“Hitherto I had only used the wretched tools and the materials for binding which my bookseller chose to sell me; but I found there were many others wanting, which were only to be had in London; besides, I wished to fix a correspondence for what I wanted, without purchasing at second-hand. There was a necessity to take this journey; but an obstacle arose—I had no money.
“My dear sister raised three guineas; sewed them in my shirt collar, for there was no doubt of my being robbed, and put eleven shillings in my pocket, for it was needful to have a sop to satisfy the rogues when they made the attack. From the diminutive sum I took, it may reasonably be supposed I should have nothing left to purchase.
“On Monday morning at three, April 8th, I set out. Not being accustomed to walk, my feet were blistered with the first ten miles. I must not, however, sink under the fatigue, but endeavour to proceed as if all were well; for much depended on this journey. Aided by resolution I marched on.
“Stopping at Leicester, I unfortunately left my knife, and did not discover the loss till I had proceeded eleven miles. I grieved, because it was the only keepsake I had of my worthy friend, Mr. Webb. Ten times its value could not have purchased it. I had marked it with ‘July 22, 1742, W. H.’
“A mile beyond Leicester I overtook a traveller with his head bound. ‘How far are you going?’ he asked. ‘To London,’ replied I. ‘So am I.’ ‘When do you expect to arrive?’ ‘On Wednesday night.’ ‘So do I.’ ‘What is the matter with your head?’ said I; ‘have you been fighting?’ He returned a blind answer, which convinced me of the affirmative. I did not half like my companion, especially as he took care to walk behind me. This probably, I thought, was one of the rogues likely to attack me. But when I understood he was a tailor my fears rather subsided, nor did I wonder his head was wrapped.
“Determined upon a separation, I marched apace for half-an-hour. ‘Do you mean to hold this rate?’ ‘It is best to hold daylight while we have it.’ I found I could match him at walking, whatever I might do at fighting. In half-an-hour more we came to a public-house, when he gave up the contest. ‘Will you step in and drink?’ ‘No, I shall be moving slowly; you may soon overtake me.’
“I stopped at Brixworth, having walked fifty-four miles, and my whole expense for the day was fivepence.
“The next night, Tuesday the 9th, I reached Dunstable. Passing over Finchley Common on the third day, I overtook a carter, who told me I might be well accommodated at the ‘Horns,’ in St. John’s Street (Smithfield), by making use of his name. But it happened, in the eagerness of talking and the sound of his noisy cart, he forgot to tell his name, and I to ask it.
“I arrived at the ‘Horns’ at five; described my director, whom they could not recollect. However, I was admitted as an inmate, and then ordered a mutton-chop and porter; but, alas! I was jaded, had fasted too long; my appetite was gone, and the chop nearly useless.
“This meal, if it may be called a meal, was the only one during my stay; and I think the only time I ever ate under a roof. I did not know one soul in London, therefore could have no invitations. Life is supported with a little; which was well for me, because I had but little to give it. If a man has any money he will see stalls enough in London, which will supply him with something to eat, and it rests with him to lay out his money to the best advantage. If he cannot afford butter he must eat his bread without. This will tend to keep up his appetite, which will always give a relish to food, though mean; and scantiness will add to that relish.