"Pray," said I, seeing him at loss for an answer, "what did you mean
by the 'Brotherhood of the Roadside'?"
"I meant the Comradeship o' Poverty, friend, the Fellowship o' the
Friendless, the Hospitality o' the Homeless. The poor folk on the
padding-lay, such as live on the road and by the road, help one
another when needful--which is frequent. Those as have little give
freely to them as have none--I to-day, you to-morrow. The world would
be a poor place else, 'specially for the likes o' we."
"Do you mean that all who tramp the road know each other?"
"Well, 'ardly that, brother. To be sure, I know most o' the reg'lar
padding-coves, but you don't have to know a man to help him."
"Are you acquainted with a peddler called Gabbing Dick?"
"Aye, poor soul. Dick's father was hung for a crime he didn't commit,
just afore Dick was born, which drove his poor mother mad, which is
apt to make a child grow up a little queer, d'ye see?"
"And old Moll?" said I, with growing diffidence.
"Aye, a fine figure of a woman she was once, I mind. But her man was
pressed aboard ship and killed, and she starved along of her babby,
though she did all she could to live for the child's sake and when it
died, she--well, look at her now, poor soul!"
"The world would seem a very hard and cruel place!" I exclaimed.
"Sometimes, brother--'specially for the poor and friendless. But if
there's shadow there's sun, and if there's darkness there's always the
dawn.
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