rned away everywhere. He spent the first day in this manner, and at
night, tired and hungry, he laid down on the stone steps of a portico,
and fell asleep. The next morning he awoke shivering with the cold,
faint with hunger. He asked at the areas for something to eat, but no
one would give him anything. At a pump he obtained a drink of water--
that was all he could obtain, for it cost nothing. Another day passed
without food, and the poor boy again sheltered himself for the night at
a rich man's door in Berkeley-square.

CHAPTER SEVEN.

IF YOU WANT EMPLOYMENT GO TO LONDON.

The exhausted lad awoke again, and pursued his useless task of appeals
for food and employment. It was a bright day, and there was some little
warmth to be collected by basking in the rays of the sun, when our hero
wended his way through Saint James's Park, faint, hungry, and
disconsolate. There were several people seated on the benches; and
Joey, weak as he was, did not venture to go near them, but crawled
along. At last, after wandering up and down, looking for pity in
everybody's face as they passed, and receiving none, he felt that he
could not stand much longer, and emboldened by desperation, he
approached a bench that was occupied by one person. At first he only
rested on the arm of the bench, but, as the person sitting down appeared
not to observe him, he timidly took a seat at the farther end. The
personage who occupied the other part of the bench was a man dressed in
a morning suit _a la militaire_ and black stock. He had clean gloves
and a small cane in his hand, with which he was describing circles on
the gravel before him, evidently in deep thought. In height he was full
six feet, and his proportions combined strength with symmetry. His
features were remarkably handsome, his dark hair had a natural curl, and
his whiskers and mustachios (for he wore those military appendages) were
evidently the objects of much attention and solicitude. We may as well
here observe, that although so favoured by nature, still there would
have been considered something wanting in him by those who had been
accustomed to move in the first circles, to make him the refined
gentleman. His movements and carriage were not inelegant, but there was
a certain _retinue_ wanting. He bowed well, but still it was not
exactly the bow of a gentleman. The nursery-maids as they passed by
said, "Dear me, what a handsome gentleman!" but had the remark been