egan lugging me
along, "that your grandam should have died and left you nothing. 'Tis
all clear as Bexley ale in a yard-glass. Lawyers ha' been reading the
will to the gentlefolks, and there's nothing for thee, poor castaway."

I began to cry, not because my Grandmother had disinherited me, but
because this common horse-lout called me a "castaway," and because I
knew myself to be one.

"Don't fret," the groom continued; "there'll be greet enough for thee
when thou'rt older; for thou'lt have a hard time on't, or my name's not
Dick Snaffle."

We had a long way to reach the Wagon, which started from a Tavern called
the "Pillars of Hercules," right on the other side of Hyde Park. I was
desperately tired when we came thither, and craved leave to sit on a
bench before the door, between the Sign-post and the Horse-trough. So
low was I fallen. A beggar came alongside of me, and as I dozed tried to
pick my pocket. There was nothing in it--not even a crust; and he hit me
a savage blow over the mouth because I had nothing to be robbed of. Anon
comes Dick Snaffle, who, telling me that the Saddler of Bawtry was
hanged for leaving his liquor, and that he had no mind for a halter
while good ale was to be drunk, had been comforting himself within the
tavern; and he finding me all blubbered with grief at the blow I had
gotten from the beggar, fetches him a sound kick; and so the two fell to
fighting, till out comes the tapster, raving at Tom Ostler to duck the
cutpurse cadger in the Horse-trough. There was much more sport out of
doors in my young days than now.

At last the Wagon, for which we had another good hour to wait, came
lumbering up to the Pillars of Hercules; and after the Wagoner had
fought with a Grenadier, who wanted to go to Brentford for fourpence,
and would have stabbed the man with his bayonet had not his hand been
stayed, the Groom took me up, and put me on the straw inside. He paid
the Wagoner some money for me, and also gave into his keeping a little
bundle, containing, I suppose, some change of raiment for me, saying
that more would be sent after me when needed; and so, handing him too a
letter, he bade me Godd'en, and went on his way with the Grenadier, a
Sweep, and a Gipsy woman, who was importunate that he should cross her
hand with silver, in order that he might know all about the great
Fortune that he was to wed, as Tom Philbrick did in the ballad. And this
was the way in which the Servants of the Quality s