repose to my weary limbs by seating myself on a stall. No wonder some
fatigue was felt by me, accustomed as I was to strenuous exertions,
since, exclusive of the minutes spent at breakfast and dinner, I had
travelled fifteen hours and forty-five miles.

I began now to reflect, with some earnestness, on my condition. I was a
stranger, friendless and moneyless. I was unable to purchase food and
shelter, and was wholly unused to the business of begging. Hunger was
the only serious inconvenience to which I was immediately exposed. I had
no objection to spend the night in the spot where I then sat. I had no
fear that my visions would be troubled by the officers of police. It was
no crime to be without a home; but how should I supply my present
cravings and the cravings of to-morrow?

At length it occurred to me that one of our country neighbours was
probably at this time in the city. He kept a store as well as cultivated
a farm. He was a plain and well-meaning man, and, should I be so
fortunate as to meet him, his superior knowledge of the city might be of
essential benefit to me in my present forlorn circumstances. His
generosity might likewise induce him to lend me so much as would
purchase one meal. I had formed the resolution to leave the city next
day, and was astonished at the folly that had led me into it; but,
meanwhile, my physical wants must be supplied.

Where should I look for this man? In the course of conversation I
recollected him to have referred to the place of his temporary abode. It
was an inn; but the sign or the name of the keeper for some time
withstood all my efforts to recall them.

At length I lighted on the last. It was Lesher's tavern. I immediately