This eBook was produced by Pat Castevens and David Widger PART V. CHAPTER I. In setting off the next morning, the Boots, whose heart I had won by an extra sixpence for calling me betimes, good-naturedly informed me that I might save a mile of the journey, and have a very pleasant walk into the bargain, if I took the footpath through a gentleman's park, the lodge of which I should see about seven miles from the town. "And the grounds are showed too," said the Boots, "if so be you has a mind to stay and see 'em. But don't you go to the gardener,--he'll want half a crown; there's an old 'Oman at the lodge who will show you all that's worth seeing--the walks and the big cascade--for a tizzy. You may make use of my name," he added proudly,--"Bob, boots at the 'Lion.' She be a haunt o' mine, and she minds them that come from me perticklerly." Not doubting that the purest philanthropy actuated these counsels, I thanked my shock-headed friend, and asked carelessly to whom the park belonged. "To Muster Trevanion, the great parliament man," answered the Boots. "You has heard o' him, I guess, sir?" I shook my head, surprised every hour more and more to find how very little there was in it. "They takes in the 'Moderate Man's Journal' at the 'Lamb:' and they say in the tap there that he's one of the cleverest chaps in the House o' Commons," continued the Boots, in a confidential whisper. "But we takes in the 'People's Thunderbolt' at the 'Lion,' and we knows better this Muster Trevanion: he is but a trimmer,--milk and water,--no horator,-- not the right sort; you understand?" Perfectly satisfied that I understood nothing about it, I smiled, and said, "Oh, yes!" and slipping on my knapsack, commenced my adventures, the Boots bawling after me, "Mind, sir, you tells haunt I sent you!"