I delayed sending an answer till I might have it in my power
to communicate what seemed then likely to produce a
considerable change in my stile (_sic_) of life, a
proposal to become a "travelling tutor," as they call it, to
a young person in the North Riding, for whom that exercise
was recommended on account of bodily and mental weakness.
They offered me L150 per annum, and withal invited me to
come and examine things on the spot before engaging. I went
accordingly, and happy was it I went; from description I was
ready to accept the place; from inspection all Earndale
would not have hired me to accept it. This boy was a dotard,
a semi-vegetable, the elder brother, head of the family, a
two-legged animal without feathers, intellect, or virtue,
and all the connections seemed to have the power of eating
pudding but no higher power. So I left the barbarous
people....York is but a heap of bricks. Jonathan Dryasdust
(see _Ivanhoe_) is justly named. York is the Boetia of
Britain.... Upon the whole, however, I derived great
amusement from my journey, ... I conversed with all kinds of
men, from graziers up to knights of the shire, argued with
them all, and broke specimens from their souls (if any),
which I retain within the museum of my cranium. I have no
prospects that are worth the name. I am like a being thrown
from another planet on this dark terrestrial ball, an alien,
a pilgrim ... and life is to me like a pathless, a waste,
and a howling wilderness. Do not leave your situation if
you can possibly avoid it. Experience shows it to be a
fearful thing to be swept in by the roaring surge of life,
and then to float alone undirected on its restless,
monstrous bosom. Keep ashore while yet you may, or if you