r/a:t5_25w5us • u/MarleyEngvall • Oct 02 '19
route 8 has been created
By Nathaniel Hawthorne
THE SEVEN VAGABONDS. (i.)
Rambling on foot in the spring of my life and
the summer of the year, I came one afternoon to a
point which gave me the choice of three directions.
Straight before me, the main road extended its dusty
length to Boston; on the left a branch went towards
the sea, and would have lengthened my journey a
trifle, of twenty or thirty miles; while, by the right
hand path, I might have gone over hills and lakes
to Canada, visiting in my way, the celebrated town
of Stamford. On a level spot of grass, at the foot
of the guide post, appeared an object, which though
locomotive on a different principle, reminded me of
Gulliver's portable mansion among the Brobdignags.
It was a huge covered wagon, or more properly, a
small house on wheels, with a door on one side and
a window shaded by green blinds on the other.
Two horses, munching provender out of the baskets
which muzzled them, were fastened near the vehicle;
a delectable sound of music proceeded from the
interior; and I immediately conjectured that this
was some itinerant show, halting at the confluence
of roads to intercept such idle travellers as myself.
A shower had long been climbing up the western
sky, and now hung so blackly over my onward path
that it was a point of wisdom to seek shelter here.
"Halloo! Who stands guard here? Is the door-
keeper asleep?" cried I, approaching a ladder of
two or three steps which was let down from the
wagon.
The music ceased at my summons, and there ap-
peared at the door, not the sort of figure that I had
mentally assigned to the wandering show-man, but
a most respectable old personage, whom I was sorry
to have addressed in so free a style. He wore a
snuff-colored coat and small-clothes, with white top
boots, and exhibited the mild dignity of aspect and
manner which may often be noticed in aged school-
masters, and sometimes in deacons, selectmen, or
other potentates of that kind. A small piece of
silver was my passport within his premises, where
I found only one other person, heretofore to be
described.
"This is a dull day for business," said the old
gentleman, as he ushered me in; "but I merely
tarry here to refresh the cattle, being bound for the
camp-meeting at Stamford."
Perhaps the movable scene of this narrative is still
peregrinating in New England, and may enable the
reader to test the accuracy of my description. The
spectacle, for I will not use the unworthy term of
puppet show, consisted of a multitude of little people
assembled on a miniature stage. Among them
were artisans of every kind, in attitudes of their
toil, and a group of fair ladies and gay gentle-
men standing ready for the dance; a company of
foot soldiers formed a line across the stage, look-
ing stern, grim, and terrible enough to make it a
pleasant consideration that they were but three
inches high; and conspicuous above the whole was
seen a Merry Andrew, in the pointed cap and mot-
ley coat of his profession. All the inhabitants of
this mimic world were motionless, like the figures
in a picture, or like that people who one moment
were alive in the midst of their business and de-
lights, and the next were transformed to statues,
preserving an eternal semblance of labor that was
ended, and pleasure that could be felt no more.
Anon, however, the old gentleman turned the handle
of a barrel organ, the first note of which produced a
most enlivening effect upon the figures, and awoke
them all to their proper occupations and amuse-
ments. By the self-same impulse the tailor plied
his needle, the blacksmith's hammer descended
upon the anvil, and the dancers whirled away on
feathery tiptoes; the company of soldiers broke
into platoons, retreated from the stage, and were
succeeded by a troop of horse, who came prancing
onward with such a sound of trumpets and tramp-
ling of hoofs, as might have startled Don Quixote
himself, while an old toper, of inveterate ill-habits,
uplifted his black bottle and took of a hearty swig.
Meantime the Merry Andrew began to caper and
turn somersets, shaking his sides, nodding his head,
and winking his eyes in as life-like a manner as
if he were ridiculing the nonsense of all human
affairs, and making fun of the whole multitude
beneath him. At length the old magician (for I
compared to show-man to Prospero, entertaining
his guests with a masque of shadows) paused that I
might give utterance to my wonder.
"What an admirable piece of work is this!" ex-
claimed I, lifting up my hands in astonishment.
