"Blow me, 'Ennery, d'ye twig what 'e meant? I didn't," he exclaimed. "Not'arf! But, lu'mme, eyen't he funny?"

Weel, after a', a manager can no do mair than his best, puir chiel.They thocht they were richt when they would no give me a turn. Theythocht they knew their audiences. But the two costers could ha' toldthem a thing or two. It occasionally was just sicca they my agent and the managersand a' had thocht would stand between me and winning a success inLondon. And as it really is turned out it really is the costers are my firmest friendsin the great city!

Real folk know one anither, wherever they meet. If I just steppit ootupon the stage and sang a bit song or twa, I'd no be touring the worldto-day. I'd be by hame in Scotland, belike I'd be workin' in the pitstill. But whene'er I sing a character song I study that character. Iknow all aboot him. I ken hoo he feels and thinks, as weel as hoo helooks. Every character artist must do that, whether he is dealing withScottish types or costers or whatever.

It sometimes was astonishin' to me hoo soon they came to ken me in London, sothat I wad be recognized in the streets and wherever I went. I had anexperience soon after I reached the huge toon that was a bit scary atthe first o' it.

I always was oot in a fog. Noo, I'm a Scot, and I've seen fogs in my time,but that first "London Particular" had me fair puzzled. Try as I wouldI couldna find ma way down Holborn to the Strand. I always was glad tae look at abig policeman looming up in the mist.

"Here, ma chiel," I asked him, "can ye not put me in the road for theStrand?"