"I was now an outcast in London. It seemed strange that in the midst of so many thousand houses, I should be without a corner to lay my head in,—that in the midst of millions of people I should not have a single one to help me, or take an interest in me. Such was my condition on a night of August last. I had a few shillings in my pocket, but as I did not see any way by which I could earn money, it was necessary to be rigidly economical. I applied for a night's shelter at a cheap lodging-house in the Borough, but it was so crowded with shabby, dirty, and noisy lodgers that I turned sick, and was obliged to leave. I then tried the casual ward in one of the infirmaries, but it was even more disgusting. Quite at a loss to know what to do, I wandered aimlessly up and down till I found myself on London Bridge, when the steeples were pealing out the hour of midnight. Footsore and weary, I threw myself down on the hard stone seat in one of the recesses; but shortly, a poor, slouching tatterdemalion squatted down beside me, actually laying his unkempt head upon my legs. In disgust, I started up, and crawled away into the city. Hour after hour I dragged my weary limbs along the solitary, interminable streets, looking for some covered doorway where I might lay me down and sleep. Twice I had found a suitable spot; but before I could take possession of it, a policeman's lantern was seen approaching, and I was obliged to move on. When morning began to break I found myself close to Regent's Park, and the soft green sward appeared a temptation which I could not resist. Climbing the fence with some difficulty, I made for a large beech tree, and pillowing my head on one of its extended roots, and stretching out my legs on the soft delightful grass, I fell at once into a deep slumber.
"After several hours of absolute unconsciousness, I had a dream, and thought I was back again in Scotland, in our garden at Eskbank, and heard somebody calling to me. I gradually came to myself, and opened my eyes; and there was a working-man standing over me, and, in an accent unmistakably Scotch, calling me by name, and asking why I was there. I cannot describe the gush of delight that ran through me when I heard the kindly tones of my native land, and realised that here at least was a man who took an interest in me. Raising myself up, I asked him how he came to know me? He told me that he belonged to Eskbank, that he used to know me by sight, that he was on his way to his work in Regent Park Gardens, and that he was astonished to see me lying like an outcast there. What could I do but tell him my sad story? He said that it might be a long time before I could get any suitable berth in London, and that my best plan would be to go home at once, and that he would lend me five shillings—all that he had on him—to help me on my way. My heart bounded with delight at the suggestion, and I wondered that I had never thought of it before. So, taking his offered loan, and along with it his address, and promising to repay him as soon as I was able, I shook hands with my humble friend, and set off at once to prepare for my journey. Not having enough money to pay the fare either by coach or boat, I resolved to go on foot, and hoped that by taking every precaution, I would not find it too much for me, and that I might be able to get some odd jobs by the road, which would assist my expenses. So I packed up all my effects in a napkin, and bravely set my face to the north.
"When, from the top of Highgate, I had taken my last look of the smoky wilderness called London, and when I turned to go forward through the rich autumn landscape, I felt really happy. After my bitter experience of the endless rows of brick houses, and the everlasting stone pavement, I enjoyed the long lines of leafy trees and hedges, and the soft, fragrant wayside grass. The very thought that every step was taking me nearer home was a delight in itself. That the distance was four hundred miles did not seem to matter much. Our school's sports, especially that of hounds and hare, had taught me to hold in, and not expend all my resources at once. So I moved along at a steady, regular pace, taking care not to strain my muscles. When my feet grew hot, I refreshed them by walking into a brook. When faintness came on, I did not seek the ale-house; but I bought a penny loaf, and sitting down by a wayside well, found that plain bread and water were both palatable and invigorating. For dessert, I sometimes had a young Swedish turnip, which I found more sweet and juicy than any pine-apple I ever tasted. At night, as the weather continued remarkably dry and warm, I preferred the open air to the tramp's lodging-house; and under the newly-cut corn sheaves, or in the recess of a haystack, I slept soundly till I was wakened by the rising sun.
"With all my economy, however, my little stock of money melted fast away; and I soon saw that if I wished to be saved from the degradation of begging I must earn something. I therefore hit upon a plan which I thought would be sure to get me some employment. This was to call upon the clergymen through whose parishes I passed, to tell them frankly the cause of my degradation, and to ask them in the name of Christian charity to allow me to do some work for them, by which I could earn a meal or a small sum of money. But, unfortunately, this patent plan of mine failed. Without exception, the parish priests listened to my story with an incredulous look, shook their heads, and shut their doors in my face. At length I ventured to ask one why he disbelieved me?
"'My good man,' he said, 'I can't help it. I have been so often taken in by people like you. The more plausible your story is, the more likely it is to be false.'
"'You look upon poverty, then,' said I, 'as a crime?'
"'No,' he replied, 'not exactly, but as one of the marks of a criminal. I may be wrong, but I can't help it.'
"I saw, too, that my fellow-tramps had the same opinion about me. One evening, at a sudden turn of the road, I found myself face to face with one of a most villainous type. There was no mistaking him. He was a real London-made rough, spawned in the gutter, bred in the slums, moulded in the jostle of the streets, with plunder in his look and blasphemy on his tongue.
"Planting himself right before me, and devouring me with his rat-like eyes, he croaked out, 'Well, my bloomin' cove! what lay are you on?'
"I told him that I was a gentleman who had been unfortunate in London, and was now on my way back to my native country.