So with farewell greetings Harry walked out into the world. He had all at once assumed a man's responsibilities, and his face grew serious, as he began to realize that he must now look out for himself.
His native village was situated in the northern part of New Hampshire. Not far away could be seen, indistinct in the distance, the towering summits of the White Mountain range, but his back was turned to them. In the south were larger and more thriving villages, and the wealth was greater. Harry felt that his chances would be greater there. Not that he had any particular place in view. Wherever there was an opening, he meant to stop.
"I won't come back till I am better off," he said to himself. "If I don't succeed it won't be for want of trying."
He walked five miles without stopping. This brought him to the middle of the next town. He was yet on familiar ground, for he had been here more than once. He felt tired, and sat down by the roadside to rest before going farther. While he sat there the doctor from his own village rode by, and chanced to espy Harry, whom he recognized.
"What brings you here, Harry?" he asked, stopping his chaise.
"I'm going to seek my fortune," said Harry.
"What, away from home?"
"Yes, sir."
"I hadn't heard of that," said the doctor, surprised.
"You haven't run away from home?" he asked, with momentary suspicion.