle the money from it; or they insert the fingers or hand into it in a push, often without being observed, while the person’s attention is distracted, possibly by some of the accomplices or stalls. They often occasion a disturbance in crowds, and create a quarrel with people near them, or have sham fights with each other, or set violently on the person they intend to rob. Many rough expedients are occasionally had recourse to, to effect this object.

Sometimes the pocket is picked in a crowd by means of laying hold of the party by the middle as if they had jostled against him, or by pressing on his back from behind, while the fingers or hand are inserted into the pocket of his trousers to snatch any valuables, money or otherwise, contained therein.

This mode of stealing is sometimes done by one person, at other times by the aid of accomplices. It is most commonly done in the manner now described.

By dint of long experience and natural skill, some attain great perfection in this difficult job, and accomplish their object in the most clever and effective manner. They are so nimble and accomplished that they will accost a gentleman in the street, and while speaking to him, and looking him in the face, will quietly insert their hand into his vest pocket and steal his watch.

In a crowd, the pin is sometimes stolen with dexterity by a person from behind inserting his hand over the shoulder. Sometimes the watch is stolen by a sudden snatch at the guard, when the thief runs off with his booty. This is not so often done in the thoroughfares, as it is attended with great danger of arrest. It is oftener done in quiet by-streets, or by-places, where there are many adjacent courts and alleys intersecting each other, through which the thief has an opportunity of escaping.

These are the various modes by which gentlemen’s pockets are generally picked.

A lady’s pocket is commonly picked by persons walking by her side, who insert their hand gently into the pocket of her gown. This is often effected by walking alongside of the lady, or by stopping her in the street, asking the way to a particular place, or inquiring if she is acquainted with such and such a person. When the thief is accomplished, he can abstract the purse from her pocket in a very short space of time: but if he is not so adroit, he will detain her some time longer, asking further questions till he has completed his object. This is often done by a man and a woman in company.

A lady generally carries her gold or silver watch in a small pocket in front of her dress, possibly under one of the large flounces. It is often stolen from her by one or two, or even three persons, one of the thieves accosting her in the street in the manner described. They seldom steal the guard, but in most cases contrive to break the ring or swivel by which it is attached. Let us suppose that two pickpockets, a man and a woman, were to see a lady with a watch in the public street; they are possibly walking arm-in-arm; they make up to her, inquire the way to a particular place, and stand in front of her. One of them would ask the way while the other would meantime be busy picking her pocket. If they succeed, they walk off arm-in-arm as they came.

Sometimes two or three men will go up to a lady and deliberately snatch a parcel or reticule-bag from her hand or arm, and run off with it.

At other times a very accomplished pickpocket may pick ladies’ pockets without any accomplices, or with none to cover his movements.

Walking along Cheapside one day, toward the afternoon, we observed a well-dressed, good-looking man of about thirty years of age, having the appearance of a smart man of business, standing by the side of an elderly looking, respectably dressed lady at a jeweller’s window. The lady appeared to belong to the country, from her dress and manner, and was absorbed looking into the window at the gold watches, gold chains, lockets, pins, and other trinkets glittering within. Meantime the gentleman also appeared to be engrossed looking at these articles beside her, while crowds of people were passing to and fro in the street, and the carts, cabs, omnibuses, and other vehicles were rumbling by, deadening the footsteps of the passers by. Our eye accidentally caught sight of his left hand drooping by his side in the direction of the lady’s pocket. We observed it glide softly in the direction of her pocket beneath the edge of her shawl with all the fascination of a serpent’s movement. While the hand lay drooping, the fingers sought their way to the pocket. From the movement we observed that the fingers had found the pocket, and were seeking their way farther into the interior. The person was about to plunge his hand to abstract the contents, when we instinctively hooked his wrist with the curve of our walking-stick and prevented the robbery. With great address and tact he withdrew his hand from the lady’s pocket, and his wrist from our grasp, and walked quietly away. Meantime a group of people had gathered round about us, and a gentleman asked if we had observed a pocket picked. We said nothing, but whispered to the lady, who stood at the window unaware of the attempted felony, that we had prevented her pocket being picked, and had just scared a thief with his hand in her pocket, then walked over to the other side of the street and passed on.

The more accomplished pickpockets are very adroit in their movements. A young lady may be standing by a window in Cheapside, Fleet Street, Oxford Street, or the Strand, admiring some beautiful engraving. Meantime a handsomely dressed young man, with gold chain and moustache, also takes his station at the window beside her, apparently admiring the same engraving. The young lady stands gazing on the beautiful picture, with her countenance glowing with sentiment, which may be enhanced by the sympathetic presence of the nice looking young man by her side, and while her bosom is thus throbbing with romantic emotion, her purse, meanwhile, is being quietly transferred to the pocket of this elegantly attired young man, whom she might find in the evening dressed as a rough costermonger, mingling among the low ruffians at the Seven Dials or Whitechapel, or possibly lounging in some low beershop in the Borough.

There are various ranks of pickpockets, from the little ragged boy, stealing the handkerchief from a gentleman’s coat pocket, to the fashionable thief, promenading around the Bank, or strolling, arm in arm, with his gentlemanly looking companion along Cheapside.

The swell-mob are to be seen all over London, in crowded thoroughfares, at railway stations, in omnibuses and steamboats. You find them pursuing their base traffic in the Strand, Fleet Street, Holborn, Parliament Street, and at Whitehall, over the whole of the metropolis, and they are to be seen on all public occasions looking out for plunder.

Some commence their work at 8 and 9 in the morning, others do not rise till 11 or 12. They are generally seen about 11 or 12 o’clock—sometimes till dusk. Some work in the evening, and not during the day, while others are out during the day, and do nothing in the evening. In times of great public excitement, when crowds are assembled, such as at the late fire at London Bridge, when those great warehouses were burnt down—they are in motion from the lowest to the highest. They are generally as busy in summer time as in the winter. When the gentry and nobility have retired to their country-seats in the provinces, crowds of strangers and tourists are pouring into the metropolis every day.

