"One day my friend the barber called me aside: "Say, kid, I've been delegated to tell you that you've got lice." ... ... I could scarcely have felt more beyond the pale, more a pariah. I had not detected them before, because I was ignorant of the thought of having them, and because their grey colour was exactly that of the inside of my woolen shirt. ... I look back with a shudder even yet to that experience. During my subsequent tramp-career I never could grow callous to vermin, as a few others that I met, did. Once I met a tramp who advised me not to bother about 'em .. and you would soon get used to 'em .. and not feel them biting al all .. but most tramps "boil up"—that is, take off their clothes, a piece at a time, and boil them—whenever they find opportunity."