Summary

James Greenwood Low-Life Deeps — Chapter 26: The Day's Work of a London "Cadger" (1881)

The woman carried a capacious handbasket, and she and the man, who was cheerfully puffing at his morning pipe, stepped along briskly, looking so little like beggars that, meeting them promiscuously, I should have no more thought of bestowing a penny on them for charity's sake than of asking them for one.
The drizzling rain still continuing, the pair made their way, at so nimble a pace that it was not the easiest thing in the world to keep up with them, down the Borough, towards Newington-causeway, and up the Kennington-road.
Source: Wikisource

James Greenwood Low-Life Deeps — Chapter 26: The Day's Work of a London "Cadger" (1881)

They are but a poor twopenny lot of robbers, lean, hard-worked and half-starved wretches, these Black Boy revellers, on whom the very beggars and cadgers, who are our landlord's best customers, look down with pity. They are the most meekly enduring mortals it is possible to imagine. There are men who are never worth their salt, as the saying is, whatever trade they may turn their hands to, and so, without doubt, it is in the profession of thieving.
Source: Wikisource

James Greenwood Low-Life Deeps — Chapter 26: The Day's Work of a London "Cadger" (1881)

They hurried still Kennington-ward for fully a quarter of a mile, and then diverging into a quiet street again took to the mud. In one street-a long one, certainly, and composed of houses of a superior kind - I took note, and estimated that the outcast pair received no less than nineteen donations, and this in the space of twenty-five minutes! It was not, however, in these instances of almsgiving that the cruelty of the imposition appealed most strongly to one's feelings of indignation.
Source: Wikisource

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