his library from the peddler's stockof sermons, would exhort him to seek a college education and becomethe first scholar in his class. Sweeter and prouder yet would be hissensations, when, talking poetry while he sold spelling-books, heshould charm the mind, and haply touch the heart of a fair countryschoolmistress, herself an unhonored poetess, a wearer of bluestockings which none but himself took pains to look at. But the sceneof his completest glory would be when the wagon had halted for thenight, and his stock of books was transferred to some crowded bar-room.Then would he recommend to the multifarious company, whethertraveller from the city, or teamster from the hills, or neighboringsquire, or the landlord himself, or his loutish hostler, works suitedto each particular taste and capacity; proving, all the while, byacute criticism and profound remark, that the lore in his books waseven exceeded by that in his brain.
Thus happily would he traverse the land; sometimes a herald before themarch of Mind; sometimes walking arm in arm with awful Literature; andreaping everywhere a harvest of real and sensible popularity, whichthe secluded bookworms, by whose toil he lived, could never hope for.
"If ever I meddle with literature," thought I, fixing myself inadamantine resolution, "it shall be as a travelling bookseller."
Though it was still mid-afternoon, the air had now grown dark aboutus, and a few drops of rain came down upon the roof of our vehicle,pattering like the feet of birds that had flown thither to rest. Asound of pleasant voices made us listen, and there soon appeared half-wayup the ladder the pretty person of a young damsel, whose rosy facewas so cheerful, that even amid the gloomy light it seemed as if thesunbeams were peeping under her bonnet. We next saw the dark andhandsome features of a young man, who, with easier gallantry thanmight have been expected in the heart of Yankee-land, was assistingher into the wagon. It became immediately evident to us, when the twostrangers stood within the door, that they were of a professionkindred to those of my companions; and I was delighted with the morethan hospitable, the even paternal kindness, of the old showman'smanner, as he welcomed them; while the man of literature hastened tolead the merry-eyed girl to a seat on the long bench.
"You are housed but just in time, my young friends," said the masterof the wagon. "The sky would have been down upon you within fiveminutes."
The young man's reply marked him as a foreigner, not by any variationfrom the idiom and accent of good English, but because he spoke withmore caution and accuracy, than if perfectly familiar with thelanguage.
"We knew that a shower was hanging over us," said he, "and consultedwhether it were best to enter the house on the top of yonder hill, butseeing your wagon in 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 narrowlyinspecting these two doves that had flown into our ark. The young man,tall, agile, and athletic, wore a mass of black shining curlsclustering round a dark and vivacious countenance, which, if it hadnot greater expression, was at least more active, and attractedreadier notice, than the quiet faces of our countrymen. At his firstappearance, he had been laden with a neat mahogany box, of about twofeet square, but very light in proportion to its size, which he hadimmediately unstrapped from his shoulders and deposited on the floorof the wagon.
The girl had nearly as fair a complexion as our own beauties, and abrighter one than most of them; the lightness of her figure, whichseemed calculated to traverse the whole world without weariness,suited well with the glowing cheerfulness of her face; and her gayattire, combining the rainbow hues of crimson, green, and a deeporange, was as proper to her lightsome aspect as if she had been bornin it. This gay stranger was appropriately burdened with thatmirth-inspiring instrument, the fiddle, which her companion took fromher hands, and shortly began the process of tuning. Neither of us--theprevious company of the wagon-needed to inquire their trade; for thiscould be no mystery to frequenters of brigade-musters, ordinations,cattle-shows, commencements, and other festal meetings in our soberland; and there is a dear friend of mine, who will smile when thispage recalls to his memory a chivalrous deed performed by us, inrescuing the show-box of such a couple from a mob of greatdouble-fisted countrymen.
"Come," said I to the damsel of gay attire, "shall we visit all thewonders of the world together?"
