He then continued his statement,—
“I can’t tell how many brooms I use; for as fast as I gets one, it is took from me. God help me! They watch me put it away, and then up they comes and takes it. What kinds of brooms is the best? Why, as far as I am concerned, I would sooner have a stump on a dry day—it’s lighter and handier to carry; but on a wet day, give me a new un.
“I’m sixteen, your honour, and my name’s George Gandea, and the boys calls me ‘the Goose’ in consequence; for it’s a nickname they gives me, though my name ain’t spelt with a har at the end, but with a h’ay, so that I ain’t Gander after all, but Gandea, which is a sell for ’em.
“God knows what I am—whether I’m h’Irish or h’Italian, or what; but I was christened here in London, and that’s all about it.
“Father was a bookbinder. I’m sixteen now, and father turned me away when I was nine year old, for mother had been dead before that. I was told my right name by my brother-in-law, who had my register. He’s a sweep, sir, by trade, and I wanted to know about my real name when I was going down to the Waterloo—that’s a ship as I wanted to get aboard as a cabin-boy.
“I remember the fust night I slept out after father got rid of me. I slept on a gentleman’s door-step, in the winter, on the 15th January. I packed my shirt and coat, which was a pretty good one, right over my ears, and then scruntched myself into a doorway, and the policeman passed by four or five times without seeing on me.
“I had a mother-in-law at the time; but father used to drink, or else I should never have been as I am; and he came home one night, and says he, ‘Go out and get me a few ha’pence for breakfast,’ and I said I had never been in the streets in my life, and couldn’t; and, says he, ‘Go out, and never let me see you no more,’ and I took him to his word, and have never been near him since.
“Father lived in Barbican at that time, and after leaving him, I used to go to the Royal Exchange, and there I met a boy of the name of Michael, and he first learnt me to beg, and made me run after people, saying, ‘Poor boy, sir—please give us a ha’penny to get a mossel of bread.’ But as fast as I got anythink, he used to take it away, and knock me about shameful; so I left him, and then I picked up with a chap as taught me tumbling. I soon larnt how to do it, and then I used to go tumbling after busses. That was my notion all along, and I hadn’t picked up the way of doing it half an hour before I was after that game.
“I took to crossings about eight year ago, and the very fust person as I asked, I had a fourpenny-piece give to me. I said to him, ‘Poor little Jack, yer honour,’ and, fust of all, says he, ‘I haven’t got no coppers,’ and then he turns back and give me a fourpenny-bit. I thought I was made for life when I got that.
“I wasn’t working in a gang then, but all by myself, and I used to do well, making about a shilling or ninepence a-day. I lodged in Church-lane at that time.