They often travel into the country to attend races such as Ascot, the Derby at Epsom, and others in the surrounding towns. They go to the Crystal Palace, where the cleverest of them may be frequently seen, also to Cremorne, the Zoological Gardens Regent’s Park, the theatres, operas, ball-rooms, casinos, and other fashionable places of amusement—sometimes to the great crowds that usually assemble at Mr. Spurgeon’s new Tabernacle.

They also occasionally make tours in different parts of the United Kingdom and to Paris, and along the railways in all directions.

The most accomplished pickpockets reside at Islington, Hoxton, Kingsland Road, St. Luke’s, the Borough, Camberwell, and Lambeth, in quiet, respectable streets, and occasionally change their lodging if watched by the police.

They have in most cases been thieves from their cradle; others are tradesmen’s sons and young men from the provinces, who have gone into dissipated life and adopted this infamous course. These fast men are sometimes useful as stalls, though they rarely acquire the dexterity of the native-born, trained London pickpocket.

There are a few foreign pickpockets, French and others. Some of them are bullies about the Haymarket. There are also some German pickpockets, but the foreigners are principally French. As a general rule, more of the latter are engaged in swindling, than in picking pockets. Some of the French are considered in adroitness equal to the best of the English. There are also a few Scotch, but the great mass are Irish cockneys, which a penetrating eye could trace by their look and manner. Many of them have a restless look, as if always in dread of being taken, and generally keep a sharp look-out with the side of their eye as they walk along.

They differ a good deal in appearance. The better class dress very fashionably; others in the lower class do not dress so well. The more dexterous they are, they generally dress in higher style, to get among the more respectable and fashionable people. Some of the female pickpockets also dress splendidly, and have been heard to boast of frequently stealing from 20l. to 30l. a-day in working on ladies’ pockets. They are sometimes as adroit as the men in stealing ladies’ purses, and are less noticed lingering beside them on the streets, by the shop-windows, and in places of public resort.

Yet, though well dressed, there is a peculiarity about the look of most of the male and female pickpockets. The countenance of many of them is suspicious to a penetrating eye. Many of them have considerable mental ability, and appear to be highly intelligent.

The most dexterous pickpockets generally average from twenty to thirty-five years of age, when many of them become depressed in spirit, and “have the steel taken out of them” with the anxiety of the life and the punishments inflicted on them in the course of their criminal career. The restlessness and suspense of their life have the effect of dissipation upon a good many of them, so that, though generally comparatively temperate in the use of intoxicating liquors, they may be said to lead a fast life.

Some of them take a keen bold look, full into your countenance; others have a sneaking, suspicious, downcast appearance, showing that all is not right within.

They dress in various styles; sometimes in the finest of superfine black cloth; at other times in fashionable suits, like the first gentlemen in the land, spangled with jewellery. Some of them would pass for gentlemen—they are so polite in their address. Others appear like a mock-swell, vulgar in their manner—which is transparent through their fine dress, and are debased in their conversation, which is at once observed when they begin to speak.

The female pickpockets dress in fashionable attire; sometimes in black satin dresses and jewellery. Some of them are very lady-like, though they have sprung originally from the lowest class. You may see very beautiful women among them, though vulgar in their conversation. The females are often superior in intellect to the men, and more orderly in their habits. They are seldom married, but cohabit with pickpockets, burglars, resetters, and other infamous characters. Their paramour is frequently taken from them, and they readily go with another man in the same illicit manner.

They are passionately fond of their fancy man in most cases; yet very capricious—so much so that they not unfrequently leave the man they cohabit with for another sweetheart, and afterwards go back to their old lover again, who is so easy in his principles that he often welcomes her, especially if she is a good worker—that is, an expert pickpocket.

The greater part of these women have sprung from the class of Irish cockneys; others have been domestic servants and the daughters of labourers, low tradesmen, and others. This gives us a key to many of these house robberies, done with the collusion of servants—a kind of felony very common over the metropolis. These are not the more respectable genteel class of servants, but the humbler order, such as nursery girls and females in tradesmen’s families. Many of them have come from the country, or from labouring people’s families over the working neighbourhoods of the metropolis. They are soon taught to steal by the men they cohabit with, but seldom acquire the dexterity of the thief who has been younger trained. They seldom have the acuteness, tact, and dexterity of the latter.

They live very expensively on the best of poultry, butcher-meat, pastry, and wines, and some of them keep their pony and trap; most of them are very improvident, and spend their money foolishly on eating and drinking—though few of them drink to excess,—on dress, amusements, and gambling.

They do not go out every day to steal, but probably remain in the house till their money is nearly spent, when they commence anew their system of robbery to fill their purse.

The female pickpockets often live with the burglars. They have their different professions which they pursue. When the one is not successful in the one mode of plunder, they often get it in the other, or the women will resort to shoplifting. They must have money in either of these ways. The women do not resort to prostitution, though they may be of easy virtue with those they fancy. Some of them live with cracksmen in high style, and have generally an abundance of cash.

Female pickpockets are often the companions of skittlesharps, and pursue their mode of livelihood as in the case of cohabiting with burglars. Their age averages from sixteen to forty-five.

The generality of the pickpockets confine themselves to their own class of robberies. Others betake themselves to card-sharping and skittle-sharping, while a few of the more daring eventually become dexterous burglars.

In their leisure hours they frequently call at certain beershops and public-houses, kept possibly by some old “pals” or connexions of the felon class, at King’s Cross, near Shoreditch Church, Whitechapel, the Elephant and Castle, and Westminster, and are to be seen dangling about these localities.

Some of the swell-mobsmen have been well-educated men, and at one time held good situations; some have been clerks; others are connected with respectable families, led away by bad companions, until they have become the dregs of society, and after having been turned out of their own social circle, have become thieves. They are not generally so adroit as the young trained thief, though they may be useful to their gangs in acting as stalls.

