He wears an old frock-coat that hangs almost to his heels, and a cloth cap, greasy and worn, upon his head.

His beard is wild and abundant, and his hair falls upon his shoulders in a way worthy of an artist or poet.
Follow him, but not too closely, and you will find it hard to keep up with him, he knows what he is making for.

Neither George Borrow nor Runciman would hold him for a week, for George would want to stop and talk, but this fellow is silent and grim.

A lazar house draws him on, and he needs must reach it, weak and ill-fed though he is! And he will reach others too, for he is on a circular tour.

But next winter will find him in a Westminster lodging-house if he has luck, on the Embankment if he has not.
He has an easy philosophy: "All the things in the world belong to all the men in the world," is his outspoken creed, so he steals when he can, and begs when he cannot steal.
But think of this life when women share it, and children are born into it, and lads and lassies are on the tramp.