And as I sat there, gazing now at the blue heavens, now at the downs before me, a man came along the road in the direction in which I had hitherto been proceeding: just opposite to me he stopped, and, looking at me, cried—“Am I right for London, master?”
He was dressed like a sailor, and appeared to be between twenty-five and thirty years of age—he had an open manly countenance, and there was a bold and fearless expression in his eye.
“Yes,” said I, in reply to his question; “this is one of the ways to London. Do you come from far?”
“From ---,” said the man, naming a well-known sea-port.
“Is this the direct road to London from that place?” I demanded.
“No,” said the man; “but I had to visit two or three other places on certain commissions I was entrusted with; amongst others to ---, where I had to take a small sum of money. I am rather tired, master; and, if you please, I will sit down beside you.”
“You have as much right to sit down here as I have,” said I, “the road is free for every one; as for sitting down beside me, you have the look of an honest man, and I have no objection to your company.”
“Why, as for being honest, master,” said the man, laughing and sitting down beside me, “I hav’n’t much to say—many is the wild thing I have done when I was younger; however, what is done, is done. To learn, one must live, master; and I have lived long enough to learn the grand point of wisdom.”
“What is that?” said I.
“That honesty is the best policy, master.”