moleskin; his boots reached almost to his knees; for head-covering
he had the cheapest kind of undyed felt, its form exactly that of
the old petasus. To say that his aspect was Venerable would serve to
present him in a measure, yet would not be wholly accurate, for
there was too much of past struggle and present anxiety in his
countenance to permit full expression of the natural dignity of the
features. It was a fine face and might have been distinctly noble,
but circumstances had marred the purpose of Nature; you perceived
that his cares had too often been of the kind which are created by
ignoble necessities, such as leave to most men of his standing a
bare humanity of visage. He had long thin white hair; his beard was
short and merely grizzled. In his left hand he carried a bundle,
which probably contained clothing.

The burial-ground by which he had paused was as little restful to
the eye as are most of those discoverable in the byways of London.
The small trees that grew about it shivered in their leaflessness;
the rank grass was wan under the failing day; most of the stones
leaned this way or that, emblems of neglect (they were very white at
the top, and darkened downwards till the damp soil made them black),
and certain cats and dogs were prowling or sporting among the
graves. At this corner the east wind blew with malice such as it
never puts forth save where there are poorly clad people to be
pierced; it swept before it thin clouds of unsavoury dust, mingled
with the light refuse of the streets. Above the shapeless houses
night was signalling a murky approach; the sky--if sky it could be
called--gave threatening of sleet, perchance of snow. And on every
side was the rumble of traffic, the voiceful evidence of toil and of
poverty; hawkers were crying their goods; the inevitable organ was
clanging before a public-house hard by; the crumpet-man was