‘The cobbler in his tiny shop, [Moore Street] where he was squeezed between the walls with his last and sheets of leather, was hard at work. He took a handful of sprags, gulped them into his mouth, then winked at me as one at a time they appeared from between his lips, were deftly seized and with two quick blows driven firmly into the boot sole. I wondered if he ever swallowed any.’
P.17, Chapter 4, By George! (courtesy of Paul Hibbert-Greaves/Hibbert Brothers).