each that part of the country whither
I was desirous of going; but how should I effect my passage? I knew of
no ford, and the smallest expense exceeded my capacity. Ten thousand
guineas and a farthing were equally remote from nothing, and nothing was
the portion allotted to me.

While my mind was thus occupied, I turned up one of the streets which
tend northward. It was, for some length, uninhabited and unpaved.
Presently I reached a pavement, and a painted fence, along which a row
of poplars was planted. It bounded a garden into which a knot-hole
permitted me to pry. The enclosure was a charming green, which I saw
appended to a house of the loftiest and most stately order. It seemed
like a recent erection, had all the gloss of novelty, and exhibited, to
my unpractised eyes, the magnificence of palaces. My father's dwelling
did not equal the height of one story, and might be easily comprised in
one-fourth of those buildings which here were designed to accommodate
the menials. My heart dictated the comparison between my own condition
and that of the proprietors of this domain. How wide and how impassable
was the gulf by which we were separated! This fair inheritance had
fallen to one who, perhaps, would only abuse it to the purposes of
luxury, while I, with intentions worthy of the friend of mankind, was
doomed to wield the flail and the mattock.

I had been entirely unaccustomed to this strain of reflection. My books
had taught me the dignity and safety of the middle path, and my darling
writer abounded with encomiums on rural life. At a distance from luxury
and pomp, I viewed them, perhaps, in a just light. A nearer scrutiny
confirmed my early prepossessions; but, at the distance at which I now
stood, the lofty edifices, the splendid furniture, and the copious
accommodations of the rich excited my admiration and my envy.

I relinquished my station, and proceeded, in a heartless mood, along the
fence. I now came to the mansion itself. The principal door was entered
by a staircase of marble. I had never seen the stone of Carrara, and
wildly supposed this to have been dug from Italian quarries. The beauty
of the poplars, the coolness exhaled from the dew-besprent bricks, the
commodiousness of the seat which these steps afforded, and the
uncertainty into which I was plunged respecting my future conduct, all
combined to make me pause. I sat down on the lower step and began to
meditate.

By some transition it occurred to