custom to charge dinner and club; but, as you drank nothing,
we'll let the club go. A mere dinner is half a dollar, sir."

He had no leisure to attend to my fluctuations. After debating with
myself on what was to be done, I concluded that compliance was best,
and, leaving the money at the bar, resumed my way.

I had not performed more than half my journey, yet my purse was entirely
exhausted. This was a specimen of the cost incurred by living at an inn.
If I entered the city, a tavern must, at least for some time, be my
abode; but I had not a farthing remaining to defray my charges. My
father had formerly entertained a boarder for a dollar per week, and, in
case of need, I was willing to subsist upon coarser fare and lie on a
harder bed than those with which our guest had been supplied. These
facts had been the foundation of my negligence on this occasion.

What was now to be done? To return to my paternal mansion was
impossible. To relinquish my design of entering the city and to seek a
temporary asylum, if not permanent employment, at some one of the
plantations within view, was the most obvious expedient. These
deliberations did not slacken my pace. I was almost unmindful of my way,
when I found I had passed Schuylkill at the upper bridge. I was now
within the precincts of the city, and night was hastening. It behooved
me to come to a speedy decision.

Suddenly I recollected that I had not paid the customary toll at the
bridge; neither had I money wherewith to pay it. A demand of payment
would have suddenly arrested my progress; and so slight an incident
would have precluded that wonderful destiny to which I was reserved. The
obstacle that would have hindered my advance now prevented my return.
Scrupulous honesty did not require me to turn back and awaken the
vigilance of the toll-gatherer. I had nothing to pay, and by returning I
should only double my debt. "Let it stand," said I, "where it does. All
that honour enjoins is to pay when I am able."

I adhered to the crossways, till I reached Market Street. Night had
fallen, and a triple row of lamps presented a spectacle enchanting and
new. My personal cares were, for a time, lost in the tumultuous
sensations with which I was now engrossed. I had never visited the city
at this hour. When my last visit was paid, I was a mere child. The
novelty which environed every object was, therefore, nearly absolute. I
proceeded with more cautious steps, but was still absorbed