rdship and poverty, which they who know poverty and hardship know so
well.

I wish _I_ had known them, because then I should have given the man some
of my money when we parted, instead of feeling too delicate to do so. I
can remember his face too well not to know now how much he must have
needed it, and how heroic a virtue honesty must have been in him.

It did not seem to strike him as at all strange or unnatural that a lad
of my age should be seeking his own fortune, but I feel sure that he
thought it was misconduct on my part which had made me run away from
home. I had no grievance to describe which he could recognize as
grievous enough to drive me out into the world. However, I felt very
glad that he saw no impossibility in my earning my own livelihood, or
even anything very unusual in my situation.

"I suppose lots of young fellows run away from home and go to sea from a
place like this?" said I, when we had reached Liverpool.

"And there's plenty more goes that has no homes to run from," replied he
sententiously.

Prefacing each fresh counsel with the formula, "You'll excuse _me_," he
gave me some excellent advice as we threaded the greasy streets, and
jostled the disreputable-looking population of the lower part of the
town. General counsels as to my conduct, and the desirableness of
turning over a new leaf for "young chaps" who had been wild and got into
scrapes at home. And particular counsels which were invaluable to me, as
to changing my dress, how to hide my money, what to turn my hand to with
the quickest chance of bread-winning in strange places, and how to keep
my own affairs to myself among strange people.

It was in the greasiest street, and among the most disreputable-looking
people, that we found the "slop-shop" where, by my friend's orders, I
was to "rig out" in clothes befitting my new line of life. He went in
first, so he did not see the qualm that seized me on the doorstep. A
revulsion so violent that it nearly made me sick then and there; and if
some one had seized me by the nape of my neck, and landed me straightway
at my desk in Uncle Henry's office, would, I believe, have left me tamed
for life. For if this unutterable vileness of sights and sounds and
smells which hung around the dark entry of the slop shop were indeed
the world, I felt a sudden and most vehement conviction that I would
willingly renounce the world for ever. As it happened, I had not at that
moment the choice. My friend