the village school was without a teacher. A little further conversation
convinced him that Slingsby was as fit for that as for anything else,
and in a day or two he was seen swaying the rod of empire in the very
school-house where he had often been horsed in the days of his boyhood.

Here he has remained for several years, and being honoured by the
countenance of the squire, and the fast friendship of Mr. Tibbets, he
has grown into much importance and consideration in the village. I am
told, however, that he still shows, now and then, a degree of
restlessness, and a disposition to rove abroad again, and see a little
more of the world; an inclination which seems particularly to haunt him
about spring-time. There is nothing so difficult to conquer as the
vagrant humour, when once it has been fully indulged.

Since I have heard these anecdotes of poor Slingsby, I have more than
once mused upon the picture presented by him and his schoolmate
Ready-Money Jack, on their coming together again after so long a
separation. It is difficult to determine between lots in life, where
each is attended with its peculiar discontents. He who never leaves his
home repines at his monotonous existence, and envies the traveller,
whose life is a constant tissue of wonder and adventure; while he, who
is tossed about the world, looks back with many a sigh to the safe and
quiet shore which he has abandoned. I cannot help thinking, however,
that the man that stays at home, and cultivates the comforts and
pleasures daily springing up around him, stands the best chance for
happiness. There is nothing so fascinating to a young mind as the idea
of travelling; and there is very witchcraft in the old phrase found in
every nursery tale, of "going to seek one's fortune." A continual change
of place, and change of object, promises a continual succession of
adventure and gratification of curiosity. But there is a limit to all