He is fairly educated and can write a plausible letter.

He is dangerous; his stock-in-trade comprises local directories, WHO'S WHO, annual reports of charitable societies, clergymen's lists, etc.

He is a begging-letter writer, and moves from lodging-house to lodging-house; he writes letters for any of the inmates who have some particular tale of woe to unfold, or some urgent appeal to make, and he receives the major part of the resultant charity.
He is drunken and bestial, he is a parasite of the worst description, for he preys alike on the benevolent and upon the poor wretches whose cause he espouses.
He assumes many names, he changes his addresses adroitly, and ticks off very carefully the names and addresses of people he has defrauded.
In fact, he is so clever and slippery that the police and the Charity Organisation Society cannot locate him.

So he thrives, a type of many, for every one of London's common lodging-houses can provide us with one or more such cunning rogues.
Yonder sits a "wandering boy" about twenty-eight years of age.

He is not thriving, and he must needs be content with simple bread and cheese.