In an unlucky hour, however, he took to reading voyages and travels,
and was smitten with a desire to see the world. This desire increased
upon him as he grew up; so, early one bright, sunny morning, he put
all his effects in a knapsack, slung it on his back, took staff in
hand, and called in his way to take leave of his early schoolmate.
Jack was just going out with the plough: the friends shook hands over
the farm-house gate; Jack drove his team a-field, and Slingsby
whistled, "Over the hills and far away," and sallied forth gayly to
"seek his fortune."
Years and years passed by, and young Tom Slingsby was forgotten; when,
one mellow Sunday afternoon in autumn, a thin man, somewhat advanced
in life, with a coat out at elbows, a pair of old nankeen gaiters, and
a few things tied in a handkerchief and slung on the end of a stick,
was seen loitering through the village. He appeared to regard several
houses attentively, to peer into the windows that were open, to eye
the villagers wistfully as they returned from church, and then to pass
some time in the church-yard reading the tombstones.
At length he found his way to the farm-house of Ready-Money Jack, but
paused ere he attempted the wicket; contemplating the picture of
substantial independence before him.
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