They turned us out at eight o'clock with a
meal of hot gruel, and without exacting any
work from us. The hereditary tramp and I
walked together from Kingston to Esher.
The navigator stopped in Kingston, having a
genteel begging walk in the environs: and
the Irishman sallied forth London-ward with
a slipshod wife, and a tribe of ragged children,
who had slept in the women's casual ward.
With them went the two sailor lads; one of
whom, with a rough kindness that would
have made me give him a penny if I had
possessed one, carried the Irishwoman's sickly
baby.

"Why don't you chuck them ere shoeses
off?" asked my friend as we plodded along.
"They wouldn't fetch nothing, to sell, and
they're only a bother to walk in, unless you
was to put some wet grass in 'em. Look at
my trotters," he continued, pointing to his feet,
and tapping the sole of one of them with the
blade of his knife, "they'se as hard as bricks,
they is. Go buff-steppered—that's the game."

Some remnants of Master Somebody's pride
in his neat Bluchers must have lingered about
me, for I declined the invitation to walk barefoot.

"When shoes is shoes," pursued the tramp
argumentatively, "they'se good for those as
likes 'em, which I don't; but when they're
'crab-shells,' and leaky and gummy in the
soles, and lark-heeled, the sooner you get shut
of 'em the better. There's togs, too," he
pursued, looking with proper pride at his own
attire, "the sooner you peels off them cloth
kicksies the better. There ain't no wear in
'em, and they'se no good, if you ain't on the
flash lay. My jacket's Guildford jail. My
trousers is Dartford Union; and my flannel
shirt is the Society for the 'Ouseless poor.
When I can't patch 'em no longer, and they
gets all alive like, I tears up. Do you
know what 'tearing up' is? A course
you don't. Well, I goes to a Union a night,
and I rips up into bits every mortal bit I
has upon me. Then they comes in the
morning, and they puts me into a sack, and
they puts me in a cart and takes me afore
the beak.' Tearing up is twenty-one days, and
quod meals, which is mind ye reglar, is good
for a cove, and freshens him up."

Here he sat down on a milestone; and,
producing a remarkably neat housewife case,
proceeded to overhaul all parts of his apparel
with as much care and circumspection as if
they had been of purple and fine linen,
catching up any stray rents and "Jacob's
ladders" with a grave and deliberate
countenance.

How long this man and I might have kept
company I am not prepared to say; but we
soon fell out. He descried, or fancied that he
could descry, something in my face that would
be sure to attract the sympathies of the
benevolent, and loosen their purse strings; or, as
he phrased it "nobble the flats;" and he
urged me with great vehemence, not only to
beg pecuniary relief from all passers by, but
also to diverge from the high road, and go "a
grub cadging," i.e., to beg broken victuals at
small cottages and gentlemens' lodge-gates.
Finding that I was too shame-faced, he felt
himself, I suppose, called upon to renounce
and repudiate me as unworthy his
distinguished company and advice; and, telling me
that I warn't fit for tramping nohow, he
departed in great dudgeon down a cross road
leading towards Reading. I never saw him
again.

I walked that day—very slowly and
painfully, for my feet had begun to swell—to
Guildford. I was very hungry and faint
when I arrived, but could not muster
courage enough to beg. I had a drink or
two of water at public-houses, going along,
which was always readily granted; and I
comforted myself from milestone to milestone
with the thought of a supper and bed at
Guildford, where my ex-mentor had informed
me there was a "stunning Union." But,
woeful event! when I got to Guildford, it
was full nine o'clock in the evening. The
good people of that pleasant market-town
were taking their walks abroad, after church
service; good, easy, comfortable, family folk
—fathers of families—sweethearts in loving
couples—all, doubtless, with cosy suppers to
go home to, and snug beds and knowing and
caring nothing for one poor, soiled, miserable
tramp, toiling along the highway with his
fainting spirit just kept breast high by the
problematical reversion of a pauper's pallet
and a pauper's crust. I soon found out the
relieving officer, who gave me my ticket, and
told me to look sharp or the Union would be
closed; but I mistook the way, and stumbled
through dark lanes, and found myself, weeping
piteously and praying incoherently, in
quagmires; and when I did get at last to the
grim, brick, castellated Union-house, the gates
were closed, and admission to the casual
ward was impossible. The porter, a fat,
timid man, surveyed me through the grate,
and drew back again as by the light of a
lantern he scanned my gaunt, hunger-stricken
mien. He thrust a piece of bread to me
between the bars, and recommended me to seek
the relieving officer again, who, he said, would
find me a bed. Then, he wished me good
night, and retreated into his little lodge or
den with the air of a man who has got rid of
a troublesome customer.

Good night! It began to rain, and to
menace a thunderstorm; but I sat down in a
ditch, and devoured the bread. It was eleven
o'clock, and I was wet to the skin; when by
dint of dodging up and down dark lanes, and
knocking up against posts, and bruising my
shins over milestones, I got to the relieving
officer's again.

The relieving officer lived up a steep flight
of steps; and, as I approached the bottom
thereof, was peeping out at the door to see
what sort of a night it was. He shook his