“The morning clouds began to clear away; I could
see my master at some distance, and I kept looking
after him, as the waggon went on slowly, and as he
walked fast away over the fields; but, when I had lost
sight of him, my thoughts were forcibly turned to
other things. I seemed to awake to quite a new
scene, and new feelings. Buried underground in
a mine, as I had been from my infancy, the face of
nature was totally unknown to me.
“‘We shall have a brave fine day of it,
I hope and trust,’ said the waggoner, pointing
with his long whip to the rising sun.
“He went on whistling, whilst I, to whom the
rising sun was a spectacle wholly surprising, started
up in astonishment! I know not what exclamations
I uttered, as I gazed upon it; but I remember the waggoner
burst out into a loud laugh. ‘Lud a marcy,’
said he, holding his sides, ’to hear un,
and look at un, a body would think the oaf had
never seen the sun rise afore in all his born days!’
“Upon this hint, which was nearer the truth
than he imagined, recollecting that we were still
in Cornwall, and not out of the reach of my enemies,
I drew myself back into the waggon, lest any of the
miners, passing the road to their morning’s
work, might chance to spy me out.
“It was well for me that I took this precaution;
for we had not gone much farther when we met a party
of the miners; and, as I sat wedged up in a corner
behind a heap of parcels, I heard the voice of Clarke,
who asked the waggoner as he passed us, ‘What
o’clock it might be?’ I kept myself quite
snug till he was out of sight; nay, long afterwards,
I was content to sit within the waggon, rather than
venture out; and I amused myself with listening to
the bells of the team, which jingled continually.
“On our second day’s journey, however,
I ventured out of my hiding-place; I walked with the
waggoner up and down the hills, enjoying the fresh
air, the singing of the birds, and the delightful smell
of the honey-suckles and the dog-roses in the hedges.
All these wild flowers, and even the weeds on the
banks by the way-side, were to me matters of wonder
and admiration. At every step, almost, I paused
to observe something that was new to me; and I could
not help feeling surprised at the insensibility of
my fellow-traveller, who plodded on, seldom interrupting
his whistling, except to cry, ‘Gee, Blackbird,
aw, woa;’ or, ‘How now, Smiler;’
and certain other words or sounds of menace and encouragement,
addressed to his horses in a language which seemed
intelligible to them and to him, though utterly incomprehensible
to me.
“Once, as I was in admiration of a plant, whose
stem was about two feet high, and which had a round,
shining, pale purple, beautiful flower, the waggoner,
with a look of extreme scorn, exclaimed, ’Help
thee, lad, does not thee know ’tis a common
thistle? Didst thee not know that a thistle would
prick thee?’ continued he, laughing at the face
I made when I touched the prickly leaves; ’why
my horse Dobbin has more sense by half! he is not
like an ass hunting for thistles.’
