THE earnings of the costermonger—the next subject of inquiry that, in due order, presents itself—vary as much as in more fashionable callings, for he is greatly dependent on the season, though he may be little affected by London being full or empty.

Concurrent testimony supplied me with the following estimate of their earnings. I cite the average earnings (apart from any charges or drawbacks), of the most staple commodities:

In January and February the costers generally sell fish. In these months the wealthier of the street fishmongers, or those who can always command "money to go to market," enjoy a kind of monopoly. The wintry season renders the supply of fish dearer and less regular, so that the poorer dealers cannot buy "at hand," and sometimes cannot be supplied at all; while the others monopolise the fish, more or less, and will not sell it to any of the other street-dealers until a profit has been realised out of their own regular customers, and the demand partially satisfied. "Why, I've known man sell worth of fish — most of it mackarel — at his stall in ," said a costermonger to me, "and all in snowy day, in last January. It was very stormy at that time, and fish came in unregular, and he got a haul. I've known him sell worth in an hour, and once worth, for I then helped at his stall. If people has dinner parties they must have fish, and gentlemen's servants came to buy. The earnings however of those that "go rounds" in these months are computed not to exceed a week; Monday and Saturday being days of little trade in fish.

March is dreadful," said an itinerant fish seller to me; "we don't average, I'm satisfied, more nor 4s. a week. I've had my barrow idle for a week sometimes — at home every day, though it had to be paid for, all the same. At the latter end of March, if it's fine, it's 1s. a week better, because there's flower roots in— 'all a-growing,' you know, sir. And that lasts until April, and we then make above 6s. a week. I've heard people say when I've cried 'all agrowing' on a fine-ish day, 'Aye, now summer's a-coming.' I wish you may get it, says I to myself; for I've studied the seasons.

In May the costermonger's profit is greater. He vends fresh fish—of which there is a greater supply and a greater demand, and the fine and often not very hot weather insures its freshness— and he sells dried herrings and "roots" (as they are called) such as wall-flowers and stocks. The average earnings then are from to a week.

In June, new potatoes, peas, and beans tempt the costermongers' customers, and then his earnings rise to a week. In addition to this , if the season allow, a costermonger at the end of the week, I was told by an experienced hand, "will earn an extra if he has anything of a round," "Why, I've cleared myself," he added, "on a Saturday night."

In July cherries are the principal article of traffic, and then the profit varies from to

In August, the chief trading is in Orleans plums, green-gages, apples and pears, and in this month the earnings are from to a day. [I may here remark that the costermongers care little to deal in either vegetables or fish, "when the fruit's in," but they usually carry a certain supply of vegetables all the year round, for those customers who require them.]

In September apples are vended, and about a day made.

In October "the weather gets cold," I was told, "and the apples gets fewer, and the day's work's over at ; we then deals most in fish, such as soles; there's a good bit done in oysters, and we may make or a day, but it's uncertain."

In November fish and vegetables are the chief commodities, and then from to a day is made; but in the latter part of the month an extra or a day may be cleared, as sprats come in and sell well when newly introduced.

In December the trade is still principally in fish, and or a day is the costermonger's earnings. Towards the close of the month he makes rather more, as he deals in new oranges and lemons, holly, ivy, &c., and in Christmas week he makes or a day.

These calculations give an average of about a week, when a man pursues his trade regularly. man calculated it for me at average the year through—that is supposing, of course, that the larger earnings of the summer are carefully put by to eke out the winter's income. This, I need hardly say, is never done. Prudence is a virtue, which is comparatively unknown to the London costermongers. They have no knowledge of savings'--banks; and to expect that they themselves should keep their money by them untouched for months (even if they had the means of so doing) is simply to expect impossibilities—to look for the continued withstanding of temptation among a class who are unused to the least moral or prudential restraint.

costers, I am told, make upwards of a week all the year round; but allowing for cessations in the street-trade, through bad weather, neglect, ill-health, or casualty of any kind, and taking the more prosperous costers with the less successful — the English with the Irish — the men with the women—perhaps a week may be a fair average of the earnings of the entire body the year through.

These earnings, I am assured, were years ago at least per cent higher; some said they made half as much again: "I can't make it out how it is," said man, "but I remember that I could go out and sell bushel of fruit in a day, when sugar was-dear, and now, when sugar's cheap, I can't sell bushel on the same round. Perhaps we want thinning."

Such is the state of the working-classes; say all the costers, they have little or no money to spend. "Why, I can assure you," declared of the parties from whom I obtained much important information, "there's my missis—she sits at the corner of the street with fruit. years ago she would have taken out of that street on a Saturday, and last Saturday week she had bushel of apples, which cost She was out from in the morning till at night, and all she took that day was Go to whoever you will, you will hear much upon the same thing." Another told me, "The costers are often obliged to sell the things for what they gave for them. The people haven't got money to lay out with them—they tell us so; and if they are poor we must be poor too. If we can't get a profit upon what goods we buy with our stock-money, let it be our own or anybody's else, we are compelled to live upon it, and when that's broken into, we must either go to the workhouse or starve. If we go to the workhouse, they'll give us a piece of dry bread, and abuse us worse than dogs." Indeed, the whole course of my narratives shows how the costers generally— though far from universally—complain of the depressed state of their trade. The following statement was given to me by a man who, for years, had been a stall-keeper in a streetmarket. It shows to what causes he (and I found others express similar opinions) attributes the depression:—

I never knew things so bad as at present— never! I had six prime cod-fish, weighing 15lbs. to 20lbs. each, yesterday and the day before, and had to take two home with me last night, and lost money on the others—besides all my time, and trouble, and expense. I had 100 herrings, too, that cost 3s.—prime quality, and I only sold ten out of them in a whole day. I had two pads of soles, sir, and lost 4s.—that is one pad—by them. I took only 4s. the first day I laid in this stock, and only 2s. 6d. the next; I then had to sell for anything I could get, and throw some away. Yet, people say mine's a lazy, easy life. I think the fall off is owing to meat being so cheap, 'cause people buy that rather than my goods, as they think there's more stay in it. I'm afeard things will get worse too." (He then added by way of sequitur, though it is difficult to follow the reasoning,) "If this here is freetrade, then to h— with it, I say!