Many of them are intelligent men, and have a fund of general information which enables them to act their part tolerably well when in society.

Omnibus Pickpockets.

The most of this class of thieves are well-dressed women, and go out one or two together, sometimes three. They generally manage to get to the farthest seats in the interior of the omnibus, on opposite sides of the vehicle, next to the horses. As the lady passengers come in, they eye them carefully, and one of them seats herself on the right side of the lady they intend to plunder. She generally manages to throw the bottom of her cape or shawl over the lap of the lady, and works with her hand under it, so as to cover her movement.

Her confederate is generally sitting opposite to see that no one is noticing. In abstracting from a lady’s pocket, the female thief has often to cut through the dress and pocket, which she does with a pocket-knife, pair of scissors, or other sharp instrument. So soon as she has secured the purse, or other booty, she and her companion leave the omnibus on the earliest opportunity, often in their hurry giving the conductor more than his fare, which creates suspicion, and frequently leads to their detection. Experienced conductors often inquire of the passengers on such occasions if they have lost anything, and if they find they have, they give chase to the parties to apprehend them.

It often happens the thief follows a lady into an omnibus from seeing the lady take out her purse perhaps in some shop. If she could not pick her pocket in the street, she contrives to go into an omnibus, and do it there. These robberies are committed in all parts of London. They generally work at some distance from where they live, so that they are not easily traced if detected at the time.

They invariably give false names and false addresses, when taken into custody. The same women who pick ladies’ pockets in the street, perpetrate these felonies in omnibuses, and often travel by railway, pursuing this occupation—sometimes two women together, sometimes one along with a man.

Sometimes gentlemen’s pockets are picked in omnibuses by male pickpockets, who also steal from the lady passengers when they find a suitable opportunity, especially at dusk.

Railway Pickpockets.

This is the same class of persons who pick pockets on the public street as already described. They often visit the various railway stations, and are generally smartly dressed as they linger there—some of them better than others. Some of the females are dressed like shopkeepers’ wives, others like milliners, varying from nineteen to forty years of age, mostly from nineteen to twenty-five; some of them attired in cotton gowns, others in silks and satins.

At the railway stations they are generally seen moving restlessly about from one place to another, as if they did not intend to go by any particular railway train. There is an unrest about the most of them which to a discerning eye would attract attention.

They seldom take the train, but dangle among the throng around the ticket office, or on the platform beside the railway carriages on the eve of the train starting off, as well as when the train arrives. When they see ladies engaged in conversation, they go up to them and plant themselves by their side, while the others cover their movements. There generally are two, sometimes three of them in a party. They place themselves on the right hand side of the ladies, next to their pocket, and work with the left hand. When the ladies move, the thieves walk along with them.

The female pickpockets generally carry a reticule on their right arm so as to take off suspicion, and walk up to the persons at the railway station, and inquire what time the train starts to such a place, to detain them in conversation, and to keep them in their company.

The older female thieves generally look cool and weary, the younger ones are more restless and suspicious in their movements. They sometimes go into first and second class waiting-rooms and sit by the side of any lady they suppose to be possessed of a sum of money, and try to pick her pocket by inserting their hand, or by cutting it with a knife or other sharp instrument. They generally insert the whole hand, as the ladies’ pockets are frequently deep in the dress. They often have a large cape to cover their hands, and pick the pocket while speaking to the lady, or sitting by her side. The young pickpockets are generally the most expert.

They seldom take the brooch from the breast, but confine themselves to picking pockets.

After they take the purse, they generally run to some by-place and throw it away, so that it cannot be identified; sometimes they put it into a watercloset, at other times drop it down an area as they pass along.

After taking the purse, the thief hands it to her companion, and they separate and walk away, and meet at some place appointed.

They occasionally travel with the trains to the Crystal Palace and other places in the neighbourhood of London, and endeavour to plunder the passengers on the way. Frequently they take longer excursions—especially during the summer—journeying from town to town, and going to races and markets, agricultural shows, or any places where there is a large concourse of people. Unless they are detected at the time they pick the pocket, they seldom leave any suspicion behind them, as they take care to lodge in respectable places, where no one would suspect them, and have generally plenty of money.

A considerable number of the male thieves also attend the railway stations, and pick pockets in the railway trains. They are generally well dressed, and many of them have an Inverness cape, often of a dark colour, and sometimes they carry a coat on their arm to hide their hand. There are commonly two or more of them together—sometimes women accompanying them. They are the same parties we have already so fully described, who commit such felonies in the streets, thoroughfares, and places of public resort in the metropolis, and their movements are in a great measure the same.

Shoplifters.

There is a class of women who visit the shops in various parts of the metropolis, sometimes two and at other times three together. They vary their dress according to the locality they visit. Sometimes you find them dressed very respectably, like the wives of people in good circumstances in life; at other times, they appear like servants. They often wear large cloaks, or shawls, and are to be found of different ages, from 14 to 60. They generally call into shops at busy times, when there are many persons standing around the counter, and will stand two or three together. They ask a look of certain articles, and will possibly say, after they have inspected them, that they do not suit them; they will say they are too high in price, or not the article they want, or not the proper colour. They will likely ask to see some other goods, and keep looking at the different articles until they get a quantity on the counter. When the shopman is engaged getting some fresh goods from the window, or from the shelves, one of them generally contrives to slip something under her cloak or shawl, while the other manages to keep his attention abstracted. Sometimes they carry a bag or a basket, and set it down on the counter, and while the shopman is busy, they will get some article and lay it down behind their basket, such as a roll of ribbons, or a half dozen of gloves, or other small portable goods. While the shopman’s back is turned, or his attention withdrawn, it is hidden under their shawl or cloak. We frequently find the skirt of their dress lined from the pocket downward, forming a large repository all around the dress, with an opening in front, where they can insert a small article, which is not observed in the ample crinoline. In stealing rolls of silk, or other heavier goods, they conceal them under their arm. Women who engage in shoplifting sometimes pick pockets in the shops. They get by the side of a lady engaged looking over articles, and under pretence of inspecting goods in the one hand, pick their pockets with the other.

