t other statement but the true one would account for my being found
there? This deportment had been worthy of an honest purpose. My betrayer
probably expected that this would be the issue of his jest. My rustic
simplicity, he might think, would suggest no more ambiguous or elaborate
expedient. He might likewise have predetermined to interfere if my
safety had been really endangered.

On the morrow the two doors of the chamber and the window below would be
found unclosed. They will suspect a design to pillage, but their
searches will terminate in nothing but in the discovery of a pair of
clumsy and dusty shoes in the closet. Now that I was safe I could not
help smiling at the picture which my fancy drew of their anxiety and
wonder. These thoughts, however, gave place to more momentous
considerations.

I could not imagine to myself a more perfect example of indigence than I
now exhibited. There was no being in the city on whose kindness I had
any claim. Money I had none, and what I then wore comprised my whole
stock of movables. I had just lost my shoes, and this loss rendered my
stockings of no use. My dignity remonstrated against a barefoot
pilgrimage, but to this, necessity now reconciled me. I threw my
stockings between the bars of a stable-window, belonging, as I thought,
to the mansion I had just left. These, together with my shoes, I left to
pay the cost of my entertainment.

I saw that the city was no place for me. The end that I had had in view,
of procuring some mechanical employment, could only be obtained by the
use of means, but what means to pursue I knew not. This night's perils
and deceptions gave me a distaste to a city life, and my ancient
occupations rose to my view enhanced by a thousand imaginary charms, I
resolved forthwith to strike into the country.

The day began now to dawn. It was Sunday, and I was desirous of eluding
observation. I was somewhat recruited by rest, though the languors of
sleeplessness oppressed me. I meant to throw myself on the first lap of
verdure I should meet, and indulge in sleep that I so much wanted. I
knew not the direction of the streets; but followed that which I first
entered from the court, trusting that, by adhering steadily to one
course, I should some time reach the fields. This street, as I
afterwards found, tended to Schuylkill, and soon extricated me from
houses. I could not cross this river without payment of toll. It was
requisite to cross it in order to r