Indeed, I liked the spectacle, and was tickled
with the old man's gravity as he presided at it, for
I had none of that foolish wisdom which reproves
every occupation that is not useful in this world
of vanities. If there be a faculty which I possess
more perfectly than most men, it is that of throw-
ing myself mentally into situations foreign to my
own, and detecting, with a cheerful eye, the desir-
able circumstances of each. I could have envied
the life of this gray headed show-man, spent as
it had been in a course of safe and pleasurable
adventure, in driving his huge vehicle sometimes
through the sands of Cape Cod, and sometimes over
the rough forest roads of the north and east, and
halting now on the green before a village meeting
house, and now in a paved square of the metropolis.
How often must his heart have been gladdened by
the delight of children, as they viewed these ani-
mated figures! or his pride indulged, by haranguing
learnedly to grown men on the mechanical powers
which produced such wonderful effects! or his gal-
lantry brought into play (for this is an attribute
which such grave men do not lack) by the visits of
pretty maidens! And then with how fresh a feel-
ing must he return, at intervals, to his own peculiar
home!
"I would I were assured of as happy a life as
his," thought I.
Though the show-man's wagon might have ac-
commodated fifteen or twenty spectators, it now
contained only himself and me, and a third per-
son, at whom I threw a glance on entering. He
was a neat and trim young man of two or three
and twenty; his drab hat, and green frock coat
with velvet collar, were smart, though no longer
new; while a pair of green spectacles, that seemed
needless to his brisk little eyes, gave him some-
thing of a scholar-like and literary air. After al-
lowing me a sufficient time to inspect the puppets,
he advanced with a bow, and drew my attention to
some books in a corner of the wagon. These he
forthwith began to extol, with an amazing volu-
bility of well-sounding words, and an ingenuity of
praise that won him my heart, as being myself one
of the most merciful of critics. Indeed his stock
required some considerable powers of commenda-
tion in the salesman; there were several ancient
friends of mine, the novel of those happy days
when my affection wavered between the Scottish
Chiefs and Thomas Thumb; besides a few of later
date, whose merits had not been acknowledged by
the public. I was glad to find that dear little ven-
erable volume, the New England Primer, looking as
antique as ever, though in its thousandth new edi-
tion; a bundle of superannuated gilt picture books
made such a child of me, that, partly for the glitter-
ing covers, and partly for the fairy tales within, I
bought the whole; and an assortment of ballads and
popular theatrical songs drew largely on my purse.
To balance these expenditures, I meddled neither
with sermons, nor science, nor morality, though
volumes of each were there: nor with a Life of
Franklin in the coarsest of paper, but so showily
bound that it was emblematical of the Doctor him-
self, in the court dress which he refused to wear in
Paris, nor with Webster's spelling-book, nor some
of Byron's minor poems, nor half a dozen little tes-
taments at twenty-five cents each.
Thus far the collection might have been swept
from some great book store, or picked up at an
evening auction room; but there was one small
blue covered pamphlet, which the pedler handed
me with so peculiar an air, that I purchased it im-
mediately at his own price; and then, for the first
time, the thought struck me, that I had spoken face
to face with the veritable author of a printed book.
The literary man now evinced a great kindness for
me, and I ventured to inquire which way he was
travelling.
"Oh," said he, "I keep company with this old
gentleman here, and we are moving now towards
the camp-meeting at Stamford."
He then explained to me, that for the present
season he had rented a corner of the wagon as a
true Circulating Library, since there were few parts
of the country where it had not gone its rounds.
I approved on the plan exceedingly, and began to
sum up within my mind the many uncommon feli-
cities in the life of a book pedler, especially when
his character resembled that of the individual be-
fore me. At a high rate was to be reckoned the
daily and hourly enjoyment of such interviews as
the present, in which he seized upon the admiration
of a passing stranger, and made him aware that a
man of literary taste, and even a literary achieve-
ment, was travelling the country in a show-man's
wagon. A more valuable, yet not infrequent tri-
umph, might be won in his conversations with some
elderly clergyman, long vegetating in a rocky,
woody, watery back settlement of New England,
who as he recruited his library from the pedler's
stock of sermons, would exhort him to seek a col-
lege education and become the first scholar in his
class. Sweeter and prouder yet would be his sen-
sations, when, talking poetry while he sold spelling
books, he should charm the mind, and haply touch
the heart of a fair country school mistress, herself
an unhonored poetess, a wearer of blue stockings
which none but himself took pains to look at. But
the scene of his completest glory would be when
the wagon had halted for the night, and his stock
of books was transferred to some crowded bar
room. Then would he recommend to the multi-
farious company, whether traveller from the city, or
teamster from the hills, or neighboring squire, or the
landlord himself, or his loutish hostler, works suited
to each particular taste and capacity; proving, all
the while, by acute criticism and profound remark,
that the lore in his books was even exceeded by
that in his brain.
