son was bred a scholar, I determined to send him to town, where
his abilities might contribute to our support and his own. The
separation of friends and families is, perhaps, one of the most
distressful circumstances attendant on penury. The day soon
arrived on which we were to disperse for the first time. My son,
after taking leave of his mother and the rest, who mingled their
tears with their kisses, came to ask a blessing from me. This I
gave him from my heart, and which, added to five guineas, was all
the patrimony I had now to bestow. 'You are going, my boy,' cried
I, 'to London on foot, in the manner Hooker, your great ancestor,
travelled there before you. Take from me the same horse that was
given him by the good bishop Jewel, this staff, and take this
book too, it will be your comfort on the way: these two lines in
it are worth a million, I have been young, and now am old; yet
never saw I the righteous man forsaken, or his seed begging their
bread. Let this be your consolation as you travel on. Go, my boy,
whatever be thy fortune let me see thee once a year; still keep a
good heart, and farewell.' As he was possest of integrity and
honour, I was under no apprehensions from throwing him naked into
the amphitheatre of life; for I knew he would act a good part
whether vanquished or victorious. His departure only prepared the
way for our own, which arrived a few days afterwards. The leaving
a neighbourhood in which we had enjoyed so many hours of
tranquility, was not without a tear, which scarce fortitude
itself could suppress. Besides, a journey of seventy miles to a
family that had hitherto never been above ten from home, filled
us with apprehension, and the cries of the poor, who followed us
for some miles, contributed to encrease it. The first day's
journey brought us in safety within thirty miles of our future
retreat, and we put up for the night at an obscure inn in a