When I left two or three other persons had appeared upon the
scene, and the man in rags was addressing them with a degree of
frankness, which, in that direction, left little to be desired. I
slunk away unnoticed. But had not gone far before I had almost
decided that I might as well have thrown in my fortune with the
bolder wretch, and smashed a window too. Indeed, more than once my
feet faltered, as I all but returned to do the feat which I had
left undone.

A more miserable night for an out-of-door excursion I could hardly
have chosen. The rain was like a mist, and was not only drenching
me to the skin, but it was rendering it difficult to see more than
a little distance in any direction. The neighbourhood was badly
lighted. It was one in which I was a stranger, I had come to
Hammersmith as a last resource. It had seemed to me that I had
tried to find some occupation which would enable me to keep body
and soul together in every other part of London, and that now only
Hammersmith was left. And, at Hammersmith, even the workhouse
would have none of me!

Retreating from the inhospitable portal of the casual ward, I had
taken the first turning to the left,--and, at the moment, had been
glad to take it. In the darkness and the rain, the locality which
I was entering appeared unfinished. I seemed to be leaving
civilisation behind me. The path was unpaved; the road rough and
uneven, as if it had never been properly made. Houses were few and
far between. Those which I did encounter, seemed, in the imperfect
light, amid the general desolation, to be cottages which were
crumbling to decay.