with bread and milk. Being prepared to depart, I took him aside. "What
is to pay?" said I.--"Did you drink any thing, sir?"--"Certainly. I
drank the milk which was furnished."--"But any liquors, sir?"---"No."

He deliberated a moment, and then, assuming an air of disinterestedness,
"'Tis our custom to charge dinner and club; but, as you drank nothing,
we'll let the club go. A mere dinner is half a dollar, sir."

He had no leisure to attend to my fluctuations. After debating with
myself on what was to be done, I concluded that compliance was best,
and, leaving the money at the bar, resumed my way.

I had not performed more than half my journey, yet my purse was entirely
exhausted. This was a specimen of the cost incurred by living at an inn.
If I entered the city, a tavern must, at least for some time, be my
abode; but I had not a farthing remaining to defray my charges. My
father had formerly entertained a boarder for a dollar per week, and, in
case of need, I was willing to subsist upon coarser fare and lie on a
harder bed than those with which our guest had been supplied. These
facts had been the foundation of my negligence on this occasion.

What was now to be done? To return to my paternal mansion was
impossible. To relinquish my design of entering the city and to seek a
temporary asylum, if not permanent employment, at some one of the
plantations within view, was the most obvious expedient. These
deliberations did not slacken my pace. I was almost unmindful of my way,
when I found I had passed Schuylkill at the upper bridge. I was now
within the precincts of the city, and night was hastening. It behooved
me to come to a speedy decision.