After Mrs. Maddox and Bessy went upstairs to bed, Bramble said to me, as he knocked the ashes out of his pipe, “Tom, I’ve got this farm for Bessy for two hundred pounds less than I expected to give for it.  Now, I’ve been thinking about this two hundred pounds, which I consider in a manner as her property, and what d’ye think I mean to do with it?  I’ll tell you.  I’ll give her education as well as money.  This sum will keep her at a good school for a matter of four years, and I’ve made up my mind that she shall go.  I don’t like to part with her, that’s certain; but it’s for her good, so all’s right.  Don’t you think so?”

“I do, indeed, father,” replied I.  “I shall miss her as much as you do; but, as you say, it’s all right, and I’m very glad that you have so decided.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

     In which there is a Hop, Skip, and a Jump.

Life has often, and with great truth, been compared to a river.  In infancy a little rill, gradually increasing to the pure and limpid brook, which winds through flowery meads, “giving a gentle kiss to every ridge it overtaketh in its pilgrimage.”  Next it increases in its volume and its power, now rushing rapidly, now moving along in deep and tranquil water, until it swells into a bold stream, coursing its way over the shallows, dashing through the impeding rocks, descending in rapids swift as thought, or pouring its boiling water over the cataract.  And thus does it vary its velocity, its appearance, and its course, until it swells into a broad expanse, gradually checking its career as it approaches, and at last mingles with the ocean of Eternity.  I have been led into this somewhat trite metaphor, to account to the reader for the contents of this chapter.  As in the river, after many miles of checkered and boisterous career, you will find that its waters will for some time flow in a smooth and tranquil course as almost to render you unconscious of the never-ceasing stream; so in the life of man, after an eventful and adventurous career, it will be found that for a time he is permitted to glide gently and quietly along, as if a respite were given to his feelings preparatory to fresh scenes of excitement.  Such was the case with me for some time.  I had now been under Bramble’s tuition for more than a year and a half, and was consequently between fifteen and sixteen years old.  The years from 1800 to the end of 1804 were of this description in my stream of life, unmarked by any peculiar or stirring events worthy of occupying the attention of my readers.  It is therefore my intention, in this chapter, to play the part of the chorus in the old plays, and sum up the events in few words, so as not to break the chain of history, at the same time that I shall prepare my readers for what subsequently took place.