I used to set at my desk in the school, on a fine summer's day, and
instead of studying the book which lay open before me, my eye was
gazing through the window on the green fields and blue hills. How I
envied the happy groups seated on the tops of stage-coaches, chatting,
and joking, and laughing, as they were whirled by the school-house, on
their way to the metropolis. Even the wagoners trudging along beside
their ponderous teams, and traversing the kingdom, from one end to the
other, were objects of envy to me. I fancied to myself what adventures
they must experience, and what odd scenes of life they must witness.
All this was doubtless the poetical temperament working within me, and
tempting me forth into a world of its own creation, which I mistook for
the world of real life.

While my mother lived, this strange propensity to roam was counteracted
by the stronger attractions of home, and by the powerful ties of
affection, which drew me to her side; but now that she was gone, the
attractions had ceased; the ties were severed. I had no longer an
anchorage ground for my heart; but was at the mercy of every vagrant
impulse. Nothing but the narrow allowance on which my father kept me,
and the consequent penury of my purse, prevented me from mounting the
top of a stage-coach and launching myself adrift on the great ocean of
life.

Just about this time the village was agitated for a day or two, by the
passing through of several caravans, containing wild beasts, and other
spectacles for a great fair annually held at a neighboring town.

I had never seen a fair of any consequence, and my curiosity was
Powerfully awakened by this bustle of preparation. I gazed with respect