THE HUMOROUS SIDE OF FLINT IMPLEMENT HUNTING. 9
say, "I see how it is Jack, some bloke's 'oss must have run away, and his tail-
board dropped out just 'ere." At another time I had a large number of flints all
marked with letters or figures in white oil paint for a purpose I had on hand. At
length these flints were useless, so they were thrown into the street like the last.
They caused great astonishment amongst the loafers, and every stone that had a
number or letter upon it in oil paint was carefully picked up, pocketed, and
carried away as a treasure.
Strange things are sometimes seen in the gravel pits. I have a note of seeing a
dead donkey, once a dead sheep, once half a cat—the fore part, I thought this very
strange. Dead dogs and entire cats are common. Old hats are frequent. I
have many times seen mattresses, probably not disinfected. Heaps of rotten
potatos are common. Once when Canon Greenwell was with me, my favourite pit
had been almost filled with rotten eggs, and the stench was stupifying. Loads of
stinking fish are often thrown into holes where gravel has been dug, and where
shoddy villas are afterwards built.
Sometimes a man will say, "What do you do with 'em, sir ?" If I reply that I
only keep them out of curiosity, the man will probably reply, ''That be blowed for
a tale, no bloke would walk about like you do after stones, unless he could sell 'em
for a good tip."
It is common for men to say they have got lumps of "petrified water.''
Transparent or semi-transparent silicious stones are always called "petrified
water."
A man called on me once with what he called a "petrified mussel." Of
course, it was a natural stone, as I told him. He replied that his mates all agreed
that stones growed—"and if stones growed," said the man, "why shouldn't
this mussel have growed."
When I began to search over West Ham, near Stratford, I did not like the appear-
ance of my ground—brickbats were flying about, and two or three street fights
were going on. I asked a gentle-looking navvy what sort of place it was; he
replied, "I'll tell you what sort of a place it is guv'n'r ; if you goes into a
"public" for a pot of beer I should advise you to drink it off at a draught, for
if you puts the pot down, I'm blest if some other bloke wont drink it for you."
Once, in going to a parish pit, the contractor (drunk) was inside with the men.
He had always been very friendly with me, and on my entrance he said, "Glad to
see you sir ; I like a man like you, and I have often wanted to buy you a present,
but didn't know what to buy. Blest if you sha'n't have a load of gravel for
nothing. Look 'ere Bob, this gentleman's got to have a load of gravel first
thing in morning. Look 'ere Mr. Smith, you got to give nothing to Bob."
"What sort of stones is it the gentleman's looking for, Dan'l," I once heard a
man say. His better informed companion replied, "Why some on 'ems just like
the shape of a Yankee oyster."
An old man at Shacklewell, looking at my heavy tourists boots, once asked me
if I had an old pair of boots to spare, because, said he, "you seems like a gentle-
man who wouldn't mind carrying an old pair of boots through the street."
A London gravel digger once asked me what I was looking for. As I had an
implement in my pocket, I showed him it and explained. "Ah," said he, "I've
never seen anything like that before," and turned away. He, however, suddenly
looked around and said, "Have you ever seen a petrified dog?" "Never,"
I replied. "Well," said the workman, "I've got one. I saw the dog's head
a sticking up out of the gravelled road and looking at me full in the face. When I
B 3