The milestone-The meditation-Want to get up?-The off-hand leader-Sixteen shillings-The near-hand wheeler-All right.
IN about two hours I had cleared the Great City,and got beyond the suburban villages,or rather towns,in the direction in which I was travelling;I was in a broad and excellent road,leading I knew not whither.I now slackened my pace,which had hitherto been great.
Presently,coming to a milestone on which was graven nine miles,Irested against it,and looking round towards the vast city,which had long ceased to be visible,I fell into a train of meditation.
I thought of all my ways and doings since the day of my first arrival in that vast city-I had worked and toiled,and,though I had accomplished nothing at all commensurate with the hopes which Ihad entertained previous to my arrival,I had achieved my own living,preserved my independence,and become indebted to no one.
I was now quitting it,poor in purse,it is true,but not wholly empty;rather ailing it may be,but not broken in health;and,with hope within my bosom,had I not cause upon the whole to be thankful?Perhaps there were some who,arriving at the same time under not more favourable circumstances,had accomplished much more,and whose future was far more hopeful-Good!But there might be others who,in spite of all their efforts,had been either trodden down in the press,never more to be heard of,or were quitting that mighty town broken in purse,broken in health,and,oh!with not one dear hope to cheer them.Had I not,upon the whole,abundant cause to be grateful?Truly,yes!
My meditation over,I left the milestone and proceeded on my way in the same direction as before until the night began to close in.I had always been a good pedestrian;but now,whether owing to indisposition or to not having for some time past been much in the habit of taking such lengthy walks,I began to feel not a little weary.Just as I was thinking of putting up for the night at the next inn or public-house I should arrive at,I heard what sounded like a coach coming up rapidly behind me.Induced,perhaps,by the weariness which I felt,I stopped and looked wistfully in the direction of the sound;presently up came a coach,seemingly a mail,drawn by four bounding horses-there was no one upon it but the coachman and the guard;when nearly parallel with me it stopped.'Want to get up?'sounded a voice,in the true coachman-like tone-half querulous,half authoritative.I hesitated;I was tired,it is true,but I had left London bound on a pedestrian excursion,and I did not much like the idea of having recourse to a coach after accomplishing so very inconsiderable a distance.
