OF "duffers" and "lumpers," as regards the sale of textile fabrics, there are generally, I am informed, about in London. At such times as Epsom, Ascot-heath, or Goodwood races, however, there is, perhaps, not . All have departed to prey, if possible, upon the countrymen. of them are Jews, and the majority of the others are Irishmen. They are generally dressed as sailors, and some wear either fur caps, or cloth ones, with gilt bands round them, as if they were the mates or stewards of ships. They look out for any likely victim at public-houses, and sometimes accost persons in the streets— looking carefully about them, and hint that they are smugglers, and have the finest and cheapest "Injy" handkerchiefs ever seen. These goods are now sold in "pieces" of handkerchiefs. When times were better, I was told, they were in pieces of , , and . street-seller said to me, "Yes, I know the 'duffers;' all of them. They do more business than you might think. Everybody likes a smuggled thing; and I should say these men, each of the 'duffers,' tops his a week, clear profit." I am assured that of the classes most numerously victimised is a body who generally account themselves pretty sharp, viz. gentlemen's grooms, and coachmen at the several mews. Sailors are the best customers, and the vicinity of the docks the best locality for this trade; for the hawker of pretended smuggled goods always does most business among the "tars." The mock handkerchiefs are damped carefully with a fine sponge, before they are offered for sale; and they are often strongly perfumed, some of the Jews supplying cheap perfumes, or common "scents." When the "duffer" thinks he may venture upon the assertion, he assures a customer that this is "the smell the handkerchiefs brought with 'em from foreign parts, as they was smuggled in a bale of spices!"

The "pieces" of handkerchiefs sold by the "duffers" are purchased by them in , at from to ; but is only given when there is a design to palm off the goods along with them. Cent. per cent. is a low profit in this trade.

intelligent street-trader, to whom I am indebted for carefully-considered information, said to me very quietly: "I've read your work, sir, at a coffee-shop; for I can't afford to take it in. I know you're going to open the eyes of the public as to the 'duffer's' tricks, now. All right, sir, they're in honest men's ways. But, sir, when are you going to say something about the rich shopkeepers as sells, and the rich manufacturers as makes, the 'duffer's' things? Every man of them knows it's for roguery."

There is a peculiar style among the "duffers;" they never fold their goods neatly—the same as drapers do, but thrust them into the pack, in a confused heap, as if they did not understand their value—or their business. There are other classes of "duffers" whose calling is rather more hazardous than the licensed-hawker "duffer." "I have often thought it strange," says a correspondent, "that these men could induce any to credit the fact of their being sailors, for, notwithstanding the showy manner in which they chew their quid, and the jack-tar like fashion in which they suffer their whiskers to grow, there is such a freshwaterfied appearance about them, that they look no more like a regular mariner than the supernumerary seamen in a nautical drama, at the Victoria Theatre. Yet they obtain victims readily. Their mode of proceeding in the streets is to accost their intended dupes, while walking by their side; they usually speak in a half whisper, as they keep pace with them, and look mysteriously around to see if there be any of 'them ere Custom-house sharks afloat.' They address the simple-looking passers by thus: 'Shipmate' (here they take off their fur-cap and spit their quid into it)—'shipmate, I've just come ashore arter a long voyage— and splice me but I've something in the locker that 'll be of service to you; and, shiver my timbers' (they are very profuse in nautical terms), 'you shall have it at your own price, for I'm determined to have a spree, and I haven't a shot in the locker; helm's a-lee; just let's turn into this creek, and I'll show you what it is' (perhaps he persuades his dupe down a court, or to a neighbouring public-house). 'Now here is a beautiful piece of handkerchiefs.' (They are the coarsest description of spun not silk, well stiffened into stoutness, and cost the "duffer" perhaps each; but as business is always done on the sly, in a hurry, and to escape observation, an examination seldom or never takes place). 'I got 'em on shore in spite of those pirates, the Custom-house officers. You shall have 'em cheap, there's half a dozen on 'em, they cost me at Madras, you shall have 'em for the same money.' (The victim, may be, is not inclined to purchase. The pretended tar, however, must have money.) 'Will you give me for them?' he says; 'd—n it, a pound? Shiver my topsails, you don't want them any cheaper than that, do you!' The 'duffer' says this to make his dupe believe that he really does want the goods, or has offered a price for them. Perhaps if the 'duffer' cannot extort more he takes for the half dozen 'Ingy' handkerchiefs, the profit being thus about ; but more frequently he gets and even per cent. on his transactions according to the gullibility of his customers. The 'duffer' deals also in cigars; he accosts his victim in the same style as when selling handkerchiefs, and gives himself the same sailor-like airs.

Sometimes the 'duffers' visit the obscure streets in London, where there are small chandlers' shops; one of them enters, leaving his mate outside to give him the signal in case the enemy heaves in sight. He requests to be served with some trifling article—when if he approve of the physiognomy of the shopkeeper, and consider him or her likely to be victimised—he ventures an observation as to how enormously everything is taxed' (though to one less innocent it might appear unusual for a sailor to talk politics); 'even this 'ere baccy' he says, taking out his quid, 'I can't chew, without paying a tax; but, he adds, chuckling—'us sailor chaps sometimes shirks the Custom-house lubbers, sharp as they are. (Here his companion outside puts his head in at the door, and, to make the scene as natural as possible, says, 'Come, Jack, don't stop there all night spinning your yarns; come, bear a hand, or I shall part convoy.') 'Oh, heave to a bit longer, my hearty,' replies the 'duffer,' 'I will be with you in the twinkling of a marling spike. I'll tell you what we've got, marm, and if you likes to buy it you shall have it cheap, for me and my mate are both short of rhino. We've half-a-dozen pounds of tea—you can weigh it if you like—and you shall have the lot for 12s.' Perhaps there is an immediate purchase, but if 12s. is refused, then 10s. 8s. or 6s. is asked, until a sale be effected, after which the sailors make their exit as quickly as possible. Then the chandler's-shop keeper begins to exult over the bargain he or she has made, and to examine more minutely the contents of the neatly packed, and tea-like looking packet thus bought. It proves to be lined with a profuse quantity of tea lead, and though some Chinese characters are marked on the outside, it is discovered on opening to contain only half-a-pound of tea, the remainder consisting principally of chopped hay. The 'duffers' enact the same part, and if a purchaser buy 10 lbs. of the smuggled article, then 9 lbs. at least consist of the same chopped hay.

Sometimes the 'duffers' sell all their stock to one individual. No sooner do they dispose of the handkerchiefs to a dupe, than they introduce the smuggled tobacco to the notice of the unsuspecting customer; then they palm off their cigars, next their tea, and lastly, as the 'duffer' is determined to raise as much money as he can 'to have his spree;' 'why d—e,' he exclaims to his victim—'I'll sell you my watch. It cost me 6l. at Portsmouth—give me 3l. for it and it's yours, shipmate. Well, then, 2l.—— 1l.' The watch, I need not state, is made solely for sale.

It is really astonishing," adds my informant, "how these men ever succeed, for their look denotes cunning and imposition, and their proceedings have been so often exposed in the newspapers that numbers are alive to their tricks, and warn others when they perceive the "duffers" endeavouring to victimise them; but, as the thimble-men say, "There's a fool born every minute.