We find more of these people living in the east end and on the Surrey side than in the west end of the metropolis. A great many live in the neighbourhood of Kingsland Road and Hackney Road. Some of them cohabit with burglars, others with magsmen (skittle-sharps).

We find ladies in respectable position occasionally charged with shoplifting.

Respectably dressed men frequently go into the shops of drapers and others early in the morning, or at intervals during the day, or evening, to look at the goods, and often manage to abstract one or two articles, and secrete them under their coats. They frequently take a bundle of neckties, a parcel of gloves, or anything that will go in a small compass, and perhaps enter a jeweller’s shop, and in this way abstract a quantity of jewellery. On going there, they will ask a sight of some articles; the first will not suit them, and they will ask to look at more. When the shopman is engaged, they will abstract some gold rings or gold pins, or other property, sometimes a watch. Occasionally they will go so far as to leave a deposit on the article, promising to call again. They do this to prevent suspicion. After they are gone, the shopman may find several valuables missing.

Sometimes they will ring the changes. On entering the shop they will bring patterns of rings and other articles in the window, which they have got made as facsimiles from metal of an inferior quality. On looking at the jewellery they will ring the changes on the counter, and keep turning them over, and in so doing abstract the genuine article and leave the counterfeit in its place.

The statistics applicable to this class of felonies are comprised under those given when treating on “stealing from the doors and windows of shops.”

A Visit to the Dens of Thieves in Spitalfields and its Neighbourhood.

One afternoon, in company with a detective officer, we visited Spitalfields, one of the most notorious rookeries for infamous characters in the metropolis. Leaving Whitechapel, we went up a narrow alley called George Yard, where we saw four brothels of a very low description, the inmates being common thieves. On proceeding a little farther along the alley we passed eight or nine lodging-houses. Most of the lodgers were out prowling over the various districts of the metropolis, some picking pockets, others area-sneaking.

On entering into a public-house in another alley near Union Street, we came to one of the most dangerous thieves’ dens we have visited in the course of our rambles. As we approached the door of the house, we saw a dissipated looking man stealthily whispering outside the door to the ruffian-looking landlord, who appeared to be a fighting man, from his large coarse head and broken nose. The officer by our side hinted to us that the latter was a fence, or receiver of stolen property, and was probably speaking to his companion on some business of this nature. As we went forward they sneaked away, the one through a neighbouring archway, and the other into his house. We followed the latter into the public house, and found two or three brutal-looking men loafing about the bar. We passed through a small yard behind the house, where we found a number of fighting dogs chained to their kennels. Some were close to our feet as we passed along, and others, kept in an outhouse beside them, could almost snap at our face. We went to another outhouse beyond, where between thirty and forty persons were assembled round a wooden enclosure looking on, while some of their dogs were killing rats. They consisted of burglars, pickpockets, and the associates of thieves, along with one or two receivers of stolen property. Many of them were coarse and brutal in their appearance, and appeared to be in their element, as they urged on their dogs to destroy the rats, which were taken out one after another from a small wooden box. These men apparently ranged from twenty-two to forty years of age. Many of them had the rough stamp of the criminal in their countenances, and when inflamed with strong drink, would possibly be fit for any deed of atrocious villainy. Some of the dogs were strong and vigorous, and soon disposed of the rats as they ran round the wooden enclosure, surrounded by this redoubtable band of ruffians, who made the rafters ring with merriment when the dog caught hold of his prey, or when the rat turned desperate on its adversary. During the brief space of time we were present, a slim little half-starved dog killed several rats. When the rat was first let loose it was very nimble and vigorous in its movements, and the little dog kept for a time at a respectful distance, as the former was ready to snap at it. Sometimes the rat made as though it was to leap over the wooden fence to get away from the dog, but a dozen rough hands were ready to thrust it back. After it had got nearly exhausted with its ineffectual struggles to get away, the little dog seized it by the throat and worried it; when another rat was brought out to take its place, and another dog introduced to this brutal sport.

This is one of the most dangerous thieves’ dens we have seen in London. Were any unfortunate man to be inveigled into it in the evening, or at midnight, when the desperadoes who haunt it are inflamed with strong drink, he would be completely in their power, even were he the bravest soldier in the British service, and armed with a revolver. Were he to fight his way desperately through the large ferocious gang in this outhouse, the fighting-dogs in the yard might be let loose on him, and were he to cleave his way through them, he would have to pass through the public-house frequented by similar low characters.

Leaving this alley, we proceeded to Fashion Street, and entered a skittle-ground attached to a low beershop, where we saw another gang of thieves, to the number of about twelve. Some of them, though in rough costermonger’s dress, or in the dress of mechanics, are fashionable pickpockets, along with thieves of a coarser and lower description, who push against people in crowds, and snatch away their watches and property. One of them, a tall athletic young man, was pointed out to us as a very expert pickpocket. He was dressed in a dark frock coat, dark trousers and cap, and was busy hurling the skittleball with great violence. On our standing by for a little, he slouched his cap sulkily over his eyes and continued at his game. He had an intelligent countenance, but with a callous, bronze-like forbidding expression. Some of his companions were standing at the other end of the skittle-ground engaged in the sport, while the rest of his “pals” sat on a seat alongside and looked on, occasionally eyeing us with considerable curiosity. Some of them were very expert thieves.