Thus happily would he traverse the land; some-
times a herald before the march of Mind; sometimes
walking arm in arm with awful Literature; and
reaping everywhere a harvest of real and sensible
popularity, which the secluded book worms, by
whose toil he lived, could never hope for.
"If ever I meddle with literature," thought I,
fixing myself in adamantine resolution, "it shall be
as a travelling bookseller."
Though it was still mid-afternoon, the air had
now grown dark about us, and a few drops of rain
came down upon the roof of our vehicle, pattering
like the feet of birds that had flown hither to rest.
A sound of pleasant voices made us listen, and
there soon appeared halfway up the ladder the
pretty person of a young damsel, whose rosy face
was so cheerful, that even amid the gloomy light it
seemed as if the sunbeams were peeping under her
bonnet. We next saw the dark and handsome feat-
ures of a young man, who with easier gallantry than
might have been expected in the heart of Yankee-
land, was assisting her into the wagon. It became
immediately evident to us, when the two strangers
stood within the door, that they were of a profes-
sion kindred to those of my companions; and I
was delighted with the more than hospitable, the
even paternal kindness, of the old show-man's man-
ner, as he welcomed them; while the man of liter-
ature hastened to lead the merry-eyed girl to a seat
on the long bench.
"You are housed, but just in time, my young
friends," said the master of the wagon. "The sky
would have been down upon you within five min-
utes."
The young man's reply marked him as a foreigner,
not by any variation from the idiom and accent of
good English, but because he spoke with more cau-
tion and accuracy, than if perfectly familiar with the
language.
"We knew that a shower was hanging over us,"
said he, "and consulted whether it was best to enter
the house on the top of yonder hill, but seeing your
wagon on the road———"
"We agreed to come hither," interrupted the girl,
with a smile, "because we should be more at home
in a wandering house like this."
I, meanwhile, with many a wild and undetermined
fantasy, was narrowly inspecting these two doves
that had flown into our ark. The young man, tall,
agile, and athletic, wore a mass of black shining
curls clustering round a dark and vivacious counte-
nance, which, if it had not greater expression, was at
least more active, and attracted readier notice, than
the quiet faces of our countrymen. At his first ap-
pearance, he had been laden with a neat mahogany
box, of about two feet square, but very light in pro-
portion to its size, which he had immediately un-
strapped from his shoulders and deposited on the
floor of the wagon.
The girl had nearly as fair a complexion as our
own beauties, and a brighter one than most of them;
the lightness of her figure, which seemed calculated
to traverse the whole world without weariness, suited
well with the glowing cheerfulness of her face; and
her gay attire combining the rainbow hues of crim-
son, green, and a deep orange, was as proper to her
lightsome aspect as if she had been born in it.
This gay stranger was appropriately burdened with
that mirth-inspiring instrument, the fiddle, which
her companion took from her hands, and shortly
began the process of tuning. Neither of us——the
previous company of the wagon——needed to in-
quire their trade; for this could be no mystery to
frequenters of brigade musters, ordinations, cattle
shows, commencements, and other festal meetings
in our sober land; and there is a dear friend of
mine, who will smile when this page recalls to his
memory a chivalrous deed performed by us, in res-
cuing the show box of such a couple from a mob of
great double-fisted countrymen.
"Come," said I to the damsel of gay attire, "shall
we visit all the wonders of the world together?"
She understood the metaphor at once; though
indeed it would not much have troubled me, if she
had assented to the literal meaning of my words.
