ght.

In about two hours I had cleared the Great City, and got beyond the
suburban villages, or rather towns, in the direction in which I was
travelling; I was in a broad and excellent road, leading I knew not
whither. I now slackened my pace, which had hitherto been great.
Presently, coming to a milestone on which was graven nine miles, I rested
against it, and looking round towards the vast city, which had long
ceased to be visible, I fell into a train of meditation.

I thought of all my ways and doings since the day of my first arrival in
that vast city--I had worked and toiled, and, though I had accomplished
nothing at all commensurate with the hopes which I had entertained
previous to my arrival, I had achieved my own living, preserved my
independence, and become indebted to no one. I was now quitting it, poor
in purse, it is true, but not wholly empty; rather ailing, it may be, but
not broken in health; and, with hope within my bosom, had I not cause
upon the whole to be thankful? Perhaps there were some who, arriving at
the same time under not more favourable circumstances, had accomplished
much more, and whose future was far more hopeful--Good! But there might
be others who, in spite of all their efforts, had been either trodden
down in the press, never more to be heard of, or were quitting that
mighty town broken in purse, broken in health, and, oh! with not one dear
hope to cheer them. Had I not, upon the whole, abundant cause to be
grateful? Truly, yes!

My meditation over, I left the milestone and proceeded on my way in the
same direction as before until the night began to close in. I had always
been a good pedestrian; but now, whether owing to indisposition or to not
having for some time past been much in the habit of taking such lengthy
walks, I began to feel not a little weary. Just as I was thinking of
putting up for the night at the next inn or public-house I should arrive
at, I heard what sounded like a coach coming up rapidly behind me.
Induced, perhaps, by the weariness which I felt, I stopped and looked
wistfully in the direction of the sound; presently up came a coach,
seemingly a mail, drawn by four bounding horses--there was no one upon it
but the coachman and the guard; when nearly parallel with me it stopped.
"Want to get up?" sounded a voice, in the true coachman-like tone--half
querulous, half authoritative. I hesitated; I was tired, it is true, but
I had left London bound on a ped