Of another sort, O Lemonians! are those representatives whom you send us with the little black glazed carpet bags; and we spew them out of our mouths.Non tali auxilio! Better bereft of lemon-drops forever than moisten thirsty lips with bitter draughts. For what is it in those uncanny carpet bags? Needles and thread and sewing-silk and pins and brooches, they say; but we know it is burglars' tools - jimmies, and false keys, and all things which do not make for peace. We will have none of them...
And look well, Lemonia, we country folk pray you, to the ways of the agents whom you send down upon us like frogs and lice and locusts for multitude. Send us women, if you like, or send us men, but let them be ignorant. A little learning is such a dangerous thing. The people who come around with apple-parers and pencil sharpeners, dress-making systems and new fashioned lamp-chimneys, are well enough. We do not object to being reminded by such tokens that we are within twelve miles of the Lemon; but when the religious newspaper-agents bore into your house like worms of the dust that they are, and ask your housekeeper about your way of life and your personal history, why, you would like to grill them over a slow fire...
Found while looking up my two cautionary tales (Fighting the Traffic in Young Girls and another book I have yet to mention, The Masque Torn off) I found one of my favorite books of all my collection: Gail Hamilton's 1874 book, Twelve Miles From a Lemon. A really wonderful book by a very forward and assertive lady author about the trials and tribulations of having a house in the country, and the things one encounters with traveling salesmen.
The Lemon refers to the town market - and Lemonians refer to those who inhabit said market. Lemon-drops are traveling salesmen and peddlers, one of them who:
[Turns] over his whole stock for your pleasure, and has explained to you all the mysteries of his improvements and patents, and you have selected a freezer for the ice that you cannot get, and a new-fangled egg-beater for the eggs that no hen lays, and a lemon grater for the fruit that is twelve miles off.
Digression, I know, but I really love this book as its filled with all sorts of period phrases and catchwords. I wish everybody could read it.
Now... back to voluptuaries and prostitutes...