"Ah, sir," said Matt, as he hugged a lamp-post, "the times that I've seen them lugging the little chests and barrels in there--heavy so that they could scarcely lift them, and any one of 'em would have set me up for life. Specie, they call it, sir; species as I was always unable to collect much of in my rambles through life; and it wouldn't take a deal to make me comfortable, anyhow. Precious cold here, sir, for an old man like me, and I don't know that I'd say no, just now, to one of those little iron bedsteads with its clean sheets in the hospital--leastways, if one could feel sure nobody had just died upon it, for the thought of that gives one a turn like, and seems to fidget. Precious cold, sir! Talk about the internal heat of the earth, I wish there was a little more external. Crust of the earth, sir? Yes, sir, there's plenty of crust, and precious little crumb. Red-hot fluid state inside, eh? Then I shall move, sir--move. I was a good will to when I was in the hospital; but I think I shall make up my mind soon, for the world ain't safe--a volcanic, earthquaky place. I shall flit, as they say down north." "Cold, cold, cold, sir!" shivered the poor old fellow after a pause, as he looked down the long deserted City streets, that teemed so with busy life in the daytime. "That scamp of a valet never reminded me of my greatcoat--a scoundrel. Thinks a deal more of his own confounded self, sir, than he does of his master. Now look here, sir--There; I know, of course--it's all right; I'm a-going on, I am. `Move on,' says you; but make the most of it, old chap; for you won't have me to move on much longer." The old man spoke sadly as an approaching policeman cut short his address; but he went on before he could be told, and made his way slowly down into Cannon-street, where he stopped before another post.