She understood the metaphor at once; though indeed it would not muchhave troubled me, if she had assented to the literal meaning of mywords. The mahogany box was placed in a proper position, and I peepedin through its small round magnifying window, while the girl sat by myside, and gave short descriptive sketches, as one after another thepictures were unfolded to my view. We visited together, at least ourimaginations did, full many a famous city, in the streets of which Ihad long yearned to tread; once, I remember, we were in the harbor ofBarcelona, gazing townwards; next, she bore me through the air toSicily, and bade me look up at blazing AEtna; then we took wing toVenice, and sat in a gondola beneath the arch of the Rialto; and anonshe sat me down among the thronged spectators at the coronation ofNapoleon. But there was one scene, its locality she could not tell,which charmed my attention longer than all those gorgeous palaces andchurches, because the fancy hammed me, that I myself, the precedingsummer, had beheld just such a humble meeting-house, in just such apine-surrounded nook, among our own green mountains. All thesepictures were tolerably executed, though far inferior to the girl'stouches of description; nor was it easy to comprehend, how in so fewsentences, and these, as I supposed, in a language foreign to her, shecontrived to present an airy copy of each varied scene. When we hadtravelled through the vast extent of the mahogany box, I looked intomy guide's face.
"Where are you going, my pretty maid?" inquired I, in the words of anold song.
"Ah," said the gay damsel, "you might as well ask where the summerwind is going. We are wanderers here, and there, and everywhere.Wherever there is mirth, our merry hearts are drawn to it. To-day,indeed, the people have told us of a great frolic and festival inthese parts; so perhaps we may be needed at what you call thecamp-meeting at Stamford."
Then in my happy youth, and while her pleasant voice yet sounded in myears, I sighed; for none but myself, I thought, should have been hercompanion in a life which seemed to realize my own wild fancies,cherished all through visionary boyhood to that hour. To these twostrangers the world was in its golden age, not that indeed it was lessdark and sad than ever, but because its weariness and sorrow had nocommunity with their ethereal nature. Wherever they might appear intheir pilgrimage of bliss, Youth would echo back their gladness,care-stricken Maturity would rest a moment from its toil, and Age,tottering among the graves, would smile in withered joy for theirsakes. The lonely cot, the narrow and gloomy street, the sombreshade, would catch a passing gleam like that now shining on ourselves,as these bright spirits wandered by. Blessed pair, whose happy homewas throughout all the earth! I looked at my shoulders, and thoughtthem broad enough to sustain those pictured towns and mountains; mine,too, was an elastic foot, as tireless as the wing of the bird ofparadise; mine was then an untroubled heart, that would have gonesinging on its delightful way.
"O maiden!" said I aloud, "why did you not come hither alone?"
While the merry girl and myself were busy with the show-box, theunceasing rain had driven another wayfarer into the wagon. He seemedpretty nearly of the old showman's age, but much smaller, leaner, andmore withered than he, and less respectably clad in a patched suit ofgray; withal, he had a thin, shrewd countenance, and a pair ofdiminutive gray eyes, which peeped rather too keenly out of theirpuckered sockets. This old fellow had been joking with the showman,in a manner which intimated previous acquaintance; but perceiving thatthe damsel and I had terminated our affairs, he drew forth a foldeddocument, and presented it to me. As I had anticipated, it proved tobe a circular, written in a very fair and legible hand, and signed byseveral distinguished gentlemen whom I had never heard of, statingthat th
e bearer had encountered every variety of misfortune, andrecommending him to the notice of all charitable people. Previousdisbursements had left me no more than a five-dollar bill, out ofwhich, however, I offered to make the beggar a donation, provided hewould give me change for it. The object of my beneficence lookedkeenly in my face, and discerned that, I had none of that abominablespirit, characteristic though it be, of a full-blooded Yankee, whichtakes pleasure in detecting every little harmless piece of knavery.
"Why, perhaps," said the ragged old mendicant, "if the bank is in goodstanding, I can't say but I may have enough about me to change yourbill."
"It is a bill of the Suffolk Bank," said I, "and better than thespecie."
As the beggar had nothing to object, he now produced a smallbuff-leather bag, tied up
The Seven Vagabonds (From Twice Told Tales) Page 2
