"But it's not the likes of me an' you can do it.

You got to be born to it, I say.

Them chaps 'ave ben openin' cabs an' sellin' papers since the day they was born, an' their fathers an' mothers before 'em.

It's all in the trainin', I say, an' the likes of me an' you 'ud starve at it." This also was verified by the general chorus, and likewise the statement that there were "mugs as lives the twelvemonth 'round in the spike an' never get a blessed bit o' tommy other than spike skilly an' bread." "I once got arf a crown in the Stratford spike," said a new voice.
Silence fell on the instant, and all listened to the wonderful tale.
"There was three of us breakin' stones.

Winter-time, an' the cold was cruel.