There was another well-known character, a half-witted fellow, who got his living by collecting corks and drift wood that was washed in by the eddies at high tide. He had an old boat that had been mended by tacking bits of old floor cloth over the holes in her, and when afloat had always to have someone baling out the water to keep her so. The Thames in those days was considerably more of a highway than at present. There were two watermen who went regularly up to Thames Street every day as a sort of carriers, and would fetch or take anything from a message to a house of furniture. They would frequently bring a barrel of herrings, or two or three sacks of potatoes, or anything they could buy cheap, and would go round themselves with a bell and announce that they would sell in the boat at the drawdock, at six in the evening, and in the winter they would have one or two flaring lights and sell by Dutch auction. Of course, we boys always attended these sales. In Paradise Row, were Harrison’s, the tallow melters and candle makers, who used to do the work under the shop in a cellar, reached by a flap from the outside. Charlie, the candle maker, was quite a favourite with us boys, for he would occasionally invite two or three of us to supper in the cellar. It was an understood thing that we should bring some potatoes and enough money for a pot of four half and half. We assembled as soon as the shop was closed and the master gone, about half-past six; and then such glorious suppers! I do not think I ever had such before or since. Our first operation was to wash the potatoes, place them in the furnace hole and cover them up with the ashes, and rake out some more ashes and pat them well down. Next, Charlie would go to a special fat-bin and bring forth five or six lumps of fat, each containing a kidney, which by some mistake had been left in. These were dexterously taken out, tied up separately in a piece of thin lining kept for the purpose, leaving a long loop. He would then string them on a dipping rod, used for dipping the candles, place the rod across the coppers and plunge them in the boiling fat. In about twenty minutes they were done, and taken out, and the potatoes, beautifully baked, divided between us. At times we were short of plates, but that did not trouble us, for an inverted saucepan lid answered every purpose. We would then sit and tell stories till we were obliged to go home. Charlie used to work all night Tuesday and Friday, as on those days they got the fresh fat in from the butchers.