ON TRAMP AGAIN
NOW followed a strange experience, an experience for which there is no
name; for I managed to exist, and yet had neither the courage to beg
or sell. Certainly at times I was desperately inclined to steal; but
chance left nothing for my eyes to covet, and I passed harmlessly on.
When I suffered most from lack of rest, or bodily sustenance--as my
actual experience became darker, the thoughts of the future became
brighter, as the stars shine to correspond with the night's shade.
I travelled alone, in spite of the civilities of other tramps, who
desired company, so as to allow no strange voice to disturb my dreams.
Some of these men had an idea that I was mad, because I could give
them little information as to the towns and villages through which I
had that very day passed. They enquired as to the comforts and
conditions of a town's workhouse, of which I knew nothing, for I had
not entered it. They enquired as to its best lodging house, of which I
was again ignorant, having slept in the open air. They enquired how
far I had come that day, which I could not immediately tell them; and
they were curious to know how far I was going, which I did not know.
The strangest part of this experience was that I received help from
people without having made a glance of appeal, and without having
opened my mouth. When I asked for water, tea or milk was often
brought, and food invariably followed. I began to look on this as a
short life of sacrifice, killing a few worthless hours so as to enjoy
thousands of better ones; and I blessed every morning that ushered in
a new day, and worshipped every Sabbath night that closed another
week.
After tramping from town to town, from shire to shire, in two months I
was in Devonshire, on my way to Plymouth. I felt continually attracted
to these large centres of commerce, owing, I suppose, to feeling the
necessity of having an object in view; but was generally starved out
of them in a very short time. A gentleman on horseback, whom I met
near Totnes, saved me from suffering from want, for a couple of days,
at least, when I would reach Plymouth. This gentleman drew his horse
to a halt, so that he might enquire my destination. He seemed to be
much surprised when I told him it was the town of Plymouth.
"Ah, well," he said, glancing towards the ground, "there is only one
foot to get sore, if that is any consolation to you; perhaps this
will help you a little on the way," dropping into my hand three silver
shillings.
Without having this case in mind, I certainly fared better in
Devonshire than in other counties, and found its people more like the
prosperous settlers in new lands. In spite of this, my roughest
experience was in this county, owing to the inclemency of the weather,
and the difficulty of finding shelter. One night I had gone into the
fields, and, getting together a dozen or more wheatsheaves, proceeded
to build a house of them, making a dry floor on the damp earth, with
walls to shelter from the wind, and a roof to shelter from the dew,
leaving just space enough at one end to admit my body. I had been in
here comfortable and warm for some time, when it began to rain. In
half an hour the rain leaked in large drops through the roof, and in
less than an hour these drops had become streams. There was nothing to
do but to remain, for it was now too dark to seek shelter. For ten
hours it rained incessantly, and I was literally wet to the skin, and
no drier than a person immersed in water--not wet to the skin as
people commonly express it when they are damp after a few showers. I
was nothing daunted, looking on this as one of the many hard
experiences that I was compelled to undergo. The next morning I chose
a secluded spot in the open air, so as to lie down where the sun,
coming out warm and strong, would dry me while I slept. Two or three
times have I suffered in this way, but have never felt any ill effects
after.
My worst experience of this kind was in the adjoining county of
Somerset, at the end of September, when I was again making my way back
to London. But it was not the blowing of the wind, or the patter of
the rain; not the rustle of the leaves on the swaying branches; not
the discomforts of having wet clothes, and being without sign of a
barn or empty house in which to shelter; it was none of these that
took the courage out of me: it was a wild laugh, harsh, and apparently
in savage mockery. I had skirted what appeared to be a park, for
something like two miles, and was weary to see the end of it. This at
last seemed to come, for I could see through the trees a large open
field wherein were wheatsheaves, stacked in their threes, and in their
usual rows. Now, had this been a field right up to the roadside, I
would most certainly have had no compunction in spending the night
there, being tired of carrying such a distance my wet and heavy
clothes. As it was, I paused, not feeling inclined to proceed further
on my journey, and yet not half liking to cross that narrow strip of
park, thinking it might contain game that would be well looked after,
making trespassing a serious offence. When in this irresolute state of
mind, I caught sight of a white gate, and a small footpath leading to
the field. Night seemed to be coming on at the rate of a darker shade
to the minute, and I knew well that in another quarter of an hour it
would be difficult to distinguish a house from a barn. Seeing this, I
summoned courage, opened the gate, and made my way quickly along the
path that led to the wheatsheaves. Standing amidst these I waited
silently, listening for any that might be in that locality. Satisfied
that there were not, I picked up a sheaf, and was about to lay it
flat, when I heard a loud startling laugh, coming from the direction
of the road. Dropping the sheaf at once, I bent low, not for a moment
doubting but what some one had seen me from the road, and was taking a
heartless delight in letting me know his discovery. Although I
regretted this, thinking he would inform others, and I would surely be
disturbed before morning, perhaps that very hour--I determined to
travel no further that night, if I could help it, and proceeded to
make my bed, under the impression that he had passed on. I stood up in
full, but had scarcely done so, when my appearance was greeted by
several long shouts of derisive laughter. Now, a homeless man has no
time to be superstitious, he fears the living and not the dead. If he
is sleepy he is not particular about feeling in the darkness of
cellars or vaults; and, if he were sleeping on a grave, and was
awakened by a voice crying--"Arise from off this grave," he would at
once think it the voice of a grave digger, or the keeper of the
cemetery, rather than the ghostly owner of the same. Therefore, I had
not the least idea but what this was the voice of a human being,
although it sounded uncanny and strange. I moved again, and again
heard that loud peal of laughter. This voice evidently only mocked
when I moved, for when I stood still, not a sound was to be heard.
