Drivers and Front Outside Passengers—­Fatigue of Body and Mind—­ Unexpected Greeting—­My Inn—­The Governor—­Engagement.

I continued my journey, passing through one or two villages.  The day was exceedingly hot, and the roads dusty.  In order to cause my horse as little fatigue as possible, and not to chafe his back, I led him by the bridle, my doing which brought upon me a shower of remarks, jests, and would-be witticisms from the drivers and front outside passengers of sundry stage-coaches which passed me in one direction or the other.  In this way I proceeded till considerably past noon, when I felt myself very fatigued, and my horse appeared no less so; and it is probable that the lazy and listless manner in which we were moving on, tired us both much more effectually than hurrying along at a swift trot would have done, for I have observed that when the energies of the body are not exerted a languor frequently comes over it.  At length arriving at a very large building with an archway, near the entrance of a town, I sat down on what appeared to be a stepping-block, and presently experienced a great depression of spirits.  I began to ask myself whither I was going, and what I should do with myself and the horse which I held by the bridle?  It appeared to me that I was alone in the world with the poor animal, who looked for support to me, who knew not how to support myself.  Then the image of Isopel Berners came into my mind, and when I thought how I had lost her for ever, and how happy I might have been with her in the New World had she not deserted me, I became yet more miserable.

As I sat in this state of mind, I suddenly felt some one clap me on the shoulder, and heard a voice say, “Ha! comrade of the dingle, what chance has brought you into these parts?” I turned round, and beheld a man in the dress of a postillion, whom I instantly recognized as he to whom I had rendered assistance on the night of the storm.

“Ah!” said I, “is it you?  I am glad to see you, for I was feeling very lonely and melancholy.”

“Lonely and melancholy,” he replied, “how is that? how can any one be lonely and melancholy with such a noble horse as that you hold by the bridle?”

“The horse,” said I, “is one cause of my melancholy, for I know not in the world what to do with it.”

“It is your own?”

“Yes,” said I, “I may call it my own, though I borrowed the money to purchase it.”

“Well, why don’t you sell it?”

“It is not always easy to find a purchaser for a horse like this,” said I; “can you recommend me one?”

“I?  Why no, not exactly; but you’ll find a purchaser shortly—­ pooh! if you have no other cause for disquiet than that horse, cheer up, man, don’t be cast down.  Have you nothing else on your mind?  By the bye, what’s become of the young woman you were keeping company with in that queer lodging place of yours?”

“She has left me,” said I.