In passing through Church Lane we met two young lads dressed like costermongers, and a young woman by their side in a light dirty cotton dress and black bonnet. They were pointed out to us as those base creatures who waylay, decoy, and plunder drunken men at night. We proceeded to Wentworth Street, and entered a large lodging-house of a very motley class of people, consisting of men working at the docks, prostitutes, and area-sneaks. We called at a house in George Street, principally occupied by females from eighteen to thirty years of age, all prostitutes. In Thrall Street we entered a lodging-house where we saw about thirty persons of both sexes, and of different ages, assembled, consisting chiefly of area-sneaks and pickpockets. Here we saw one prostitute, with a remarkably beautiful child on her knee, seated at her afternoon meal. In the tap-room of a public-house in Church Street we found a large party of thieves, consisting of burglars, pickpockets, and area-sneaks, along with several resetters, one of them a Jew. On the walls of the room were pictures of notorious pugilists, Tom Cribb and others. Several of them had the appearance of pugilists, in their bloated and bruised countenances, and most of them had a rough aspect, which we found to be a general characteristic of the Whitechapel thieves, as well as of most of the thieves we saw in the Borough, and at Lambeth. Two of the resetters, who appeared to be callous, politic men, sneaked off upon our seating ourselves beside them. One of the band, as we found on similar occasions, stood between us and the door flourishing a large clasp knife. We sat for some time over a glass of ale, and he slunk off to a corner and resumed his seat, finding his bullying attitude was of no avail. The Jewish resetter was very social and communicative as he sat on the table. The more daring of the band were also frank and good-humoured.

Being desirous to gain a more intimate acquaintance with the haunts of the London thieves, we were brought into communication with Mr. Price, inspector of the lodging-houses of this district, who accompanied us on several visits over the neighbourhood, one of the chief rookeries of thieves in London.

Before setting out on our inspection he gave us the following information:—

About twenty years ago a number of narrow streets, thickly populated with thieves, prostitutes, and beggars, were removed when New Commercial Street was formed, leading from Shoreditch in the direction of the London Docks, leaving a wide space in the midst of a densely populated neighbourhood, which is favourable to its sanatory condition, and might justly be considered one of the lungs of the metropolis. The rookery in Spitalfields we purposed to visit is comprised within a space of about 400 square yards. It is bounded by Church Street Whitechapel, East Brick Lane, and West Commercial Street, and contains 800 thieves, vagabonds, beggars, and prostitutes, a large proportion of whom may be traced to the old criminal inhabitants of the now extinct Essex Street and old Rose Lane.

For instance, a man and woman lived for many years in George Yard, Whitechapel, a narrow, dirty, and overcrowded street leading from Whitechapel into Wentworth Street. The man was usually seen among crowds of thieves, gambling and associating with them. As his family increased, in the course of time he took a beershop and lodging-house for thieves in Thrall Street. His family consisted of three boys and three girls. His wife usually addressed the young thieves as they left her lodging-house in the morning, in the hearing of her own children, in this manner; “Now, my little dears, do the best you can, and may God bless you!”

The following is a brief account of their children:—

The eldest son married a girl whose father died during his transportation. He and his wife gained their living by thieving, and were frequently in custody. At last he connected himself with burglars, was tried, convicted, and sentenced to six years’ penal servitude. He is now at Gibraltar, ten months of his sentence being unexpired. His wife has been left with three young children; since his transportation she has been frequently in custody for robbing drunken men, and has had an illegitimate child since her husband left. Her eldest daughter was taken from her about twelve months ago by Mr. Ashcroft, secretary of the Refuge Aid Society, and placed in a refuge in Albert Street, Mile End New Town, where the Society maintains her. The girl is eleven years of age, and appeared pleased that she was taken away from her filthy abode and bad companions in George Street. The second son has been repeatedly in custody for uttering base coin, and was at last convicted and transported for four years. The eldest daughter married a man, who also was transported, and is now a returned convict. She was apprehended, convicted, and sentenced to four years’ penal servitude. While in Newgate jail, she was delivered of twins, and received a reprieve, and has since been in custody for shoplifting.

We went with the inspector to Lower Keat Street, and entered a lodging-house there. Most of the inmates were male thieves, from twelve to nineteen years of age and upwards. The husband of the woman who keeps the house is a returned convict, and has been in custody for receiving stolen property from her lodgers.

We entered another lodging-house in this street, haunted by thieves of a lower class. An old woman was here employed as a deputy or servant, who formerly lived in Kent-street in the Borough, and kept a public-house there, a resort of thieves. She lived with a man there for twenty years and upwards, keeping a brothel, and was then and is now an old fence. We found a number of low thieves in the house at the time of our visit. The landlord has been in custody for having stolen handkerchiefs in his possession, with the marks taken out.

Opposite to this house is a public-house resorted to by thieves.

We then went to Lower George Street, where we entered a registered lodging-house. In three rooms we saw about ninety persons of both sexes and of various ages, many of them thieves and vagrants. This house is not used as a brothel, but some of the lodgers cohabit together as man and wife, which is common in these low neighbourhoods.

We went to a lodging-house in Flower-and-Dean Street, the keeper of which has been recently in prison for receiving from his lodgers. We saw a number of wretched mendicants here. One man had his leg bound up with rags. Many of the inmates gain their livelihood by begging, and others by thieving. Few honest persons reside here.

We next went to a brothel in Wentworth Street, kept by a woman, a notorious character. She has been repeatedly in custody for robbing drunken men, and her husband is now in prison for felony. She is a strong coarse-looking woman, with her countenance bearing marked traces of unbridled passion,—the type of person we would expect as the keeper of a low brothel. She had been stabbed on the cheek a few days previously by another woman, and bore the scar of the fresh wound at the time of our visit. The rooms of her house were wretchedly furnished, suitable to the low orgies transacted in this foul abode. One or two withered prostitutes were lounging about the kitchen.

We passed on to a lodging-house of a very different description, occupied by industrious honest working people, which we shall describe afterwards when we treat of an after-visit.

