No sooner had he departed than the master of the house told me that his friend the traveller had just said that I was a confounded sensible young fellow, and not at all opinionated, a sentiment in which he himself perfectly agreed—­then hemming once or twice, he said that as I was going on a journey he hoped I was tolerably well provided with money, adding that travelling was rather expensive, especially on horseback, the manner in which he supposed, as I had a horse in the stable, I intended to travel.  I told him that though I was not particularly well supplied with money, I had sufficient for the expenses of my journey, at the end of which I hoped to procure more.  He then hemmed again, and said that since I had been at the inn I had rendered him a great deal of service in more ways than one, and that he should not think of permitting me to depart without making me some remuneration; then putting his hand into his waistcoat pocket, he handed me a cheque for ten pounds, which he had prepared beforehand, the value of which he said I could receive at the next town, or that, if I wished it, any waiter in the house would cash it for me.  I thanked him for his generosity in the best terms I could select, but, handing him back the cheque, I told him that I could not accept it, saying, that, so far from his being my debtor, I believed myself to be indebted to him, as not only myself but my horse had been living at his house for several weeks.  He replied, that as for my board at a house like his it amounted to nothing, and as for the little corn and hay which the horse had consumed it was of no consequence, and that he must insist upon my taking the cheque.  But I again declined, telling him that doing so would be a violation of a rule which I had determined to follow, and which nothing but the greatest necessity would ever compel me to break through—­never to incur obligations.  “But,” said he, “receiving this money will not be incurring an obligation, it is your due.”  “I do not think so,” said I; “I did not engage to serve you for money, nor will I take any from you.”  “Perhaps you will take it as a loan?” said he.  “No,” I replied, “I never borrow.”  “Well,” said the landlord, smiling, “you are different from all others that I am acquainted with.  I never yet knew any one else who scrupled to borrow and receive obligations; why, there are two baronets in the neighbourhood who have borrowed money of me, ay, and who have never repaid what they borrowed; and there are a dozen squires who are under considerable obligations to me, who I dare say will never return them.  Come, you need not be more scrupulous than your superiors—­I mean in station.”  “Every vessel must stand on its own bottom,” said I; “they take pleasure in receiving obligations, I take pleasure in being independent.  Perhaps they are wise, and I am a fool, I know not, but one thing I am certain of, which is, that were I not independent I should be very unhappy:  I should have no visions