being a remnant of the old press gang--and he looked it every bit. He
was morose, dark-featured, heavily marked with the small-pox, and had a
deep scar from the comer of his mouth to the back of his jaw, which did
not add to his beauty. He was dressed in oiled canvas trousers, a shiny
black sailor's hat, and an old pensioner's undress blue short coat, and
was not looked upon with respect. He had a small pension of some sort
from the navy, and used to eke out his living by bringing down the floats
of timber from the docks to the different timber yards, and at other
times to work on the sand-barges dredging in the river.

There was another well-known character, a half-witted fellow, who got his
living by collecting corks and drift wood that was washed in by the
eddies at high tide. He had an old boat that had been mended by tacking
bits of old floor cloth over the holes in her, and when afloat had always
to have someone baling out the water to keep her so. The Thames in those
days was considerably more of a highway than at present. There were two
watermen who went regularly up to Thames Street every day as a sort of
carriers, and would fetch or take anything from a message to a house of
furniture. They would frequently bring a barrel of herrings, or two or
three sacks of potatoes, or anything they could buy cheap, and would go
round themselves with a bell and announce that they would sell in the
boat at the drawdock, at six in the evening, and in the winter they would
have one or two flaring lights and sell by Dutch auction. Of course, we
boys always attended these sales.

In Paradise Row, were Harrison's, the tallow melters and candle makers,
who used to do the work under the shop in a cellar, reached by a flap
from the outside. Charlie, the candle maker, was quite a favourite with
us boys, for he would occasionally invite two or three of us to supper in
the cellar. It was an understood thing that we should bring some
potatoes and enough money for a pot of four half and half. We assembled
as soon as the shop was closed and the master gone, about half-past six;
and then such glorious suppers! I do not think I ever had such before or
since. Our first operation was to wash the potatoes, place them in the
furnace hole and cover them up with the ashes, and rake out some more
ashes and pat them well down. Next, Charlie would go to a special
fat-bin and bring forth five or six lumps of fat, each containing a
kid