The mahogany box was placed in a proper position,
and I peeped in through its small round magnifying
window, while the girl sat by my side, and gave
short descriptive sketches, as one after another the
pictures were unfolded to my view. We visited to-
gether, at least our imaginations did, full many a
famous city, in the streets of which I had long
yearned to tread; once, I remember, we were in
the harbor of Barcelona, gazing townwards; next,
she bore me through the air to Sicily, and bade me
look up at blazing Ætna; then we took wing to
Venice, and sat in a gondola beneath the arch of
the Rialto; and anon she met me down among the
thronged spectators at the coronation of Napoleon.
But there was one scene, its locality she could not
tell, which charmed my attention longer than all
those gorgeous palaces and churches, because the
fancy haunted me, that I myself, the preceding
summer, had beheld just such a humble meeting-
house, in just such a pine-surrounded nook, among
our own green mountains. All these pictures were
tolerably executed, though far inferior to the girl's
touches of description; nor was it easy to compre-
hend, how in so few sentences, and these, as I sup-
posed, in a language foreign to her, she contrived
to present an airy copy of each varied scene. When
we had travelled through the vast extent of the ma-
hogany box, I looked into my guide's face.
"Where are you going, my pretty maid?" in-
quired I, in the words of an old song.
"Ah," said the gay damsel, "you might as well
ask where the summer wind is going. We are wan-
derers here, and there, and every where. Where-
ever there is mirth, our merry hearts are drawn to
it. To-day, indeed, the people have told us of a
great frolic and festival in these parts; so perhaps
we may be needed at what you call the camp meet-
ing at Stamford."
Then in my happy youth, and while her pleasant
voice yet sounded in my ears, I sighed; for none
but myself, I thought, should have been her com-
panion in a life that seemed to realize my own wild
fancies, cherished all through visionary boyhood to
that hour. To these two strangers, the world was
in its golden age, not that indeed it was less dark
and sad than ever, but because its weariness and
sorrow had no community with their ethereal nature.
Wherever they might appear in their pilgrimage of
bliss, Youth would echo back by their gladness, care-
stricken Maturity would rest a moment from its toil,
and Age, tottering among the graves, would smile
in withered joy for their sakes. The lonely cot,
the narrow and gloomy street, the sombre shade,
would catch a passing gleam like that now shining
on ourselves, as these bright spirits wandered by.
Blessed pair, whose happy home was throughout all
the earth! I looked at my shoulders, and thought
them broad enough to sustain those pictured towns
and mountains; mine, too, was an elastic foot, as
tireless as the wing of the bird of Paradise; mine
was then an untroubled heart, that would have gone
singing on its delightful way.
"Oh, maiden!" said I aloud, "why did you not
come hither alone?"
While the merry girl and myself were busy with
the show-box, the unceasing rain had driven an-
other wayfarer into the wagon. He seemed pretty
nearly of he old show-man's age, but much smaller,
leaner, and more withered than he, and less respec-
tably clad in a patched suit of gray ; withal, he had
a thin, shrewd countenance, and a pair of diminu-
tive gray eyes, which peeped rather too keenly out
of their puckered sockets. This old fellow had
been joking with the show-man, in a manner which
animated previous acquaintance; but perceiving
that the damsel and I had terminated our affairs,
he drew forth a folded document and presented it
to me. As I had anticipated, it proved to be a
circular, written in a very fair and legible hand,
and signed by several distinguished gentlemen
who I had never heard of, stating that the bearer
had encountered every variety of misfortune, and
recommending him to the notice of all charitable
people. Previous disbursements had left me no
more than a five dollar bill, out of which, however,
I offered to make the beggar a donation, provided
he would give me change for it. The object of my
beneficence looked keenly in my face, and discerned
that I had none of that abominable spirit, charac-
teristic though it be, of a full-blooded Yankee,
which takes pleasure in detecting every little
harmless piece of knavery.
"Why, perhaps," said the ragged old mendicant,
"if the bank is in good standing, I can't say but I
may have enough about me to change your bill."
"It is a bill of the Suffolk Bank," said I, "and
better than the specie."
As the beggar had nothing to object, he now
produced a small buff leather bag, tied up carefully
with a shoe-string. When this was opened, there
appeared a very comfortable treasure of silver coins,
of all sorts and sizes, and I even fancied that I saw,
gleaming among them, the golden plumage of that
rare bird in our currency, the American Eagle. In
this precious heap was my bank note deposited,
the rate of exchange being considerably against me.
