"It was 'is fust time, but 'e come back wi' two poun' ten in 'is pockit, an' 'e was only gone a month." "There you are," said the Hopper, a wealth of admiration in his voice.
"'E was quick.

'E was jest nat'rally born to it, 'e was." Two pound ten--twelve dollars and a half--for a month's work when one is "jest nat'rally born to it!" And in addition, sleeping out without blankets and living the Lord knows how.

There are moments when I am thankful that I was not "jest nat'rally born" a genius for anything, not even hop-picking, In the matter of getting an outfit for "the hops," the Hopper gave me some sterling advice, to which same give heed, you soft and tender people, in case you should ever be stranded in London Town.
"If you ain't got tins an' cookin' things, all as you can get'll be bread and cheese.

No bloomin' good that! You must 'ave 'ot tea, an' wegetables, an' a bit o' meat, now an' again, if you're goin' to do work as is work.

Cawn't do it on cold wittles.