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commanded by their front doors and windows。 One workman sat in his
door directly opposite us； taking his rest and a breath of air after the toil of
the day。 His wife came to chat with him。 The doorway was too small
for two； so she stood up。 Their babes sprawled before them。 And here
was the spike line； less than a score of feet awayneither privacy for the
workman； nor privacy for the pauper。 About our feet played the children
of the neighbourhood。 To them our presence was nothing unusual。 We
were not an intrusion。 We were as natural and ordinary as the brick walls
and stone curbs of their environment。 They had been born to the sight of
the spike line； and all their brief days they had seen it。
At six o'clock the line moved up； and we were admitted in groups of
three。 Name； age； occupation； place of birth； condition of destitution；
and the previous night's 〃doss；〃 were taken with lightning…like rapidity by
the superintendent； and as I turned I was startled by a man's thrusting into
my hand something that felt like a brick； and shouting into my ear； 〃any
knives； matches； or tobacco？〃 〃No； sir；〃 I lied； as lied every man who
entered。 As I passed downstairs to the cellar； I looked at the brick in my
hand； and saw that by doing violence to the language it might be called
〃bread。〃 By its weight and hardness it certainly must have been
unleavened。
The light was very dim down in the cellar； and before I knew it some
other man had thrust a pannikin into my other hand。 Then I stumbled on
to a still darker room； where were benches and tables and men。 The place
smelled vilely； and the sombre gloom； and the mumble of voices from out
of the obscurity； made it seem more like some anteroom to the infernal
regions。
Most of the men were suffering from tired feet； and they prefaced the
meal by removing their shoes and unbinding the filthy rags with which
their feet were wrapped。 This added to the general noisomeness； while it
took away from my appetite。
In fact； I found that I had made a mistake。 I had eaten a hearty dinner
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five hours before； and to have done justice to the fare before me I should
have fasted for a couple of days。 The pannikin contained skilly； three…
quarters of a pint； a mixture of Indian corn and hot water。 The men were
dipping their bread into heaps of salt scattered over the dirty tables。 I
attempted the same； but the bread seemed to stick in my mouth； and I
remembered the words of the Carpenter； 〃You need a pint of water to eat
the bread nicely。〃
I went over into a dark corner where I had observed other men going
and found the water。 Then I returned and attacked the skilly。 It was
coarse of texture； unseasoned； gross； and bitter。 This bitterness which
lingered persistently in the mouth after the skilly had passed on； I found
especially repulsive。 I struggled manfully； but was mastered by my
qualms； and half…a…dozen mouthfuls of skilly and bread was the measure
of my success。 The man beside me ate his own share； and mine to boot；
scraped the pannikins； and looked hungrily for more。
〃I met a 'towny；' and he stood me too good a dinner；〃 I explained。
〃An' I 'aven't 'ad a bite since yesterday mornin'；〃 he replied。
〃How about tobacco？〃 I asked。 〃Will the bloke bother with a fellow
now？〃
〃Oh no；〃 he answered me。 〃No bloomin' fear。 This is the easiest
spike goin'。 Y'oughto see some of them。 Search you to the skin。〃
The pannikins scraped clean； conversation began to spring up。 〃This
super'tendent 'ere is always writin' to the papers 'bout us mugs；〃 said the
man on the other side of me。
〃What does he say？〃 I asked。
〃Oh； 'e sez we're no good； a lot o' blackguards an' scoundrels as won't
work。 Tells all the ole tricks I've bin 'earin' for twenty years an' w'ich I
never seen a mug ever do。 Las' thing of 'is I see； 'e was tellin' 'ow a mug
gets out o' the spike； wi' a crust in 'is pockit。 An' w'en 'e sees a nice ole
gentleman comin' along the street 'e chucks the crust into the drain； an'
borrows the old gent's stick to poke it out。 An' then the ole gent gi'es 'im
a tanner。〃
A roar of applause greeted the time…honoured yarn； and from
somewhere over in the deeper darkness came another voice； orating
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angrily：
〃Talk o' the country bein' good for tommy ＇food＇； I'd like to see it。 I
jest came up from Dover； an' blessed little tommy I got。 They won't gi' ye
a drink o' water； they won't； much less tommy。〃
〃There's mugs never go out of Kent；〃 spoke a second voice； 〃they live
bloomin' fat all along。〃
〃I come through Kent；〃 went on the first voice； still more angrily； 〃an'
Gawd blimey if I see any tommy。 An' I always notices as the blokes as
talks about 'ow much they can get； w'en they're in the spike can eat my
share o' skilly as well as their bleedin' own。〃
〃There's chaps in London；〃 said a man across the table from me； 〃that
get all the tommy they want； an' they never think o' goin' to the country。
Stay in London the year 'round。 Nor do they think of lookin' for a kip
＇place to sleep＇； till nine or ten o'clock at night。〃
A general chorus verified this statement
〃But they're bloomin' clever； them chaps；〃 said an admiring voice。
〃Course they are；〃 said another voice。 〃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。
T'other two said they'd be blessed if they do it； an' they didn't； but I kept
wearin' into mine to warm up； you know。 An' then the guardians come；
an' t'other chaps got run in for fourteen days； an' the guardians； w'en they
see wot I'd been doin'； gives me a tanner each； five o' them； an' turns me
up。〃
The majority of these men； nay； all of them； I found； do not like the
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spike； and only come to it when driven in。 After the 〃rest up〃 they are
good for two or three days and nights on the streets； when they are driven
in again for another rest。 Of course； this continuous hardship quickly
breaks their constitutions； and they realise it； though only in a vague way；
while it is so much the common run of things that they do not worry about
it。
〃On the doss；〃 they call vagabondage here； which corresponds to 〃on
the road〃 in the United States。 The agreement is that kipping； or dossing；
or sleeping； is the hardest problem they have to face； harder even than that
of food。 The inclement weather and the harsh laws are mainly
responsible for this； while the men themselves ascribe their homelessness
to foreign immigration； especially of Polish and Russian Jews； who take
their places at lower wages and establish the sweating system。
By seven o'clock we were called away to bathe and go to bed。 We
stripped our clothes； wrapping them up in our coats and buckling our belts
about them； and deposited them in a heaped rack and on the floora
beautiful scheme for the spread of vermin。