This time I gave up all thoughts of making a bed, and being now filled
with fear, picked up the thick stick with which I travelled, and stood
on the defensive, every moment expecting to see a madman burst from
under the trees and in three leaps and a bound be at my side. These
movements seemed to cause some merriment, but the laughter again
ceased when I stood watching and waiting, and puzzled how to act. Rest
was now out of the question, and I made up my mind to leave that
accursed place instantly. With this intention I made my way towards
the gate. I had scarcely moved in that direction, when the laughing
began, this time continuing for a long time, as though jeering its
last at my defeat. When I reached the gate, and passed through to the
open road, my courage returned, and I looked with some bitterness to
see the figure of some country lout hurrying into the darkness, after
succeeding in robbing me of my sleep; but, to my surprise, I heard no
one, and could see no figure on the road before or behind. It was now
that superstition took hold of me, and I got off with all possible
speed, often looking back to see if I was pursued; and I did not stop
until a human settlement lay between me and that accursed park. Often
have I thought of that night. It is natural to suppose that a
thoughtless ploughman, or farm labourer, would have stood at the
roadside and laughed or shouted once or twice, and then passed on, but
it is scarcely probable that he would have remained there to carry his
joke so far. Granted that he had had the courage to laugh so many
times, taunting one at a distance, where was his courage now that he
had run away, or still stood concealed behind the trees? The voice
sounded human, but still seemed wild and a little unnatural. After
much consideration the only conclusion I could put to the affair was
that the voice came from a bird in the trees; an escaped pet bird that
could imitate the human voice. This solution of the mystery did not
altogether satisfy me, for I have never had cause to believe that any
bird could so perfectly imitate the human voice. Superstition must
have thoroughly possessed me for the once in my life, or I should not
have walked all night, after the painful exertion of the day.
If I settled towards night time in any place where a bird came hopping
restlessly from branch to branch, making a series of short cries of
fear, to let me know that I was lying too close to its nest, I would
without hesitation shift my position, often to my own discomfort; but
at the same time, people could pass to and fro to my indifference.
I would never beg, unless forced to the last extremity, for I feared
the strange fascination that arises from success, after a man has once
lost his shame. On one occasion I saw a well dressed couple wheeling
their bicycles up an incline, which was too steep to ride. Evidently
they were lovers, for they seemed to be in no hurry to reach the top
of the hill and end their conversation by riding. As I drew near the
lady produced her purse, and, placing something in her companion's
hand, motioned over her shoulder in my direction. On which the
gentleman nodded, and immediately glanced back towards me. Now, these
people could not very well make the first overtures, for the simple
reason that they know not whether a man is in want, or is a poor, but
proud and respectable inhabitant of one of the adjacent villages. I
preferred to impress them with the latter opinion, for, when I reached
them, I put on an extra spurt, and was soon beyond their hearing. No,
I would never make a good beggar, for here was money in readiness, to
come at the sound of my voice, or to be drawn by the simple side
glance of my eye. When I was some distance away, I looked back, and
saw the lady looking rather disappointed, receiving back her coin. Her
companion was laughing, no doubt consoling her by saying that I was
hardly likely to be in actual need, or I would have asked for
assistance, and probably my home was somewhere near. The truth of the
matter was that at this time I had not a copper to bless myself with.
Days, weeks, and months went on, and it was now the month of October.
