But I slid for the barn, secured my bundle and started for the
ancient city far away.
All night, on foot and alone, I trudged the turnpike that ran
through Nashville. I arrived in that city about daylight, tired
and hungry, but was too timid to stop for something to eat,
notwithstanding I had my four dollars safe in my pocket, and had
not eaten since noon, the day before.
I plodded along through the town and crossed the Cumberland river
on a ferry-boat, and then pulled out in a northerly direction for
about an hour, when I came to a farm-house. In the road in front
of the house I met the proprietor who was going from his garden,
opposite the house, to his breakfast.
He waited until I came up, and as I was about to pass on, he said:
"Hello! my boy, where are you going so early this morning?"
I told him I was on my way to St. Louis.
"St. Louis?" he said. "I never heard of that place before. Where
is it?"
I told him I thought it was in Missouri, but was not certain.
"Are you going all the way on foot, and alone?"
I answered that I was, and that I had no other way to go. With
that I started on.
"Hold on," he said. "If you are going to walk that long way you
had better come in and have some breakfast."
You may rest assured that I did not wait for a second invitation,
for about that time I was as hungry as I had ever been in my life.
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