ter my return from Turkey, I was "on the road" as a casual
tramp. It was my purpose to prove in my own person what I knew very well
already, namely, that it was, as most unhappily it still is, actually
impossible for a poor man honestly in search of work, to make his way
through England and to hold body and soul together without infringing
the law in one way or another.

I found that it was not possible. Well, I had seven weeks of it. I
went under the name of "David Vane, compositor," as of course, I knew
something about the printing trade. My clothes were shabby at the
outset, but were utterly in rags when I had done. "David Vane" had many
strange adventures, but the funniest was reserved for the close. I may
say that I took a ten-pound note with me, and through the Post Office
sent portions of it on before me and walked towards it.

When I got to the "George" at Hereford I had L7, 13s. 6d. left out of
the L10. I slept in workhouses or in the fields; the professional term
for the former is the "spike," for the latter the "skipper." I went on
"spike" and "skipper" both. I had sent a little portmanteau on before me
to the "George" at Hereford, with the initials "D.C.M." at the side. In
it I had a change of clothes and a shaving kit. When I got into Hereford
I had had no shave for three or four weeks, my boots were absolutely
worn out, my clothes were rags and tatters, and exposure to the sun
had tanned my face. I drew my money at the Post Office at Hereford, and
carrying it in my hand, for all my pockets were worn out, I reached the
"George," a good old-fashioned county hotel.

A set of steps reached up to the main entrance, where stood a waiter
with a professional napkin. He looked up the street, down the street,
and across the street, smiling all the time--a proprietorial sort of
smile. I talked to him from below--one always speaks from below with a
sense of disadvantage--and said, "I want a room." He gave a wave of his
napkin in answer, and said, "Go away, go away." But I did not go away.
I went up the steps, showed him my money, and told him not to play the
fool. I said, "I want a room." He looked at me stolidly, but suddenly I
discovered my portmanteau in a corner. I claimed it at once and mounted
the stairs, the waiter following with his curiously feline footsteps,
and murmuring at intervals, "Well, I am------!" He said it with great
conviction, but he took me to the bath room nevertheless. I got a shave,
changed