to their minds.  As I was dealing with a scholarly one, I made use of such ornamental literary skill as I possessed, to prove urgency.  He supplied me with bread, fruit, and wine.  In the end he procured me pupils.  I lodged over a baker’s shop.  I had food walks, and learnt something of forestry there—­a taking study.  When I had saved enough to tramp it home, I said my adieux to that good friend and tramped away, entering London with about the same amount in small coin as when I entered Nancy.  A manner of exactly hitting the mark, that some would not find so satisfactory as it is to me.’

The minister sighed.  ’There comes in the “philosophy,” I suppose.  When will you understand, that this “philosophy” is only the passive of a religious faith?  It seems to suit you gentlemen of the road while you are young.  Work among the Whitechapel poor.  It would be a way for discovering the shallows of your “philosophy” earlier.’

Gower asked him:  ‘Going badly here, sir?’

’Murders, robberies, misusage of women, and misconduct of women!—­Drink, in short:  about the same amount.  Drink is their death’s river, rolling them on helpless as corpses, on to—­may they find mercy!  I and a few stand—­it’s in the tide we stand here, to stop them, pluck them out, make life a bit sweet to them before the poor bodies go beneath.  But come! all’s not dark, we have our gleams.  I speak distressed by one of our girls:  a good girl, I believe; and the wilfullest that ever had command of her legs.  A well-favoured girl!  You’ll laugh, she has given her heart to a prize-fighter.  Well, you can say, she might have chosen worse.  He drinks, she hates it; she loves the man and hates his vice.  He swears amendment, is hiccupping at night; fights a match on the morrow, and gets beaten out of formation.  No matter:  whenever, wherever, that man goes to his fight, that girl follows to nurse him after it.  He’s her hero.  Women will have one, and it’s their lottery.  You read of such things; here we have it alive and walking.  I am led to think they ’re an honest couple.  They come of established families.  Her mother was out of Caermarthen; died under my ministration, saintly, forgiving the drunkard.  You may remember the greengrocer, Tobias Winch?  He passed away in shrieks for one drop.  I had to pitch my voice to the top notes to get hearing for the hymn.  He was a reverent man, with the craving by fits.  That should have been a lesson to Madge.’

’A little girl at the greengrocer’s hard by?  She sold me apples; rather pretty,’ said Gower.

’A fine grown girl now—­Madge Winch; a comely wench she is.  It breaks her sister Sarah’s heart.  They both manage the little shop; they make it prosper in a small way; enough, and what need they more?  Then Christopher Ines has on one of his matches.  Madge drives her cart out, if it ’s near town.  She’s off down into Kent to-day by coach, Sarah tells me.  A great nobleman patronizes Christopher; a Lord Fleetwood,