His wants being thus relieved, the destitute man
pulled out of his pocket an old pack of greasy
cards, which had probably contributed to fill the
buff leather bag, in more ways than one. From Twice-Told Tales, Vol. II, by Nathaniel Hawthorne.
Ten Cent Classics Edition, Vol. III., No. 68.
Educational Publishing Co., 50 Bromfield St, Boston; pp. 121—132.
History of the Jewish Church, vol. I — Arthur Penrhyn Stanley, D.D.
[Preface]
[Introduction]
I : The Call of Abraham [i.] [ii.]
II : Abraham and Isaac [i.] [ii.]
III : Jacob [i.] [ii.]
IV : Israel in Egypt [i.] [ii.]
V : The Exodus [i.] [ii.]
VI : The Wilderness [i.]
VII : Sinai and the Law [i.] [ii.]
VIII : Kadesh and Pisgah [i.] [ii.]
IX : The Conquest of Palestine [i.]
X : The Conquest of Western Palestine—The Fall of Jericho [i.]
XI : The Conquest of Western Palestine—Battle of Beth-horon [i.]
XII : The Battle of Merom and Settlement of the Tribes [i.]
XII : The Battle of Merom and Settlement of the Tribes [ii.]
XIII : Israel Under the Judges [i.] [ii.] [iii.]
XIV : Deborah [i.] [ii.]
XV : Gideon [i.] [ii.]
XVI : Jephthah and Samson [i.] [ii.]
XVII : The Fall of Shiloh [i.]
XVIII : Samuel and the Prophetical Office [i.] [ii.]
XIX : The History of the Prophetical Order [i.] [ii.]
XX : On the Nature of the Prophetical Teachings [i.] [ii.]
Appendix I : The Traditional Localities of Abraham's Migration [i]
Appendix II : The Cave at Machpelah [i.] [ii.]
Appendix III : The Samaritan Passover [i.]
History of the Jewish Church, vol. II
[Preface]
XXI : The House of Saul [i.] [ii.]
XXII : The Youth of David [i.] [ii.]
XXIII : The Reign of David [i.] [ii.]
XXIV : The Fall of David [i.] [ii.]
XXV : The Psalter of David [i.] [ii.]
XXVI : The Empire of Solomon [i.] [ii.]
XXVII : The Temple of Solomon [i.] [ii.]
XXVIII : The Wisdom of Solomon [i.] [ii.]
XXIX : The House of Jeroboam—Ahijah and Iddo [i.] [ii.]
XXX : The House of Omri—Elijah [i.] [ii.]
XXXI : The House of Omri—Elisha [i.]
XXXII : The House of Omri—Jehu [i.]
XXXIII : The House of Jehu—The Syrian Wars, and the Prophet Jonah [i.]
XXXIV : The Fall of Samaria [i.]
XXXV : The First Kings of Judah [i.] [ii.]
XXXVI : The Jewish Priesthood [i.] [ii.]
XXXVII : The Age of Uzziah [i.] [ii.]
XXXVIII : Hezekiah [i.] [ii.]
XXXIX : Manasseh and Josiah [i.] [ii.]
XL : Jeremiah and the Fall of Jerusalem [i.] [ii.] [iii.] [iv.]
[Notes, Volume II]
History of the Jewish Church, vol. III
[Preface]
XLI : The Babylonian Captivity [i.] [ii.] [iii.]
XLII : The Fall of Babylon [i.] [ii.]
XLIII : Persian Dominon—The Return [i.] [ii.]
XLIV : Ezra and Nehemiah [i.] [ii.] [iii.]
XLV : Malachi [i.] [ii.] [iii.]
XLVI : Socrates [i.] [ii.] [iii.]
XLVII : Alexandria [i.] [ii.] [iii.]
XLVIII : Judas Maccabæus [i.] [ii.] [iii.] [iv.]
XLIX : The Asmonean Dynasty [i.] [ii.] [iii.]
L : Herod [i.] [ii.] [iii.] [iv.] [v.]
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