"Now look here, sir," said Matt, as though he had not been interrupted for an instant, "we want an establishment here in town--a club for gentlemen in my position to-night--where we could go and have a basin of hot tea or coffee, or gruel if you like, and a decent, dry, clean, warm bed under shelter, without going to the workhouse. Now, sir, when my ship comes in, I mean to establish just such a place, and make it self-supporting. None of your casual wards in workhouses, but a decent place where honest people can go and do their bit of work over night or in the morning, to earn their bed and board. Let the idle vagabonds and tramps, sir, go to the casual ward; for there's hundreds of decent people in town every night would be glad to do a bit of work and get their meal and bed. Seems hard, sir," said Matt pitifully, as the cold night wind swept down the street, and he shivered miserably, "seems hard, sir, that in this great place where the wealth is almost running over the side, things are so, that an old chap like me should stand here to-night, as I've stood scores of times before, wanting the work and means for a meal and bed, and not able to get 'em. Now, let's see, sir; what shall we call my place? Hotel? No, that's too fine and grand. Home? Well, no; that sounds like humbugging the poor creatures. `There's no place like home!' I wish I was at home, I do," shivered the old man. "There, now, there it is again! Another policeman. Public streets, indeed! Ain't I one of the public, and haven't I a right to be in them? Strange thing a man can't address a few words in confidence to a friend without one of these fellows sticking his nose in. There, I'm a-going. I ain't going to commit a burglary upon the post and walk off with the gas. I wish there wasn't a policeman on the face of the blessed earth! I'm a-going;" and in obedience to the wag of the constable's head, the old man walked on towards London-bridge; but before he was halfway there, he made another stoppage beneath a lamp.