In this locality we visited the elderly woman living in this neighbourhood whom we have referred to as having blessed the young thieves. She had a very plausible condoling manner, as she sat with her two daughters by her side—one a young auburn-haired girl of about fourteen, with engaging countenance and handsome form, plainly but neatly dressed; the other, an ordinary-looking young woman, with a child in her arms.

We made another visit to this rookery with the inspector of police, and made a more minute survey of this remarkable district.

We went into a lodging-house in George Yard. The kitchen was about 35 feet in length, and had originally consisted of two rooms, the partition between them being removed. There was a fire-place in each; a group of people, men, lads, and boys were ranged along the long tables, many of them labourers at the docks.

The boys were better dressed than the wild young Arabs of the city, some of them in dark and brown coats and tartan and black caps. They sat on the forms along the sides of the tables, or lolled on seats by the fire. The apartments were papered, and ornamented with pictures. A picture of the Great Eastern steamship set in a frame was suspended over the mantelpiece; one boy sat with his head bound up, and another with his jacket off, and his white shirt sleeves exposed. The inmates consisted of beggars and dock-labourers seated around the ample kitchen, some busy at their different meals, and others engaged in conversation, which was suspended on our entrance. At the door we saw the deputy, a young man decently dressed. On our former visit we saw an old man with an ample unshorn beard, who works during the day as a crossing-sweeper. He had when young been engaged in seafaring life, and has now become an admirable picture of Fagin the Jew, as pictured by Charles Dickens. The beds are let here at 3d. a night. The people who usually lodge here are crossing-sweepers, bonepickers, and shoeblacks, &c.

We entered a house in Wentworth Street, and passed through a chandler’s shop into the kitchen, which is about 31 feet in length and 15 in breadth. There we found, as is usual in those lodging houses, a large fire blazing in the grate. The room had a wooden floor, and clothes were suspended on lines beneath the rafters. There were two large boilers on each side of the fire to supply the lodgers with hot water for coffee or tea. Tables were ranged around the wall on each side, and a motley company were seated around them. Numbers of them were busy at supper—coffee, bread, fish, and potatoes. An elderly man sat in the corner of the room cobbling a pair of old shoes with a candle nearly burned to the socket placed before him. Groups of elderly women were also clustered around the benches, some plainly but decently dressed, others in dirty tattered skirts and shabby shawls, with careworn, melancholy countenances. Some were middle-aged women, apparently the wives of some of the labourers there. A young man sat by their side, a respectable mechanic out of work.

Two young lads, vagrants, sat squatted by the fire, one of them equipped in dirty tartan trowsers, a shabby black frock-coat sadly torn, and brown bonnet. The other sat in his moleskin trowsers and shirt. At one of the tables several young women were seated at their tea, some good-looking, others very plain, with coarse features. An elderly woman, the servant of the establishment, stood by the fire with a towel over her bare brown arm.

The tables around were covered with plates, cups, and other crockery; caps, jackets, and other articles of dress.

While in this street the musical band of the ragged school at George Yard passed by, with the teacher at their head, and many of the scholars clustered around them, with other juveniles and people of the district. Knots of people were assembled in the streets as we passed along.

We entered several other lodging-houses in this locality, occupied by beggars, dock-labourers, prostitutes, and thieves, ballad-singers, and patterers of the lowest class.

We went into a house in George Street. The kitchen was also very large, about 36 feet long and 24 feet broad, and had two blazing fires to warm the apartment and cook the food. Tables were ranged round the room as in the other lodging-houses alluded to. There were about twenty-two people here, chiefly young of both sexes. There was one middle-aged bald-headed man among them. Many of them were sad and miserable. A young good-looking girl, not apparently above seventeen years of age, sat by the fire with a child in her arms. Many of the young women had a lowering countenance and dissipated look. Some of the young lads had a more pleasing appearance, dressed as costermongers.

The long tables were strewed with plates and bowls, cups and saucers. Some young men sat by reading the newspapers, others smoking their pipe and whiffing clouds of smoke around them. Some young women were sewing, others knitting; some busy at their supper, others lying asleep, crouching with their arms on the tables.

On going into another lodging-house we saw a number of people of both sexes, and of various ages, similar to those described. There we saw a woman about thirty, also engaged knitting, and another reading Reynolds’ Miscellany. A number of young lads of about seventeen years were smoking their pipe; another youth, a pickpocket, was reading a volume he had got from a neighbouring library. Most of the persons here were prostitutes, pickpockets, and sneaks. There were about fifteen present, chiefly young people.

On passing through Flower-and-Dean Street we saw a group of young lads and girls, all of them thieves, standing in the middle of the street.

We passed into another lodging-house, and entered the kitchen, which is about 30 feet long and 18 feet broad. A large fire was burning in the grate. On the one side of the kitchen were tables and forms, and the people seated around them at supper on bread and herring, tea and coffee. There were a number of middle-aged women among them. On the other side of the kitchen were stalls as in a coffee-shop. We saw several rough-looking men here. There was a rack on the wall covered with plates, ranged carefully in order. The tables were littered with heaps of bottles, jugs, books, bonnets, baskets, and shirts, like a broker’s shop.

An old gray-headed man sat at one of the tables with his hand on his temples, a picture of extreme misery, his trowsers old, greasy, and ragged, an old shabby ragged coat, and a pair of old torn shoes. His face was furrowed with age, care, and sorrow; his breast was bare, and his head bald in front. He had a long gray beard. His arms were thin and skinny, and the dark blue veins looked through the back of his hands. He was a poor vagrant, and told us he was eighty-eight years of age. There were about forty persons present of both sexes, and of various ages; many of them young, and others very old.

We passed on to Lower Keat Street, and on going into a low lodging-house there we saw a number of young prostitutes, pickpockets, and sneaks.

