I was to begin. I said my prayers more fervently that night than I
had said them for years, and determined that, please God, I would
always go to church every Sunday morning no matter how fine it might
be. There were only three clear week-days, Thursday, Friday, and
Saturday, to be got through. I imagined them to be holidays,
although I had never before taken three consecutive holidays, save
in those wretched Augusts or Septembers, when pride annually forced
me away to the seaside. At last Monday came: our breakfast hour
was henceforth fixed at half-past seven, and at eight o'clock I
started to walk to Kennington, and thence to ride by an omnibus to
King William's statue. Oh! with what joy did I shut the little
garden gate and march down the road, once more somebody! I looked
round, saw other little front gates open, each by-street
contributed, so that in the Kennington Road there was almost a
procession moving steadily and uniformly City-wards, and _I_ was in
it. I was still a part of the great world; something depended on
me. Fifty-six? yes, but what was that? Many men are at their best
at fifty-six. So exhilarated was I, that just before I mounted the
omnibus--it was a cold morning, but I would not ride inside--I
treated myself to a twopenny cigar. My excitement soon wore off. I
could not so far forget myself as not to make suggestions now and
then, and Jackman took a delight in snubbing me. It was a trial to
me also to sit with the clerks. We had never set ourselves up as
grand people at Stockwell, but I had all my life been accustomed to
delicate food properly cooked, and now that my appetite was
declining with my years, I would almost at any time have gone
without a meal rather than eat anything that was coarse or dirtily
served. My colleagues ridiculed my 'Stockwell manners,' as they
called them, and were very witty, so they thought, in their
inquiries when I produced my sandwich wrapped up in a clean napkin,