he
journey of life; it is typical of the season of youth and hope, and it
is meet that the sky should be clear, and the sun shine brightly, when
the little pilgrim sets out upon his tour. He will see clouds and
storms before he has gone far--let him have a fair start.
He had to walk five miles to the nearest railroad station. His road
lay by the house of his friend, Squire Lee; and as he was approaching
it, he met Annie. She said she had come out to take her morning walk;
but Bobby knew very well that she did not usually walk till an hour
later; which, with the fact that she had asked him particularly, the
day before, what time he was going, made Bobby believe that she had
come out to say good by, and bid him God speed on his journey. At any
rate, he was very glad to see her. He said a great many pretty things
to her, and talked so big about what he was going to do, that the
little maiden could hardly help laughing in his face.
Then at the house he shook hands with the squire and shook hands again
with Annie, and resumed his journey. His heart felt lighter for having
met them, or at least for having met one of them, if not both; for
Annie's eyes were so full of sunshine that they seemed to gladden his
heart, and make him feel truer and stronger.
After a pleasant walk, for he scarcely heeded the distance, so full was
he of his big thoughts, he reached the railroad station. The cars had
not yet arrived, and would not for half an hour.
"Why should I give them a dollar for carrying me to Boston, when I can
just as well walk? If I get tired, I can sit down and rest me. If I
save the dollar, I shall have to earn only fifty-nine more to pay my
note. So here goes;" and he started down the track.
CHAPTER VII.
IN WHICH BOBBY STANDS UP FOR "CERTAIN INALIENABLE RIGHTS."
Whether it was wise policy, or "penny wise and pound foolish" policy
for Bobby to undertake such a long walk, is certainly a debatable
question; but as my young readers would probably object to an argument,
we will follow him to the city, and let every one settle the point to
suit himself.
His cheerful heart made the road smooth beneath his feet. He had
always been accustomed to an active, busy life, and had probably often
walked more than twenty miles in a day. About ten o'clock, though he
did not feel much fatigued, he seated himself on a rock by a brook from
which he had just taken a drink, to rest himself. He had walked slowly
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