used to rent before he went to prison. They were "To Let." He rang the
bell, and the porter started back when he saw him.

"Hope you don't want to enter, Sir," said he; "but the Guv'nor gave
strict orders, as if you called, that you was not to go in. It ain't
my fault, Sir, but the Guv'nor is the Guv'nor!"

Disheartened by this rebuff, he tried the house of a friend, but
was so scornfully received, that he made up his mind never to visit
another acquaintance. Of course he found that his name had been
removed from his Clubs, and not a single individual would recognise
him. He was an outcast, and a ruined man. So he walked about the
streets until his shoes were in holes, and his last penny exhausted.
Then he lay down to sleep. But this was against the regulations, and
so he was hustled from pillar to post, until at last he found himself
in a very low part of town. He was trudging past a public-house,
when who should emerge from its cheerful-looking recesses but GILES.
"Hallo!" cried the young man, who seemed the picture of health, "are
_you_ down?"

"Yes--very," returned ST. JAMES. "I haven't a friend in the world, and
no one will have anything to say to me."

"What a shame!" cried the other. "Why, with me, I have had a rare old
time! Everybody has been pleased to see me."

"But hasn't your conviction injured you?"

"Not particularly. I have lots of people who support me. Why, if we
were _too_ particular with one another, we shouldn't have a pal in the