that he obtained, was but a dreamy repetition of his waking thoughts, and when the first gray streak of dawn told of the coming day, the boy arose and quietly dressing himself for his journey, emerged from the house, passed down the avenue under the broad elms and struck the highway. He shivered a little as the chill air of morning touched his cheek, and his ambitious dream did not look quite so glowing and glorious as it had done when snugly ensconced in his comfortable bed, but still he had a consciousness that he was doing something very manly, and he walked on with a firm step and determined heart. It is true he had no very definite idea of _where_ he was going,--he only thought of doing great things and seeing strange sights. His whole plan of travel was comprehended in the one idea of _going out into the world_. That was all. Accordingly the youth trudged on for miles without weariness,--for his head was still thronged with thick coming fancies of the possible future that lay before him, and for some time the exulting sense of freedom that ever accompanies disenthralment of any kind, thrilled his whole being with a firm resolution to accomplish great things. At the expiration of a few hours, however, the fatigue involved in so unusual a tramp before breakfast, began to tell upon him, and as he mechanically slackened his pace, his reflections assumed a less jubilant and less satisfactory character. He had walked nearly fourteen miles and was already footsore. "Going out into the world," began to seem not quite so enchanting a proceeding as it had appeared to be at starting. For the first time since the idea of "seeking his fortune" had entered his mind, he asked himself _where_ he was to seek it. The reply to this inquiry was not easy. Meanwhile the sun had mounted high up in the heavens and was shining brightly, the birds were singing their matin songs, and in the roadside pastures the cattle were quietly grazing. It was a peaceful, pastoral scene, but its peace did not enter the heart of the wanderer. Somehow the world did not appear half so attractive in his eyes as it had looked when he stole forth from his father's gate in the cold gray of the morning twilight. His step, therefore, was less elastic and his bearing less assured now than then, and at length he sat down under a large beech-tree by the roadside, to reflect upon the situation. He began to feel very weary, and the sudden transition from action to repose induced a drowsiness that in a few minutes overcame his waking sense and launched him into the sea of forgetfulness. The young head sank lower and lower on his breast, and finally, sleep ... "that knits up the ravelled sleeve of care,"... "sore labor's bath, balm of hurt minds, great Nature's second course," came to him unawares, and for some hours he was totally oblivious of all surroundings.