At that the warden started again, and turning quickly upon me, said: “How! no money! How can that be? You don’t look like a man that has no money.”—“However I look,” said I, “I tell thee the truth, that I have no money; and I tell it to forewarn thee, that thou mayest not bring any charge upon the town.”—“I wonder,” said he, “what art you have got, that you can travel without money; you can do more, I assure you, than I can.” I making no answer, he went on and said: “Well, well! but if you have no money, you have a good horse under you, and we can distrain him for the charge.”—“But,” said I, “the horse is not mine.”—“No,” said he; “but you have a good coat on your back, and that I hope is your own.”—“No,” said I, “but it is not, for I borrowed both the horse and the coat.” With that the warden, holding up his hands and smiling, said: “Bless me! I never met with such a man as you are before. What! were you set out by the parish?” Then turning to the constable, he said: “Have him to the Greyhound, and bid the people be civil to him.” Accordingly, to the Greyhound I was led, my horse set up, and I put into a large room, and some account, I suppose, given of me to the people of the house. This was new work to me, and what the issue of it would be I could not foresee; but being left there alone, I sat down, and retired in spirit to the Lord, in whom alone my strength and safety were, and begged support of Him; even that He would be pleased to give me wisdom and words to answer the warden when I should come to be examined again before him. After some time, having pen, ink, and paper about me, I set myself to write what I thought might be proper, if occasion served, to give the warden; and while I was writing, the master of the house, being come home from his worship, sent the tapster to me to invite me to dine with him. I bid him tell his master that I had not any money to pay for my dinner. He sent the man again to tell me I should be welcome to dine with him though I had no money. I desired him to tell his master “that I was very sensible of his civility and kindness in so courteously inviting me to his table, but I had not freedom to eat of his meat unless I could have paid for it.” So he went on with his dinner, and I with my writing. But before I had finished what was on my mind to write, the constable came again, bringing with him his fellow-constable. This was a brisk genteel young man, a shopkeeper in the town, whose name was Cherry. They saluted me very civilly, and told me they were come to have me before the warden. This put an end to my writing, which I put into my pocket, and went along with them.