Tilling the earth was my only profession, and, to profit by my skill in it, it would be necessary to become a day-labourer in the service of strangers; but this was a destiny to which I, who had so long enjoyed the pleasures of independence and command, could not suddenly reconcile myself.

It occurred to me that the city might afford me an asylum.

A short day's journey would transport me into it.

I had been there twice or thrice in my life, but only for a few hours each time.

I knew not a human face, and was a stranger to its modes and dangers.