" The other men drank the toast
with applause. It is curious to remember how cautious people were in
those troublous days. One could never be sure of your friend's true
opinion. It was a time when there were so many spies abroad that
everybody was suspicious of his neighbour. I am sure that a good half
of that company was disloyal; yet they drank that toast, stamping their
feet, as though they would have shed their blood for King James with all
the pleasure in life. "Are you for King James, young waterman?" said one
of the men to me. "Yes," I said, "I am for the rightful King." At this
they all laughed. One of the men said that if there were many like me
the Duke of Monmouth might spare himself the trouble of coming over.

I finished my cake quietly, after that. Then, as the tide was not yet
making, to help me back up the river, I wandered into Wapping fields,
where a gang of beggars camped. They were a dirtier, more troublesome
company than the worst of the Oulton gipsies. They crowded round me,
whining about their miseries, with the fawning smiles of professional
beggars. There were children among them who lied about their wants as
glibly as their parents lied. The Oulton beggars had taught me to refuse
such people, as being, nearly always, knaves; so I said that I had
nothing for them. I felt the hands of these thieves lightly feeling the
outsides of my pockets for something worth taking. One of them with
a sudden thrust upon me snatched my handkerchief. He tossed it to a
friend. As he started to run from me, a young man with an evil, weak
face pushed me backwards with a violent shove. I staggered back, from
the push, to fall over a boy who had crouched behind me there, ready to
upset me. When I got up, rather shaken from my fall, the dirty gang
was scattering to its burrow; for they lived, like beasts, in holes
scratched in the ground, thatched over with sacks or old clothes.
I hurried back toward Wapping in the hope of finding a constable to
recover my handkerchief for me. The constable (when I found him) refused
to stir until I made it worth his while. Sixpence was his fee, he said,
but he was sure that a handsome young gentleman like myself would not
grudge a sixpence to recover a handkerchief. On searching for my purse
(in which I had about two shillings) I found that that had gone, too,
"nicked" by these thieves. I told the Constable that my purse had been
stolen.

"Oh," he said. "How much was in it?" I told h