Starting on this journey, without any more delay, I was soon going into the town of Rugby, tired, penniless, and hungry. What was I to do? Something had to be done, and that at once. I had to face the horrible truth that I was now on the verge of starvation. Whilst busy with these unpleasant thoughts, I heard a voice shout to me from the roadside, and, looking in that direction, saw a man sitting in the grass, eating from a paper parcel, which was half spread before him. On going over to see what this man wanted, I found an apparently tall man and large in proportion, who was dressed in seedy looking clothes, which were torn and patched in a good many places. In fact, something seemed to have been gnawing night after night at the bottom of his trousers, taking advantage of him in his sleep, for these hung in tatters and rags just below the calves of his legs. The man had a freckled face, which was almost lost in an abundance of red hair, and his head was as thick with the same. What helped to make his appearance strange, and perhaps ridiculous, was a schoolboy's small cap to cover the crown of such a large head. "Have a mouthful of this," he said, inviting me to partake of some bread and meat. "It is dry eating, I must say, but, as we go into Rugby, we can wash it down with a pint or two of beer." I thanked him for his kindness, and, accepting his invitation, seated myself on the grass. "What's in your bundle," he asked, looking askance at a small brown paper parcel, which contained a clean shirt, socks and a handkerchief, "are you selling anything?" I explained to him that I was a licensed hawker, but had not yet been long enough at the business to make a success of it. "What," he cried with some surprise, "a one legged man not to be successful? I get all I want by just opening of my mouth," although he added with some scorn, "I know that some people cannot beg unless they have something in their hands to sell. But if you travel with me, all you will have to do is to pick up the coppers."