Strange Adventures. Ig

self. Often I contemplated leaving home and
seeking my fortune in some great town, but my
dear mother so dreaded the idea of letting me go
away, alone and friendless, that, for her sake, L
gave up the thought.

‘Dear boy,’ she would say to me, ‘we know
how clever you are with your violin in your hand,
and we feel sure that nowhere can your equal be
found. But what do you know of the ways of the
wicked world, the jealousy you would meet with,
the coldness and hardness of strangers to one so
young and innocent as yourself? All our friends
and relations are, like ourselves, country born and
bred, so there is no one to whose care I could con-
fide you in the great, bustling town. No, no, I
cannot bear to part from you, my son, Wait at
least until I am dead and gone before you talk of
leaving your native village.’

Now, in my boyish pride, I was rather offended
at this style of talk. Did my mother consider me
a baby, not fit to be out of her sight? She could
not expect to keep me at her side for ever, and
besides, I should like to be earning my own living.

But when I hinted at this to her, she would
reply that there was no need for me to think of
such a thing, that she had plenty of money for us
both, and at her death I should find myself a tol-
erably rich man.