d you better. Strange--strange, that you, out of all men,
should have been kind to me in distress!"

"Not at all strange. Ask the beggar whom he gets the most pence
from--the fine lady in her carriage--the beau smelling of eau de
Cologne? Pish! the people nearest to being beggars themselves keep the
beggar alive. You were friendless, and the man who has all earth for
a foe befriends you. It is the way of the world, sir,--the way of the
world. Come, eat while you can; this time next year you may have no beef
to your bread."

Thus masticating and moralising at the same time, Mr. Gawtrey at last
finished a breakfast that would have astonished the whole Corporation
of London; and then taking out a large old watch, with an enamelled
back--doubtless more German than its master--he said, as he lifted up
his carpet-bag, "I must be off--tempos fugit, and I must arrive just in
time to nick the vessels. Shall get to Ostend, or Rotterdam, safe and
snug; thence to Paris. How my pretty Fan will have grown! Ah, you don't
know Fan--make you a nice little wife one of these days! Cheer up, man,
we shall meet again. Be sure of it; and hark ye, that strange place, as
you call it, where I took you,--you can find it again?"

"Not I."

"Here, then, is the address. Whenever you want me, go there, ask to see
Mr. Gregg--old fellow with one eye, you recollect--shake him by the
hand just so--you catch the trick--practise it again. No, the forefinger
thus, that's right. Say 'blater,' no more--'blater;'--stay, I will write
it down for you; and then ask for William Gawtrey's direction. He will
give it you at once, without questions--these signs understood; and if
you want money for your passage, he will give you that also, with advice
into the bargain. Always a warm welcome with me. And so take care of
yourself, and good-bye. I see my chaise is at the door."

As he spoke, Gawtrey shook the young man's hand with cordial vigour, and
strode off to his chaise, muttering, "Money well laid out--fee money; I
shall have him, and, Gad, I like him,--poor devil!"

CHAPTER V.

"He is a cunning coachman that can turn well in a narrow room."
Old Play: from Lamb's Specimens.

"Here are two pilgrims,
And neither knows one footstep of the way."
HEYWOOD's Duchess of Suffolk, Ibid.

The chaise had scarce driven from the inn-door when a coach stopped to
change horses on its last stage to the town to which Philip was, bound.
The name of t