“Think of something, Jack,” replied old Nanny; “you must have something.”
“Well, then, mother, you know I like reading; will you give me the old book that I was reading when I sat up with you one night?”
“Yes, Jack, and welcome; what book is it? I don’t know—I can’t see to read large print without spectacles, and I, broke mine many years ago.”
“Why do you not buy another pair?”
“Another pair, Jack? Spectacles cost money. I’ve no money; and as I never read, I don’t want spectacles. Go in and fetch the book; it’s yours and welcome.”
I went in and brought out the Bunyan’s “Pilgrim’s Progress” which I before mentioned. “This is it, mother.”
“Yes, yes, I recollect now, it’s a very pretty book. What’s it about, Jack? I can’t see myself: never mind, take it, Jack, and don’t forget your promise.”
I wished old Nanny good bye, and took the book home, which I gave into Virginia’s care, as I wished her to read it. The next morning, at daybreak, I was summoned; the ship was dropping down the river. I bade farewell to my little sister, who wept on my shoulder; to my mother, who hardly condescended to answer me. My father helped me down with my luggage, which was not very heavy; and Anderson and old Ben accompanied us to the landing-steps; and having bid them all farewell, besides many others of my friends who were there, I stepped into the boat sent for me; and quitted Greenwich for my new avocation on the 6th of October, 1799, being then, as Anderson had calculated, precisely thirteen years and seven months old.