about nine
o'clock
It was in the cool of the evening of a bright day -- all the days of that summer were bright -- that I departed . I felt at first rather melancholy at finding myself again launched into the wide world , and leaving the friends whom I had lately made behind me ; but by occasionally trotting the horse , and occasionally singing a song of Romanvile , I had dispelled the feeling of melancholy by the time I had proceeded three miles down the main road . It was at the end of these three miles , just opposite a milestone , that I struck into a cross road . After riding about seven miles , threading what are called , in postillion parlance , cross-country roads , I reached another high road , tending to the east , along which I proceeded for a mile or two , when coming to a small inn , about nine o'clock , I halted and put up for the night . Early on the following morning I proceeded on my journey , but fearing to gall the horse , I no longer rode him , but led him by the bridle , until I came to a town at the distance of about ten miles from the place where I had passed the night . Here I stayed during the heat of the day , more on the horse 's account than my own , and towards evening resumed my journey , leading the animal by the bridle as before ; and in this manner I proceeded for several days , travelling on an average from twenty to twenty-five miles a day , always leading the animal , except perhaps now and then of an evening , when , if I saw a good piece of road before me , I would mount and put the horse into a trot , which the creature seemed to enjoy as much as myself , showing his satisfaction by snorting and neighing , whilst I gave utterance to my own exhilaration by shouts , or by `` the chi she is kaulo she soves pre lakie dumo , '' or by something else of the same kind in Romanvile . On the whole , I journeyed along very pleasantly , certainly quite as pleasantly as I do at present , now that I am become a gentleman , and weigh sixteen stone , though some people would say that my present manner of travelling is much the most preferable , riding as I now do , instead of leading my horse ; receiving the homage of ostlers instead of their familiar nods ; sitting down to dinner in the parlour of the best inn I can find , instead of passing the brightest part of the day in the kitchen of a village alehouse ; carrying on my argument after dinner on the subject of the corn-laws with the best commercial gentlemen on the road , instead of being glad , whilst sipping a pint of beer , to get into conversation with blind trampers , or maimed Abraham sailors , regaling themselves on half-pints at the said village hostelries .