Myself.  Don’t swear, it’s a bad habit, neither pleasant nor profitable.  Your name is Slingsby—­Jack Slingsby.  There, don’t stare, there’s nothing in my telling you your name:  I’ve been in these parts before, at least not very far from here.  Ten years ago, when I was little more than a child, I was about twenty miles from here in a post-chaise, at the door of an inn, and as I looked from the window of the chaise, I saw you standing by a gutter, with a big tin ladle in your hand, and somebody called you Jack Slingsby.  I never forget anything I hear or see; I can’t, I wish I could.  So there’s nothing strange in my knowing your name; indeed, there’s nothing strange in anything, provided you examine it to the bottom.  Now what am I to give you for the things?

I paid Slingsby five pounds ten shillings for his stock in trade, cart, and pony—­purchased sundry provisions of the landlady, also a wagoner’s frock, which had belonged to a certain son of hers, deceased, gave my little animal a feed of corn, and prepared to depart.

‘God bless you, young man,’ said Slingsby, shaking me by the hand; ’you are the best friend I’ve had for many a day:  I have but one thing to tell you, Don’t cross that fellow’s path if you can help it; and stay—­should the pony refuse to go, just touch him so, and he’ll fly like the wind.’

CHAPTER LXIX

Effects of corn—­One night longer—­The hoofs—­A stumble—­Are you hurt?—­What a difference—­Drowsy—­Maze of bushes—­Housekeeping—­Sticks and furze—­The driftway—­Account of stock—­Anvil and bellows—­Twenty years.

It was two or three hours past noon when I took my departure from the place of the last adventure, walking by the side of my little cart; the pony, invigorated by the corn, to which he was probably not much accustomed, proceeded right gallantly; so far from having to hasten him forward by the particular application which the tinker had pointed out to me, I had rather to repress his eagerness, being, though an excellent pedestrian, not unfrequently left behind.  The country through which I passed was beautiful and interesting, but solitary; few habitations appeared.  As it was quite a matter of indifference to me in what direction I went, the whole world being before me, I allowed the pony to decide upon the matter; it was not long before he left the high-road, being probably no friend to public places.  I followed him I knew not whither, but, from subsequent observation, have reason to suppose that our course was in a north-west direction.  At length night came upon us, and a cold wind sprang up, which was succeeded by a drizzling rain.