ess manner in which we were moving on, tired us both much
more effectually than hurrying along at a swift trot would have done, for
I have observed that when the energies of the body are not exerted a
languor frequently comes over it. At length arriving at a very large
building with an archway, near the entrance of a town, I sat down on what
appeared to be a stepping-block, and presently experienced a great
depression of spirits. I began to ask myself whither I was going, and
what I should do with myself and the horse which I held by the bridle? It
appeared to me that I was alone in the world with the poor animal, who
looked for support to me, who knew not how to support myself. Then the
image of Isopel Berners came into my mind, and when I thought how I had
lost her for ever, and how happy I might have been with her in the New
World had she not deserted me, I became yet more miserable.

As I sat in this state of mind, I suddenly felt some one clap me on the
shoulder, and heard a voice say, "Ha! comrade of the dingle, what chance
has brought you into these parts?" I turned round, and beheld a man in
the dress of a postillion, whom I instantly recognized as he to whom I
had rendered assistance on the night of the storm.

"Ah!" said I, "is it you? I am glad to see you, for I was feeling very
lonely and melancholy."

"Lonely and melancholy," he replied, "how is that? how can any one be
lonely and melancholy with such a noble horse as that you hold by the
bridle?"

"The horse," said I, "is one cause of my melancholy, for I know not in
the world what to do with it."

"It is your own?"

"Yes," said I, "I may call it my own, though I borrowed the money to
purchase it."

"Well, why don't you sell it?"

"It is not always easy to find a purchaser for a horse like this," said
I; "can you recommend me one?"

"I? Why no, not exactly; but you'll find a purchaser shortly--pooh! if
you have no other cause for disquiet than that horse, cheer up, man,
don't be cast down. Have you nothing else on your mind? By the bye,
what's become of the young woman you were keeping company with in that
queer lodging place of yours?"

"She has left me," said I.

"You quarrelled, I suppose?"

"No," said I, "we did not exactly quarrel, but we are parted."

"Well," replied he, "but you will soon come together again."

"No," said I, "we are parted for ever."

"For ever! Pooh! you little know how people sometimes come together
a