LONDON THIEVES. 335 



hidden from the police, in lavender; whipping 

 while in prison, claws for breakfast ; the condemned 

 cell, the salt-box. Many of these poor wretches live 

 in constant dread. Life is to them a great burden. 

 The professional thief is never at rest. Hear what 

 one of them has to say for himself: " Anybody 'd 

 think to hear some'n 'em talk, that it's all sugar wi' 

 us coves w'en we're free, and that -we'd no sufferin' 

 till we're nabbed by a beak, but such as thinks that 

 'ere way don't know nothink about us. Take a 

 feller now who is in for gettin' his livin' on the cross, 

 and who has got a kid or two and their mother at 

 home. I don't say that's me, but you can fix it that 

 way if you wants to. She's not a thief. Ask her 

 what she knows about me, and she'll tell you that, 

 wuss luck, I've got in co wi' sum bad uns, and she 

 wishes I hadn't. She wishes I hadn't, perhaps, not out 

 of any Goody-two-shoes sort o' feelin', but coz she loves 

 me. That's the name of it. We 'aven't got any other 

 name for the feelin', and she can't bear to think that 

 I may be dragged off any hour and given a stretch, or 

 even a half stretch ; and then my feelin's too, and no 

 mistake, day by day, and Sundays too, as well as week 

 days. 



" She's not fonder o' me than I am o' her, I'll go bail 

 for that; and as for the kids, and especially for the girl 



