so as to husband his strength; and he felt confident that he should be
able to accomplish the journey without injury to himself.

After resting for half an hour, he resumed his walk. At twelve o'clock
he reached a point from which he obtained his first view of the city.
His heart bounded at the sight, and his first impulse was to increase
his speed so that he should the sooner gratify his curiosity; but a
second thought reminded him that he had eaten nothing since breakfast;
so, finding a shady tree by the road side, he seated himself on a stone
to eat the luncheon which his considerate mother had placed in his
bundle.

Thus refreshed, he felt like a new man, and continued his journey again
till he was on the very outskirts of the city, where a sign, "No
passing over this bridge," interrupted his farther progress. Unlike
many others, Bobby took this sign literally, and did not venture to
cross the bridge. Having some doubts as to the direct road to the
city, he hailed a man in a butcher's cart, who not only pointed the
way, but gave him an invitation to ride with him, which Bobby was glad
to accept.

They crossed the Milldam, and the little pilgrim forgot the long walk
he had taken--forgot Riverdale, his mother, Squire Lee, and Annie, for
the time, in the absorbing interest of the exciting scene. The Common
beat Riverdale Common all hollow; he had never seen any thing like it
before. But when the wagon reached Washington Street, the measure of
his surprise was filled up.

"My gracious! how thick the houses are!" exclaimed he, much to the
amusement of the kind-hearted butcher.

"We have high fences here," he replied.

"Where are all these folks going to?"

"You will have to ask them, if you want to know."

But the wonder soon abated, and Bobby began to think of his great
mission in the city. He got tired of gazing and wondering, and even
began to smile with contempt at the silly fops as they sauntered along,
and the gayly-dressed ladies, that flaunted like so many idle
butterflies, on the sidewalk. It was an exciting scene; but it did not
look real to him. It was more like Herr Grunderslung's exhibition of
the magic lantern, than any thing substantial. The men and women were
like so many puppets. They did not seem to be doing any thing, or to
be walking for any purpose.

He got out of the butcher's cart at the Old South. His first
impression, as he joined the busy throng, was, that he was one of t