Just speaking of tramps:

Once upon a country road, FH was asked by a tramp-man for a fill of tobacco. So, a small lump was cut from a plug, shredded, rubbed, and pressed into place. A match was then, naturally, required. It was produced, and the pipe was lit. The tramp-man, while puffing vigorously, asked Frank if he could have a few matches just in case the pipe went out and had to be relit. So, the matches were passed over. The tramp-man thanked him, and went on his way. He had only travelled a few yards till Frank called after him, "and are ye all right for spit?"