182 DICK ROOK. 



began to cry for the first time since I left home. 

 I was, however, a hardy lad, with a sufficiency of 

 clothes on my back to keep out the weather, and 

 so I set off to try what I could do. I soon ar- 

 rived at an encampment of gypsies, who gave me 

 something to eat, and recommended me to station 

 myself at the top of a neighbouring hill, and to 

 lock the wheels of carriages. In this way I earned 

 halfpence enough to support myself besides some- 

 times picking bilberries, which I sold readily 

 enough. To be sure, the devil sometimes tempted 

 me to do what I ought not, for I had plenty of 

 bad examples before me, the poor people of Sussex 

 not being better than their neighbours. But I 

 kept myself honest, and nothing can be said against 

 me on that score. In time I grew to be a man ; 

 and what with helping keepers, who gave me a 

 good word to their masters, and doing the best I 

 could for myself, I managed to get on better than 

 some others. Indeed, the gentlemen about these 

 parts are very kind to me, and would miss me, if 

 absent, at their grand shooting parties.' 5 



Such was Dick Rook's little history; but he 

 suppressed a part of it, with which I afterwards 

 became acquainted. It appears, that in the course 

 of his vagabond life, he had wandered to that part 

 of the borders of Sussex, where there is a wild and 

 dreary tract, near the place well known as the 

 Devil's Punch-bowl. On the top of the hill, after 