It was now that I began to find the necessity of having a bed every
night, having been satisfied up till then with a bed once or perhaps
twice a week, according to the coppers received. I was back again in
Swindon, having been there some time previous, when on my way to
Devonshire. The first three months of sacrifice were over, and I was
very little the worse for it; but the next three months required
different means, to correspond with the difference in the time of
year. Shelter was necessary every night, and to meet these stern
demands, I needed something to sell, so as to be sure of coppers for
this purpose. With this idea, I bought two dozen laces with the last
three coppers I had, and re-opened business as a hawker. The success
with which I met in this town astonished me, owing, I believe, to its
being a working man's town, and not filled with half-pay officers and
would-be aristocrats that cannot afford, but still feel it their duty,
to live in fine villas in the locality of a royal residence. The poor,
sympathetic people seemed to understand a man's wants. Business was
often transacted without the utterance of words. Taking a pair of
laces, they would give a copper, and, smiling their sympathy, close
the door. Often one would pay for these useless things and not take
them. The kindness of these people so filled me with gratitude, that I
found it impossible to continue selling after I had received enough to
supply the day's wants, which would often be in less than half an
hour. I remained here for two weeks, being able to allow myself half
an ounce of tobacco and a halfpenny paper every day. The only thing
that worried me in this town was the persistence of an old beggar in
the lodging house. Night after night, this man would advise me to go
out and stand pad. This was, he explained, that a man, who is
afflicted with the loss of an arm, a hand or a leg, blind, paralysed
or lame, should stand or sit in a public place in the town, holding in
his hand matches, laces or any other cheap trifle, so that he might
invite the charity of passers by. This old man could not understand
why this was not done, seeing that it required no eloquence--the very
act and the affliction speaking for themselves--and was so successful
a dodge that even able-bodied men could often pick up a shilling or
two in this way. At last I became so impressed with this old man's
eloquence, that I left the lodging house three times in one night with
a firm resolution to stand pad, and three times I returned without
having done so. On the last occasion I did make a little attempt, but
foolishly took up a position where no one could see me.
Before I left Swindon I wrote to a friend of mine in Canada,
requesting him to forward me a pound to London, as soon as possible,
which would be returned to him at the beginning of the new year. I did
this so that I might have a couple of weeks at the end of December to
prepare my MS. and to be ready for business as soon as that time
arrived. It was now the latter end of October, and this pound could
not reach London far short of a month. Thinking I was not likely again
to suffer for want of a bed or food, after this success in Swindon, I
bought a good stock of laces and left that town, with the intention of
working the towns on the outskirts of London, so that when ready to
enter I would be within a day's march. Unfortunately, after leaving
Swindon, success deserted me, which was certainly more my fault than
that of the people, for I made very little appeal to them. Arriving at
Maidenhead, I had the bare price of my bed, with a dry bread supper
and breakfast. My laces were being exhausted, and I was without means
to replenish them. From town to town I walked around London, sometimes
making sixpence, and always less than a shilling a day; and this small
amount had to purchase bed, food, and occasionally a couple of dozen
laces. The monotony of this existence was broken a little at
Guildford, where I was arrested on suspicion of crime. A plain clothes
officer happened to be in the office of the lodging house, who, when
he set eyes upon me, requested a few moments conversation, at the same
time leading the way out into the yard. He then came to a halt under a
lamp, and, taking from his pocket some papers, began to read, often
raising his eyes to scrutinise my person. "Yes," he said, at last, "no
doubt you are the man I want, for you answer his description." "I
suppose," was my answer, "it is a case of arrest?" "It is," he said,
"and you must accompany me to the station." On my way to that place he
asked many a question of what I had done with my overcoat, and as to
the whereabouts of my wife. It had been several years since I had
owned the former, and the latter I had never possessed; but this man
could not be convinced of either. "Which way have you come?" he asked.
To which I mentioned one or two shires. At this he pricked up his
ears, and asked if I had been in a certain town in one of those
shires, which I had, and saw no reason to say otherwise. Unfortunately
this was the town where the guilty man had operated. The detective was
certainly not very smart when he took this confession as evidence of
guilt, for the guilty man would have mentioned that particular town as
one of the last places to visit. I certainly answered to the
description of the man wanted, with the exception of not having a
blotchy face, which had been characteristic of the guilty man. But on
my face they saw no blotches, nor signs of any having been there in
the past. Of course, I was discharged in an hour, and returned to the
lodging house for the night. The following day I happened to be in
Dorking, and was walking through that town, when I heard quick steps
behind me, and a voice cry--"Halt: I want you." Turning my head I saw
it was a police officer. This man at once took possession of me,
saying that he fortunately had been looking through the police station
window, when he saw me passing, and that I answered to the description
of a man wanted--"for that affair at Cheltenham," I added. "Ha," he
said, his face lighting with pleasure, "how well you know." We
returned quietly to the police station, and when I confronted his
superior officer, I asked that person if I was to be arrested in every
town through which I passed; telling my experience the night before at
Guildford. After one or two questions, and a careful reading of the
description paper, also an examination of my pedlar's certificate, he
told me I was at liberty to go my way, at the same time saying that no
man with any sense would have arrested me. After this I was not again
troubled by police officers, owing perhaps, to their having arrested
the guilty man.