He stands at the corner of ---- street, where the yellow omnibuses
stop, and refers to himself every now and then as the “poor lame man.”
He has no especial mode of addressing the passers-by, except that of
hobbling a step or two towards them and sweeping away an imaginary
accumulation of mud. He has lost one leg (from the knee) by a fall from
a scaffold, while working as a bricklayer’s labourer in Wales, some
six years ago; and speaks bitterly of the hard time he had of it when
he first came to London, and hobbled about selling matches. He says he
is thirty-six, but looks more than fifty; and his face has the ghastly
expression of death. He wears the ordinary close cloth street-cap and
corduroy trousers. Even during the warm weather he wears an upper
coat--a rough thick garment, fit for the Arctic regions. It was very
difficult to make him understand my object in getting information from
him: he thought that he had nothing to tell, and laid great stress upon
the fact of his never keeping “count” of anything.
He accounted for his miserably small income by stating that he was an
invalid--“now and thin continually.” He said--
“I can’t say how long I have been on this crossin’; I think about five
year. When I came on it there had been no one here before. No one
interferes with me at all, at all. I niver hard of a crossin’ bein’
sould; but I don’t know any other sweepers. I makes no fraydom with no
one, and I always keeps my own mind.
“I dunno how much I earn a-day--p’rhaps I may git a shilling, and
p’rhaps sixpence. I didn’t git much yesterday (Sunday)--only sixpence.
I was not out on Saturday; I was ill in bed, and I was at home on
Friday. Indeed, I did not get much on Thursday, only tuppence ha’penny.
The largest day? I dunno. Why, about a shilling. Well, sure, I might
git as much as two shillings, if I got a shillin’ from a lady. Some
gintlemen are good--such a gintleman as you, now, might give me a
shilling.
“Well, as to weather, I likes half dry and half wit; of course I wish
for the bad wither. Every one must be glad of what brings good to him;
and, there’s one thing, I can’t make the wither--I can’t make a fine
day nor a wit one. I don’t think anybody would interfere with me;
certainly, if I was a blaggya’rd I should not be left here; no, nor if
I was a thief; but if any other man was to come on to my crossing, I
can’t say whether the police _would_ interfere to protect me--p’rhaps
they might.
“What is it I say to shabby people? Well, by J----, they’re all shabby,
I think. I don’t see any difference; but what can I do? I can’t insult
thim, and I was niver insulted mysilf, since here I’ve been, nor, for
the matter of that, ever had an angry worrud spoken to me.
“Well, sure, I dunno who’s the most liberal; if I got a fourpinny bit
from a moll I’d take it. Some of the ladies are very liberal; a good
lady will give a sixpence. I never hard of sweepin’ the mud back again;
and as for the boys annoying me, I has no coleaguein’ with boys, and
they wouldn’t be allowed to interfere with me--the police wouldn’t
allow it.
“After I came from Wales, where I was on one leg, selling matches,
then it was I took to sweep the crossin’. A poor divil must put up
with anything, good or bad. Well, I was a laborin’ man, a bricklayer’s
labourer, and I’ve been away from Ireland these sixteen year. When I
came from Ireland I went to Wales. I was there a long time; and the
way I broke my leg was, I fell off a scaffold. I am not married; a
lame man wouldn’t get any woman to have him in London at all, at all.
I don’t know what age I am. I am not fifty, nor forty; I think about
thirty-six. No, by J----, it’s not mysilf that iver knew a well-off
crossin’-sweeper. I don’t dale in them at all.
“I got a dale of friends in London assist me (but only now and thin).
If I depinded on the few ha’pence I get, I wouldn’t live on ’em; what
money I get here wouldn’t buy a pound of mate; and I wouldn’t live,
only for my frinds. You see, sir, I can’t be out always. I am laid
up nows and thins continually. Oh, it’s a poor trade to big on the
crossin’ from morning till night, and not get sixpence. I couldn’t do
with it, I know.
“Yes, sir, I smoke; it’s a comfort, it is. I like any kind I’d get to
smoke. I’d like the best if I got it.
“I am a Roman Catholic, and I go to St. Patrick’s, in St. Giles’s; a
many people from my neighbourhood go there. I go every Sunday, and to
Confession just once a-year--that saves me.
“By the Lord’s mercy! I don’t get broken victuals, nor broken mate, not
as much as you might put on the tip of a forruk; they’d chuck it out in
the dust-bin before they’d give it to me. I suppose they’re all alike.
“The divil an odd job I iver got, master, nor knives to clane. If I got
their knives to clane, p’rhaps I might clane them.
“My brooms cost threepence ha’penny; they are very good. I wear them
down to a stump, and they last three weeks, this fine wither. I niver
got any ould clothes--not but I want a coat very bad, sir.
“I come from Dublin; my father and mother died there of cholera; and
when they died, I come to England, and that was the cause of my coming.
“By my oath it didn’t stand me in more than eighteenpence that I took
here last week.
“I live in ---- lane, St. Giles’s Church, on the second landing, and I
pay eightpence a week. I haven’t a room to mysilf, for there’s a family
lives in it wid me.
“When I goes home I just smokes a pipe, and goes to bid, that’s all.”