What, he asked, had occurred to suggest this new plan? What motive could
incite me to bury myself in rustic obscurity? How did I purpose to
dispose of myself? Had some new friend sprung up more able or more
willing to benefit me than he had been?

"No," I answered, "I have no relation who would own me, or friend who
would protect. If I went into the country it would be to the toilsome
occupations of a day-labourer; but even that was better than my present
situation."

This opinion, he observed, must be newly formed. What was there irksome
or offensive in my present mode of life?

That this man condescended to expostulate with me; to dissuade me from
my new plan; and to enumerate the benefits which he was willing to
confer, penetrated my heart with gratitude. I could not but acknowledge
that leisure and literature, copious and elegant accommodation, were
valuable for their own sake; that all the delights of sensation and
refinements of intelligence were comprised within my present sphere, and
would be nearly wanting in that to which I was going. I felt temporary
compunction for my folly, and determined to adopt a different
deportment. I could not prevail upon myself to unfold the true cause of
my dejection, and permitted him therefore to ascribe it to a kind of
homesickness; to inexperience; and to that ignorance which, on being
ushered into a new scene, is oppressed with a sensation of forlornness.
He remarked that these chimeras would vanish before the influence of
time, and company, and occupation. On the next week he would furnish me
with employment; meanwhile he would introduce me into company, where
intelligence and vivacity would combine to dispel my glooms.