that time of day than at any other. The thieves always go two together for this work. One carries the base coin, but never attempts to pass any; the “pitcher” does the passing in the shops, and takes care never to enter a shop with more than one base coin upon him; so that if he comes to grief, the police find only one counterfeit upon him, and this he professes to have taken in the way of trade. Wherever a man is detected passing spurious gold or silver, his pal, the “swagsman,” is always close by. He carries all the base money, together with the small purchases which the pitcher makes in order to get rid of the “snide.” A first-class “pitcher” will do nothing lower than half-a-crown, and generally prefers gold. There is one method of passing base gold which I think would deceive any person not in the secret. The thief enters the shop with the intention of passing a bad sovereign. He makes a small purchase amounting to about eighteenpence, and offers a good sovereign in payment. The shopkeeper tests the coin, finds it to be good, and gives the thief his proper change. After receiving his change, the thief says, “Well, really it is a pity to deprive you of all this change; and, now I come to think of it, I know I have some small change about me.” The thief gives back the change, the shopkeeper returns the sovereign, which the thief puts into his pocket. He then searches for his small change, and on counting it finds that he has not quite enough, and must, after all, change his sovereign. He takes the golden coin out of his pocket again, and puts it into the hand of the shopkeeper. The tradesman has already rung and tested the sovereign, again gives the thief his change, and he walks quietly away. Nevertheless the shopkeeper is duped, and he has taken a bad sovereign. When the thief gave the sovereign the second time, he took a bad one which he kept ready in the same pocket with the good one.
Women are also very expert in passing base coin. They will go two together into a shop, make some purchases, tender a good sovereign in payment, and take their departure. In about a week after the purchase these two modest-looking and soberly dressed women return to the shop. They are very sorry to trouble the shopkeeper, but he gave them—by mistake, no doubt—a bad half-sovereign in change a week ago. The whole case is then gone into. They call to the shopman’s memory their having been in the shop a week ago; where they stood, what they bought, and who served them. A shopkeeper will occasionally, under such circumstances, take the bad half-sovereign, and give them a good one in exchange, rather than have any disturbance.
It is to be feared that a great many other people besides the professional thieves are concerned in passing bad money. Races, fairs, agricultural and other shows, furnish ample opportunity for this wretched trade. If any one doubts this, let him pass through some of these scenes, and change a few sovereigns here and there, as he goes along. He will soon find more base coin in his pockets than is agreeable. The thieves give the cab drivers and omnibus “cads” credit for a good stroke of business in base-coin transactions. The hotel waiters are classed in the same category. In times of popular gathering some of these waiters prepare themselves to reap a wicked harvest. They are said to have base coin in one pocket and good in the other. If they are serving a regular visitor to the inn, they go to the good pocket, but for the chance-customers and strangers in general the bad pocket is the bank of exchange.
The “magsmen” consider themselves the aristocracy of the criminal profession; they generally abstain from crimes of gross violence, and rely upon sharp tricks for their success. And it must be said that if people would avoid gambling, and be content to look well after their own, the swindling and card-sharping thieves would soon become extinct. A magsman is obliged to put on a respectable appearance, to keep cool, dress in many different characters, and act many different parts. Sometimes he is a foolish and green young man from the country, sometimes he is a respectable gentleman with a small estate, but he always seems to have plenty of money, and to know or care very little about its value. A magsman’s outfit consists of plenty of dresses and artificial whiskers and wigs, so that he may be one character to-day, and a different one to-morrow. His purse is well stored with Californian sovereigns, and his pocket-book is lined with spurious bills and flash notes. We engrave specimens of the two most popular flash notes. This paper-money the magsman takes care to parade before the eyes of his intended victim, who cannot without a close inspection perceive that the showy paper is only “flash.” Thus equipped, the magsman is ready for any customer that comes to hand.
A gang of three or four magsmen generally work together. They will enter a railway train from different stations, dress in different characters, and keep up the pretence of being unknown to each other. They soon get into conversation and begin to gamble among themselves; winning, losing, and gaily paying the stakes in flash money. The strangers in the carriage get excited, and begin to make small bets over “cutting the cards.” I once asked a magsman how they contrived to induce strangers to play with them. “Oh,” said he, “it needs no contrivance. It’s human nature over again. They covet what is not their own. They look at our flash money, and stretch out their hand to gather the forbidden fruit, and we fleece them.” No stranger has the slightest chance of success with a mob of magsmen in a railway carriage. The flat can never win, though to his own eyes it may seem impossible for him to lose. The cards are “doctored,” and the magsman’s sleight-of-hand is wonderful. I once got one of them to show me some tricks, but he did them so neatly and quickly that I could not detect the act after it was explained, though when I lifted the card surely enough the trick was done. A magsman will sometimes return his winnings rather than get into a scrape; indeed, I am informed that many hundreds of pounds are returned every year in this way, though the process, no doubt, is a mortifying one to the community.
