There are plenty of my readers old enough to remember many of these Ballads, and they will come none the worse because they bring with them the reminiscence of their youth. _Forsan et hæc olim meminisse juvabit._ They owe a great deal of their charm to the fact that they were absolutely contemporary with the events they describe, and, though sometimes rather faulty in their history, owing to the pressure under which they were composed and issued, yet those very inaccuracies prove their freshness. The majority were illustrated--if, indeed, any can be called illustrated--for the woodcuts were generally served out with a charming impartiality, and without the slightest regard to the subject of the ballad. What previous work these blocks had served, goodness only knows; they were probably bought at trade sales, and had illustrated books that were out of date or unsaleable. They vary from the sixteenth century to Bewick, some of whose works are occasionally met with; but, taking them as a whole, we must fain confess that art as applied to these Ballads was at its very lowest. Their literary merit is not great--but what can you expect for half-a-crown? which was the price which Jemmy Catnach,[1] of Monmouth Court, Seven Dials, used to pay for their production. Catnach issued a large number from his press (in fact, his successor, Fortey, advertised that he had four thousand different sorts for sale), and his name is used as a “household word” to designate this class of Ballad. But, in fact, he only enjoyed the largest share of the London trade, whilst the Provinces were practically independent--Liverpool, Manchester, Birmingham, Newcastle, Preston, Hull, Sheffield, Durham, etc., had their own ballad-mongers, who wrote somewhat after the manner of the author of “The Bard of Seven Dials.” “And it’s my plan, that some great man Dies with a broken head, Sirs, Vith a bewail, I does detail His death ’afore e’s dead, Sirs. And while his friends and foes contends, They all my papers buy, Sirs, Yes, vithout doubt, I sells ’em out, ’Cos there my talent lies, Sirs.” The Ballad singers and vendors made money rapidly over any event which took the popular fancy--a good blood-curdling murder being very profitable; and the business required very little capital, even that being speedily turned over. Generally, the singers worked singlehanded, but sometimes two would join, and then the Ballad took an antiphonal form, which must have relieved them very much, and the crowd which gathered round them was the surest proof that their vocal efforts were appreciated.