however, he got out of the house as fast as he was able, without considering whither he was going, or what he should do; for his mind was so taken up, and tortured with his brother's brutality, that all other thoughts quite forsook him. He wandered up and down till he was quite weary and faint, not knowing whither to direct his steps. When he first set out, he had but half-a-crown in his pocket, a shilling of which he gave away in his walk to a beggar, who told him a story of having been turned out of doors by an unnatural brother: so that now he had but one shilling and sixpence left, with which he went into a public house, and got something to recruit his worn-out spirits. In his situation, anything that would barely support nature, was equal to the greatest dainties; for his mind was in so much anxiety it was impossible for him to spend one thought on any thing but the cause of his grief. So true is that observation of Shakespeare's, "When the mind is free, the body is delicate"; that those people know very little of real misery (however the sorrow for their own sufferings may make them imagine no one ever endured the like) who can be very solicitous of what becomes of them. But this was far from being our hero's case, for when he found himself too weak to travel farther, he was obliged to go into a public house; for being far from home, and an utter stranger, no private house would have admitted him. As soon as he got into a room, he threw himself into a chair, and could scarce speak. The landlord asked him, what he would please to drink; but he not knowing what he said, made answer, he did not choose any thing. Upon which he was answered in a surly manner, if he did not care for drinking, he could have no great business there, and would be very welcome to walk out again. This treatment just roused him enough to make
