gether with those idle fellows who constantly hang about coach yards, without other visible means of livelihood than what they can pick up, and are therefore said to be "upon the kedge." But inn yards are nothing like so much infested as they were twenty years ago, because of the officers, who take away the offenders, "when they are wanted," but not until then, as it would not be worth their while. A complete clearance might be made, but the men not having done any thing capital, that is to say, rewardable by statute, the officers do not choose to interrupt them, and they accordingly go on nibbling, until something great turns up,—and then justice interferes.
The plan is, when the things lie about promiscuously, for the thief to become officious, as if willing to be serviceable; he looks about in a simple manner, asks an unmeaning question of one or other of the passengers, as if they were well known to each other; and then turning about with a smile, he takes up some box or bundle which he pretends to carry towards the house, or to the scales (as the case may be) where the baggage ought to go, still keeping near to or talking with the same passenger as before. Meanwhile, having taken a view of all being clear out
