“Why should I give them a dollar for carrying me to Boston, when I can just as well walk?  If I get tired, I can sit down and rest me.  If I save the dollar, I shall have to earn only fifty-nine more to pay my note.  So here goes;” and he started down the track.

CHAPTER VII.

In which Bobby stands up for “Certain inalienable rights.”

Whether it was wise policy, or “penny wise and pound foolish” policy for Bobby to undertake such a long walk, is certainly a debatable question; but as my young readers would probably object to an argument, we will follow him to the city, and let every one settle the point to suit himself.

His cheerful heart made the road smooth beneath his feet.  He had always been accustomed to an active, busy life, and had probably often walked more than twenty miles in a day.  About ten o’clock, though he did not feel much fatigued, he seated himself on a rock by a brook from which he had just taken a drink, to rest himself.  He had walked slowly so as to husband his strength; and he felt confident that he should be able to accomplish the journey without injury to himself.

After resting for half an hour, he resumed his walk.  At twelve o’clock he reached a point from which he obtained his first view of the city.  His heart bounded at the sight, and his first impulse was to increase his speed so that he should the sooner gratify his curiosity; but a second thought reminded him that he had eaten nothing since breakfast; so, finding a shady tree by the road side, he seated himself on a stone to eat the luncheon which his considerate mother had placed in his bundle.

Thus refreshed, he felt like a new man, and continued his journey again till he was on the very outskirts of the city, where a sign, “No passing over this bridge,” interrupted his farther progress.  Unlike many others, Bobby took this sign literally, and did not venture to cross the bridge.  Having some doubts as to the direct road to the city, he hailed a man in a butcher’s cart, who not only pointed the way, but gave him an invitation to ride with him, which Bobby was glad to accept.

They crossed the Milldam, and the little pilgrim forgot the long walk he had taken—­forgot Riverdale, his mother, Squire Lee, and Annie, for the time, in the absorbing interest of the exciting scene.  The Common beat Riverdale Common all hollow; he had never seen any thing like it before.  But when the wagon reached Washington Street, the measure of his surprise was filled up.

“My gracious! how thick the houses are!” exclaimed he, much to the amusement of the kind-hearted butcher.

“We have high fences here,” he replied.

“Where are all these folks going to?”

“You will have to ask them, if you want to know.”