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Kingsley, Charles, 1819-1875

"Alton Locke, Tailor and Poet An Autobiography"


"And have you been drinking arter all?"
"I never--a drop in my life--nothing but bread-and-water this fortnight."
And it was true. I had been paying for my own food, and had stinted
myself to such an extent, that between starvation, want of sleep, and
over-exertion, I was worn to a shadow, and the last drop had filled the
cup; the evening's scene and its consequences had been too much for me, and
in the middle of an attempt to explain matters to the policeman, I dropped
on the pavement, bruising my face heavily.
He picked me up, put me under one arm and my bundle under the other, and
was proceeding on his march, when three men came rollicking up.
"Hullo, Poleax--Costello--What's that? Work for us? A demp unpleasant
body?"
"Oh, Mr. Bromley, sir! Hope you're well, sir! Werry rum go this here, sir!
I finds this cove in the streets. He says his mother turned him out o'
doors. He seems very fair spoken, and very bad in he's head, and very bad
in he's chest, and very bad in he's legs, he does. And I can't come to no
conclusions respecting my conduct in this here case, nohow!"
"Memorialize the Health of Towns Commission," suggested one.


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