--Go, says he, lifting up the sash, and opening his hand as he
spoke, to let it escape;--go, poor devil, get thee gone, why should I
hurt thee?--This world surely is wide enough to hold both thee and me.

I was but ten years old when this happened: but whether it was, that the
action itself was more in unison to my nerves at that age of pity,
which instantly set my whole frame into one vibration of most
pleasurable sensation;--or how far the manner and expression of it might
go towards it;--or, in what degree, or by what secret magick,--a tone of
voice and harmony of movement, attuned by mercy, might find a passage to
my heart, I know not;--this I know, that the lesson of universal
good-will then taught and imprinted by my uncle _Toby_ has never since
been worn out of my mind: And tho' I would not depreciate what the study
of the _Literae humaniores,_ at the University, have done for me in that
respect, or discredit the other helps of an expensive education bestowed
upon me, both at home and abroad since;--yet I often think that I owe
one half of my philanthropy to that one accidental expression.

HOBSON'S CHOICE
[Sidenote: _William Hazlitt_]

One of the pleasantest things in the world is going a journey; but I
like to go by myself. I can enjoy society in a room; but, out of doors,
nature is company enough for me. I am then never less alone than when
alone.

The fields his study, nature was his book.

I cannot see the wit of walking and talking at the same time. When I am
in the country I wish to vegetate like the country. I am not for
criticising hedge-rows and black cattle. I go out of town in order to
forget the town and all that is in it. There are those who for this
purpose go to watering-places, and carry the metropolis with them. I
like more elbow-room and fewer encumbrances. I like solitude, when I
give myself up to it, for the sake of solitude; nor do I ask for

A friend in my retreat,
Whom I may whisper, Solitude is sweet.

The soul of a journey is liberty, perfect liberty to think, feel, do,
just as one pleases. We go a journey chiefly to be free of all
impediments and of all inconveniences; to leave ourselves behind much
more to get rid of others. It is because I want a little breathing-space
to muse on indifferent matters, where Contemplation--

May plume her feathers and let grow her wings,
That in the various bustle of resort
Were all too ruffled, and sometimes impair'd--

that