We visited another lodging-house of the lowest description, belonging to an infamous man whom we have already referred to. We were shown upstairs to a large room filled with beds, by a coarse-featured hideous old hag, with a dark moustache. Her hair was gray, and her face seamed and scarred with dark passions, as she stood before us with her protruding breasts and bloated figure. Her eyes were dark and muddy. She had two gold rings on one of her fingers, and was dressed in a dirty light cotton gown, sadly tattered, a red spotted soiled handkerchief round her neck, and a dirty light apron, almost black. On observing us looking at her, she remarked, “I am an old woman, and am not so young as I have been. Instead of enjoying the fruit of my hard-wrought life, some other person has done it.”

On examining one of the beds in the room, we found the bedding to consist of two rugs, two sheets and a flock bed, with a pillow and pillow case, let at 3d. a night. This house is registered for thirty lodgers. Young and middle-aged women, the lowest prostitutes, and thieves frequent this house; some with holes cut with disease into their brow. D——bl——n B——ll is the proprietor of this infamous abode. We saw him as we passed through the house: a sinister-looking, middle-aged man, about 5 feet 7 inches in height. On leaving the house, the old hag stood at the foot of the stair, with a candle in her hand, a picture of horrid misery.

In this locality we went into another infamous lodging-house, a haunt of prostitutes and thieves, mostly young. There was a very interesting boy here, respectably dressed, with a dark eye and well-formed placid countenance, a pickpocket. He told us his parents were dead, and he had no friends and no home. He did not show any desire to leave his disreputable life. Several of them were seated at their supper on herrings, plaice, butter, bread, and coffee.

We visited several of the more respectable lodging-houses in George Yard, to have a more complete view of the dwellings of the poor in this locality. We entered one lodging-house, and passed into the kitchen, 33 feet long by 18 feet broad. There were tables and forms planted round the room, as in the other lodging-houses noticed, and on the walls were shelves for crockery ware. There was a sink in the corner of the kitchen for washing the dishes, and a gasburner in the centre of the apartment. The kitchen was well ventilated at the windows. There was a large fire burning, with a boiler on each side of the fire-place. Over the mantelpiece was a range of bright coffee and tea pots. Coats were hung up on pegs against the wall, and a fender before the fire. Decent-looking men were seated around, some smoking, some writing, others eating a plain, but comfortable supper, others lounging on the seat, exhausted with the labours of the day. In out-houses were ample washing accommodation, and water-closets. Attached to this lodging-house was a reading-room. We went to the bed-rooms, and saw the accommodation and furniture. There were iron bedsteads with flock mattress and bed; on each bed were two sheets, one blanket, and a coverlet, a pillow-case, and a pillow. The bed-rooms were ventilated by a flue.

There is here accommodation for eighty-nine persons at 3d. a night, and there are on an average sixty lodgers each night. The rector of Christ Church visits and supplies the lodgers with tracts and religious services. A register is kept of all the people who lodge here. In this house Karls was apprehended, concerned with another party in the murder of Mrs. Halliday at Kingswood Rectory.

We visited another lodging-house in the same neighbourhood. The kitchen was large, with spacious windows in front. There was a large fireplace, with boiler and oven with a large hot plate. The lodgers had a respectable appearance—some in blue guernseys, and others in respectable dark dresses. There was also a reading-room here, with a dial over the mantelpiece. Some of the men were reading, and others engaged in writing. There was accommodation for washing, water-closets, and excellent beds. This house belongs to the same proprietor as the one already described. It is closed at 12 o’clock, while the others are kept open all night, and is generally frequented by respectable lodgers.

We also inspected another lodging-house in Thrall Street of a superior kind, where beds are to be had at 3½d. a night. There are two superior lodging-houses of the same character, kept by Mr. Wilmot and Mr. Argent, in Thrall Street and Osborne Place, at 3½d. and 4d. a night.

We thus find that alongside those low lodging-houses and brothels, in the very bosom of that low neighbourhood, there are respectable lodging-houses of different gradations in price and position, where working-people and strangers can be accommodated at 3d., 3½d., and 4d. a night, in which decency, cleanliness, and morality prevail.

In the course of our visits to Spitalfields we found two institutions of high value and special interest—a ragged school and a reformatory for young women. The ragged school was instituted by the Rev. Hugh Allen, the incumbent of St. Jude’s, in 1853. There are at present 350 ragged children of both sexes attending it, averaging from four to fifteen years of age. They are taught by Mr. Holland, a most intelligent and devoted teacher, who is exercising a powerful influence for good in that dark and criminal locality.

A female reformatory was lately instituted by the Rev. Mr. Thornton, the present incumbent of St. Jude’s, who labours with unwearied energy in this district. This asylum is in Wentworth Street, and is fitted to accommodate eighteen persons.

Narrative of a Pickpocket.

The following recital was given us by a young man who had till lately been an adroit pickpocket in various districts of London, but has now become a patterer for his livelihood. He is about the middle height, of sallow complexion, with a rich dark, penetrating eye, a moustache and beard. He is a man of tolerably good education, and has a most intelligent mind, well furnished with reading and general information. At the time we met him, he was rather melancholy and crushed in spirit, which he stated was the result of repeated imprisonments, and the anxiety and suspense connected with his wild criminal life, and the heavy trials he has undergone. The woman who cohabits with him was then in one of the London prisons, and he was residing in a low lodging-house in the west end of the metropolis. While giving us several exciting passages in his narrative, his countenance lightened up with intense interest and adventurous expression, though his general mien was calm and collected. As we endeavoured to inspire him with hope in an honest career, he mournfully shook his head as he looked forward to the difficulties in his path. He was then shabbily dressed in a dark frock-coat, dark trousers, and cap. We give his narrative almost verbatim:—

“I was born in a little hamlet, five miles from Shrewsbury, in the county of Shropshire, in October 1830, and am now thirty-one years of age. My father was a Wesleyan minister, and died in 1854, after being subject to the yellow jaundice for five or six years, during which time he was not able to officiate. My mother was a Yorkshire woman, and her father kept a shoemaker’s shop in the town of Full Sutton. I had two brothers, one of them older and the other younger than I, and a sister two years younger.

