had lost somewhat of itsstrength, his foot of its fleetness, his mien of its wild regality,his heart and mind of their savage virtue and uncultured force; buthere, untamable to the routine of artificial life, roving now alongthe dusty road, as of old over the forest leaves, here was the Indianstill.
"Well," said the old showman, in the midst of my meditations, "here isan honest company of us,--one, two, three, four, five, six,--all goingto the camp-meeting at Stamford. Now, hoping no offence, I shouldlike to know where this young gentleman may be going?"
I started. How came I among these wanderers? The free mind, thatpreferred its own folly to another's wisdom; the open spirit, thatfound companions everywhere; above all, the restless impulse, that hadso often made me wretched in the midst of enjoyments: these were myclaims to be of their society.
"My friends!" cried I, stepping into the centre of the wagon, "I amgoing with you to the camp-meeting at Stamford."
"But in what capacity?" asked the old showman, after a moment'ssilence. "All of us here can get our bread in some creditable way.Every honest man should have his livelihood. You, sir, as I take it,are a mere strolling gentleman."
I proceeded to inform the company, that, when Nature gave me apropensity to their way of life, she had not left me altogetherdestitute of qualifications for it; though I could not deny that mytalent was less respectable, and might be less profitable, than themeanest of theirs. My design, in short, was to imitate thestorytellers of whom Oriental travellers have told us, and become anitinerant novelist, reciting my own extemporaneous fictions to suchaudiences as I could collect.
"Either this," said I, "is my vocation, or I have been born in vain."
The fortune-teller, with a sly wink to the company, proposed to takeme as an apprentice to one or other of his professions, either ofwhich, undoubtedly, would have given full scope to whatever inventivetalent I might possess. The bibliopolist spoke a few words inopposition to my plan, influenced partly, I suspect, by the jealousyof authorship, and partly by an apprehension that the _viva voce_practice would become general among novelists, to the infinitedetriment of the book-trade. Dreading a rejection, I solicited theinterest of the merry damsel.
"Mirth," cried I, most aptly appropriating the words of L'Allegro, "tothee I sue! Mirth, admit me of thy crew!"
"Let us indulge the poor youth," said Mirth, with a kindness whichmade me love her dearly, though I was no such coxcomb as tomisinterpret her motives. "I have espied much promise in him. True, ashadow sometimes flits across his brow, but the sunshine is sure tofollow in a moment. He is never guilty of a sad thought, but a merryone is twin born with it. We will take him with us; and you shall seethat he will set us all a-laughing before we reach the camp-meeting atStamford."
Her voice silenced the scruples of the rest, and gained me admittanceinto the league; according to the terms of which, without a communityof goods or profits, we were to lend each other all the aid, and avertall the harm, that might be in our power. This affair settled, amarvellous jollity entered into the whole tribe of us, manifestingitself characteristically in each individual. The old showman,sitting down to his barrel-organ, stirred up the souls of the pygmypeople with one of the quickest tunes in the music-book; tailors,blacksmiths, gentlemen, and ladies, all seemed to share in the spiritof the occasion; and the Merry-Andrew played his part more facetiouslythan ever, nodding and winking particularly at me. The youngforeigner flourished his fiddle-bow with a master's hand, and gave aninspiring echo to the showman's melody. The bookish man and the merrydamsel started up simultaneously to dance; the former enacting thedouble shuffle in a style which everybody must have witnessed, ereElection week was blotted out of time; while the girl, setting herarms akimbo with both hands at her slim waist, displayed such lightrapidity of foot, and harmony of varying attitude and motion, that Icould not conceive how she ever was to stop; imagining, at the moment,that Nature had made her, as the old showman had made his puppets, forno earthly purpose but to dance jigs. The Indian bellowed forth asuccession of most hideous outcries, somewhat afrighting us, till weinterpreted them as the war-song, with which, in imitation of hisancestors, he was prefacing the assault on Stamford. The conjurer,meanwhile, sat demurely in a corner, extracting a sly enjoyment fromthe whole scene, and, like the facetious Merry Andrew, directing hisqueer glance particularly at me.
As for myself, with great exhilaration of fancy, I began to arrangeand color the incidents of a tale, wherewith I proposed to amuse anaudience that very evening; for I saw that my associates were a littleashamed of me, and that no time was to be lost in obtaining a publicacknowledgment of my abilities.
"Come, fellow-laborers," at last said the old showman, whom we hadelected President; "the shower is over, and we must be doing our dutyby these poor souls at Stamford."
"We'll come among them in procession, with music and dancing," criedthe merry damsel.
Accordingly--for it must be understood that our pilgrimage was to beperformed on foot--we sallied joyously out of the wagon, each of us,even the old gentleman in his white-top boots, giving a great skip aswe came down the ladder. Above our heads there was such a glory ofsunshine and splendor of clouds, and such brightness of verdure below,that, as I modestly remarked at the time, Nature seemed to have washedher face, and put on the best of her jewelry and a fresh green gown,in honor of our confederation. Casting our eyes northward, we behelda horseman approaching leisurely, and splashing through the littlepuddles on the Stamford road. Onward he came, sticking up in hissaddle with rigid perpendicularity, a tall, thin figure in rustyblack, whom the showman and the conjurer shortly recognized to be,what his aspect sufficiently indicated, a travelling preacher of greatfame among the Methodists. What puzzled us was the fact, that hisface appeared turned from, instead of to, the camp-meeting atStamford. However, as this new votary of the wandering life drew nearthe little green space, where the guidepost and our wagon weresituated, my six fellow-vagabonds and myself rushed forward andsurrounded him, crying out with united voices,--
"What news, what news from the camp-meeting at Stamford?"
The missionary looked down, in surprise, at as singular a knot ofpeople as could have been selected from all his heterogeneousauditors. Indeed, considering that we might all be classified underthe general head of Vagabond, there was great diversity of characteramong the grave old showman, the sly, prophetic beggar, the fiddlingforeigner and his merry damsel, the smart bibliopolist, the sombreIndian, and myself, the itinerant novelist, a slender youth ofeighteen. I even fancied that a smile was endeavoring to disturb theiron gravity of the preacher's mouth.
"Good people," answered he, "the camp-meeting is broke up."
So saying, the Methodist minister switched his steed, and rodewestward. Our union being thus nullified, by the removal of itsobject, we were sundered at once to the four winds of heaven. Thefortune-teller, giving a nod to all, and a peculiar wink to me,departed on his northern tour, chuckling within himself as he took theStamford road. The old showman and his literary coadjutor werealready tackling their horses to the wagon, with a design toperegrinate southwest along the seacoast. The foreigner and the merrydamsel took their laughing leave, and pursued the eastern road, whichI had that day trodden; as they passed away, the young man played alively strain, and the girl's happy spirit broke into a dance; andthus, dissolving, as it were, into sunbeams and gay music, thatpleasant pair departed from my view. Finally, with a pensive shadowthrown across my mind, yet emulous of the light philosophy of my latecompanions, I joined myself to the Penobscot Indian, and set forthtowards the distant city.
The Seven Vagabonds (From Twice Told Tales) Page 4
