would have none of it. But his purse was empty, and so was his
stomach; and as for asking assistance of his uncle, it was returning
like the dog to his vomit. So one day he settled all bills with his
last shilling, tied up his remaining clothes in a bundle, and
stoutly stepped forth into the street to find a job--to hold a
horse, if nothing better offered; when, behold! on the threshold he
met Barnakill himself.

'Whither away?' said that strange personage. 'I was just going to
call on you.'

'To earn my bread by the labour of my hands. So our fathers all
began.'

'And so their sons must all end. Do you want work?'

'Yes, if you have any.'

'Follow me, and carry a trunk home from a shop to my lodgings.'

He strode off, with Lancelot after him; entered a mathematical
instrument maker's shop in the neighbouring street, and pointed out
a heavy corded case to Lancelot, who, with the assistance of the
shopman, got it on his shoulders; and trudging forth through the
streets after his employer, who walked before him silent and
unregarding, felt himself for the first time in his life in the same
situation as nine hundred and ninety-nine out of every thousand of
Adam's descendants, and discovered somewhat to his satisfaction that
when he could once rid his mind of its old superstition that every
one was looking at him, it mattered very little whether the burden
carried were a deal trunk or a Downing Street despatch-box.

His employer's lodgings were in St. Paul's Churchyard. Lancelot set
the trunk down inside the door.

'What do you charge?'

'Sixpence.'

Barnakill looked him steadily in the face, gave him the sixpence,
went in, and shut the door.

Lancelot wandered down the street, half amused at the simple test
which had just been applied to him, and yet sickened with
disappointment; for he had cherished a mysterious fancy that with
this strange being all his hopes of future activity were bound up.
Tregarva's month was nearly over, and yet no tidings of him had
come. Mellot had left London on some mysterious errand of the
prophet's, and for the first time in his life he seemed to stand
utterly alone. He was at one pole, and the whole universe at the
other. It was in vain to tell himself that his own act had placed
him there; that he had friends to whom he might appeal. He would
not, he dare not, accept outward help, even outward friendship,
however hearty and sincere,