“I went to school to learn to write and cipher, and had before this learned to read at home with my father and mother. We had a very happy home, and very strict in the way of religion. I believe that my father would on no account tolerate such a thing as stopping out after nine o’clock at night, and have heard my mother often say that all the time she was wedded to him, she never had known him the worse of liquor. My father had family worship every night between 8 and 9 o’clock, when the curtains were drawn over the windows, the candle was lighted, and each of the children was taught to kneel separately at prayer. After reading the Bible and half an hour’s conversation, each one retired to their bed. In the morning my father would get up and attend to a small pony he had, and when I was very young we had a stout girl who milked the cow and did the dairy and household work. The house we lived in was my grandfather’s property, but being a man very fond of money, my father paid him the rent as if he had been a stranger.

“There were two acres of land attached to the house, as nearly as I can recollect; about half an acre was kept in cultivation as a garden, and the other was tilled and set apart for the pony and cow.

“Our people were much respected in the neighbourhood. If there were any bickerings among the neighbours, they came to my father to settle them, and anything he said they generally yielded to without a murmur. In the winter time, when work was slack among the poor labouring people, though my father had little himself to give, he got money from others to distribute among those who were the most deserving. I lived very happy and comfortable at home, but always compelled, though against my own inclination, to go twice to service on the Sunday, and twice during the week (Tuesday and Friday). I always seemed to have a rebellious nature against these religious services, and they were a disagreeable task to me, though my father took more pains with me than with my brothers and sister. I always rebelled against this in my heart, though I did not display it openly.

“I was a favourite with my father, perhaps more so than any of the others. For example, if Wombwell’s menagerie would come to Shrewsbury for a short time, he would have taken me instead of my brothers to visit it, and would there speak of the wonders of God and of his handiwork in the creation of animals. Everything that he said and did was tinged with religion, and religion of an ascetic argumentative turn. It was a kind of religion that seemed to banish eternally other sects from happiness and from heaven.

“My mind at this time was injured by the narrow religious prejudices I saw around me. We often had ministers to dinner and supper at our house, and always after their meals the conversation would be sure to turn into discussions on the different points of doctrine. I can recollect as well now as though it were yesterday the texts used on the various sides of the question, and the stress laid on different passages to uphold their arguments. At this time I would be sitting there greedily drinking in every word, and as soon as they were gone I would fly to the Bible and examine the different texts of Scripture they had brought forward, and it seemed to produce a feeling in my mind that any religious opinions could be plausibly supported by it. The arguments on these occasions generally hinged on two main points, predestination and election. My father’s opinions were those of the Wesleyan creed, the salvation of all through the blood of Christ.

“These continual discussions seemed to steel my heart completely against religion. They caused me to be very disobedient and unruly, and led to my falling out with my grandfather, who had a good deal of property that was expected to come to our family. Though I was young, he bitterly resented this. In 1839 he was accidentally drowned, and it was found when his will was opened that I was not mentioned in it. The whole of his property was left to my father, with the exception of four houses, which he had an interest in till my brothers and sister arrived at the age of twenty-one. Again the property that was left to my father for the whole of his life he had no power to will away at his death, as it went to a distant relative of my grandfather’s.

“This was the first cause of my leaving home. It seemed to rankle in my boyish mind that I was a black sheep, something different from my brothers and sister.

“After being several times spoken to by my father about my quarrelsome disposition with my brothers and sister, I threatened, young as I was, to burn the house down the first opportunity I got. This threat, though not uttered in my father’s hearing, came to his ear, and he gave me a severe beating for it, the first time he ever corrected me. This was in the summer of 1840, in the end of May. I determined to leave home, and took nothing away but what belonged to me. I had four sovereigns of pocket money, and the suit of clothes I had on and a shirt. I walked to Shrewsbury and took the coach to London. When I got to London I had neither friend nor acquaintance. I first put up in a coffee-shop in the Mile End Road, and lodged there for seven weeks, till my money was nearly all spent.

“During this time my clothes had been getting shabby and dirty, having no one to look after me. After being there for seven weeks I went to a mean lodging-house at Field Lane, Holborn. There I met with characters I had never seen before, and heard language that I had not formerly heard. This was about July, 1840, and I was about ten years of age the ensuing October. I stopped there about three weeks doing nothing. At the end of that time I was completely destitute.

“The landlady took pity on me as a poor country boy who had been well brought up, and kept me for some days longer after my money was done. During these few days I had very little to eat, except what was given me by some of the lodgers when they got their own meals. I often thought at that time of my home in the country, and of what my father and mother might be doing, as I had never written to them since the day I had first left my home.

“I sometimes was almost tempted to write to them and let them know the position I was in, as I knew they would gladly send me up money to return home, but my stubborn spirit was not broke then. After being totally destitute for two or three days, I was turned out of doors, a little boy in the great world of London, with no friend to assist me, and perfectly ignorant of the ways and means of getting a living in London.

“I was taken by several poor ragged boys to sleep in the dark arches of the Adelphi. I often saw the boys follow the male passengers when the halfpenny boats came to the Adelphi stairs, i.e., the part of the river almost opposite to the Adelphi Theatre. I could not at first make out the meaning of this, but I soon found they generally had one or two handkerchiefs when the passengers left. At this time there was a prison-van in the Adelphi arches, without wheels, which was constructed different from the present prison-van, as it had no boxes in the interior. The boys used to take me with them into the prison-van. There we used to meet a man my companions called ‘Larry.’ I knew him by no other name for the time. He used to give almost what price he liked for the handkerchiefs. If they refused to give them at the price he named, he would threaten them in several ways. He said he would get the other boys to drive them away, and not allow them to get any more handkerchiefs there. If this did not intimidate them, he would threaten to give them in charge, so that at last they were compelled to take whatever price he liked to give them.