We have now had an inkling of the London costermonger's notions upon politics and religion. We have seen the brutified state in which he is allowed by society to remain, though possessing the same faculties and susceptibilities as ourselves—the same power to perceive and admire the forms of truth, beauty, and goodness, as even the very highest in the state. We have witnessed how, instinct with all the elements of manhood and beasthood, the qualities of the beast are principally developed in him, while those of the man are stunted in their growth. It now remains for us to look into some other matters concerning this curious class of people, and, , of their literature:

It may appear anomalous to speak of the literature of an uneducated body, but even the costermongers have their tastes for books. They are very fond of hearing any read aloud to them, and listen very attentively. man often reads the Sunday paper of the beer-shop to them, and on a fine summer's evening a costermonger, or any neighbour who has the advantage of being "a schollard," reads aloud to them in the courts they inhabit. What they love best to listen to—and, indeed, what they are most eager for—are Reynolds's periodicals, especially the "Mysteries of the Court." "They've got tired of Lloyd's blood-stained stories," said man, who was in the habit of reading to them, "and I'm satisfied that, of all London, Reynolds is the most popular man among them. They stuck to him in , and would again. They all say he's 'a trump,' and Feargus O'Connor's another trump with them.'"

intelligent man considered that the spirit of curiosity manifested by costermongers, as regards the information or excitement derived from hearing stories read, augured well for the improvability of the class.

Another intelligent costermonger, who had recently read some of the cheap periodicals to or men, women, and boys, all costermongers, gave me an account of the comments made by his auditors. They had assembled, after their day's work or their rounds, for the purpose of hearing my informant read the last number of some of the penny publications.

"The costermongers," said my informant, "are very fond of illustrations. I have known a man, what couldn't read, buy a periodical what had an illustration, a little out of the common way perhaps, just that he might learn from some , who read, what it was all about. They have all heard of Cruikshank, and they think everything funny is by him—funny scenes in a play and all. His 'Bottle' was very much admired. I heard man say it was very prime, and showed what 'lush' did, but I saw the same man," added my informant, "drunk hours afterwards. Look you here, sir," he continued, turning over a periodical, for he had the number with him, "here's a portrait of 'Catherine of Russia.' 'Tell us all about her,' said man to me last night; read it; what was she?' When I had read it," my informant continued, "another man, to whom I showed it, said, 'Don't the cove as did that know a deal?' for they fancy—at least, a many do—that man writes a whole periodical, or a whole newspaper. Now here," proceeded my friend, "you see's an engraving of a man hung up, burning over a fire, and some costers would go mad if they couldn't learn what he'd been doing, who he was, and all about him. 'But about the picture?' they would say, and this is a very common question put by them whenever they see an engraving.

Here's of the passages that took their fancy wonderfully," my informant observed:

With glowing cheeks, flashing eyes, and palpitating bosom, Venetia Trelawney rushed back into the refresh ment-room, where she threw herself into one of the arm-chairs already noticed. But scarcely had she thus sunk down upon the flocculent cushion, when a sharp click, as of some mechanism giving way, met her ears; and at the same instant her wrists were caught in manacles which sprang out of the arms of the treacherous chair, while two steel bands started from the richlycarved back and grasped her shoulders. A shriek burst from her lips—she struggled violently, but all to no purpose: for she was a captive—and powerless!

We should observe that the manacles and the steel bands which had thus fastened upon her, were covered with velvet, so that they inflicted no positive injury upon her, nor even produced the slightest abrasion of her fair and polished skin.

Here all my audience," said the man to me, "broke out with—'Aye! that's the way the harristocrats hooks it. There's nothing o' that sort among us; the rich has all that barrikin to themselves.' 'Yes, that's the b—— way the taxes goes in,' shouted a woman.

"Anything about the police sets them a talking at once. This did when I read it:

The Ebenezers still continued their fierce struggle, and, from the noise they made, seemed as if they were tearing each other to pieces, to the wild roar of a chorus of profane swearing. The alarm, as Bloomfield had predicted, was soon raised, and some two or three policemen, with their bull's-eyes, and still more effective truncheons, speedily restored order.

'The blessed crushers is everywhere,' shouted . 'I wish I'd been there to have had a shy at the eslops,' said another. And then a man sung out: 'O, don't I like the Bobbys?'

"If there's any foreign language which can't be explained, I've seen the costers," my informant went on, "annoyed at it—quite annoyed. Another time I read part of of Lloyd's numbers to them—but they like something spicier. article in them—here it is—finishes in this way:

The social habits and costumes of the Magyar

noblesse

have almost all the characteristics of the corresponding class in Ireland. This word

noblesse

is

one

of wide signification in Hungary; and

one

may with great truth say of this strange nation, that '

qui n'est point noble n'est rien.

'

'I can't tumble to that barrikin,' said a young fellow; 'it's a jaw-breaker. But if this here— what d'ye call it, you talk about—was like the Irish, why they was a rum lot.' 'Noblesse,' said a man that's considered a clever fellow, from having once learned his letters, though he can't

From other quarters I learned that some of the costermongers who were able to read, or loved to listen to reading, purchased their literature in a very commercial spirit, frequently buying the periodical which is the largest in size, because when "they've got the reading out of it," as they say, "it's worth a halfpenny for the barrow."

Tracts they will rarely listen to, but if any persevering man read tracts, and state that he does it for their benefit and improvement, they listen without rudeness, though often with evident unwillingness. "Sermons or tracts," said of their body to me, "gives them the 'orrors." Costermongers purchase, and not unfrequently, the number of a penny periodical, "to see what it's like."

The tales of robbery and bloodshed, of heroic, eloquent, and gentlemanly highwaymen, or of gipsies turning out to be nobles, now interest the costermongers but little, although they found great delight in such stories a few years back. Works relating to Courts, potentates, or "harristocrats," are the most relished by these rude people.