'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 bloody 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. Tell you wot you do, lad. Run around in the mornin' an' look in the dust pans. You'll find plenty o tins to cook in. Fine tins, wonderful good some o' them. Me an the ole woman got ours that way." (He pointed at the bundle she held, while she nodded proudly, beaming on me with good nature and consciousness of success and prosperity.) "This overcoat is as good as a blanket," he went on, advancing the skirt of it that I might feel its thickness. "An 'oo knows, I may find a blanket before long."
Again the old woman nodded and beamed, this time with the dead certainty that he would find a blanket before long.
"I call it a 'oliday, 'oppin'," he concluded rapturously. "A tidy way o' gettin' two or three pounds together an' fixin' up for winter. The only thing I
