The landlord's face was
familiar enough, but he did not know me, nor, under my changed
circumstances, did I desire that he should. Supper, lodging, and
breakfast nearly exhausted my small money capital; I was worn and
weary, too, and the next day was able to walk but twenty miles, all
told. On the way, at noon I went into a farm house to warm myself.
The woman had just baked a short-cake which stood on the hearth,
toward which I must have cast longing eyes, for the farmer said:
"Have you had your dinner, man?"
"No, and I have no money to buy any."
"Well, you don't need money here. Wife, put that short-cake and some
butter on the table; now, my man, fall to and eat as much as you
like."
I was very hungry, and I declare I ate the whole of that short-cake.
I told these people that I had been in better circumstances, and
that I was not always the poor, ragged, hungry wretch I appeared
then. They made we welcome to what I had eaten and when I went away
filled my pockets with food. At night I was about thirty miles above
Concord. I had no money, but trusting to luck, I got on the cars
-the conductor came, and when he found I had no ticket, he said he
must put me off. It was a bitter night and I told him I should be
sure to freeze to death. A gentleman who heard the conversation at
once paid my fare, for which I expressed my grateful thanks, and I
went to Concord.
On my arrival I went to a hotel and told the landlord I wanted to
stay there till the next day, when a conductor whom I knew would be
going to Meredith Bridge; that I was going with him, and that he
would probably pay my bill at the hotel.
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