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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/2479-0.txt b/2479-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..17790fd --- /dev/null +++ b/2479-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6991 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Friendly Road, by +(AKA David Grayson) Ray Stannard Baker + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Friendly Road + New Adventures in Contentment + +Author: (AKA David Grayson) Ray Stannard Baker + +Posting Date: December 13, 2008 [EBook #2479] +Release Date: February, 2001 +Last Updated: March 14, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FRIENDLY ROAD *** + + + + +Produced by Aaron Cannon + + + + + +THE FRIENDLY ROAD + +New Adventures in Contentment + +By David Grayson (Pseud. of Ray Stannard Baker) + + + Author of + “Adventure in Contentment,” + “Adventures in Friendship” + +Illustrated by Thomas Fogarty + +Copyright, 1913, by DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY + + + “Surely it is good to be alive at a time like this.” + + + + +THE FRIENDLY ROAD + + + + +A WORD TO HIM WHO OPENS THIS BOOK + +I did not plan when I began writing these chapters to make an entire +book, but only to put down the more or less unusual impressions, the +events and adventures, of certain quiet pilgrimages in country roads. +But when I had written down all of these things, I found I had material +in plenty. + +“What shall I call it now that I have written it?” I asked myself. + +At first I thought I should call it “Adventures on the Road,” or “The +Country Road,” or something equally simple, for I would not have the +title arouse any appetite which the book itself could not satisfy. One +pleasant evening I was sitting on my porch with my dog sleeping near me, +and Harriet not far away rocking and sewing, and as I looked out across +the quiet fields I could see in the distance a curving bit of the town +road. I could see the valley below it and the green hill beyond, and +my mind went out swiftly along the country road which I had so recently +travelled on foot, and I thought with deep satisfaction of all the +people I had met on my pilgrimages--the Country Minister with his +problems, the buoyant Stanleys, Bill Hahn the Socialist, the Vedders in +their garden, the Brush Peddler. I thought of the Wonderful City, and of +how for a time I had been caught up into its life. I thought of the +men I met at the livery stable, especially Healy, the wit, and of that +strange Girl of the Street. And it was good to think of them all living +around me, not so very far away, connected with me through darkness and +space by a certain mysterious human cord. Most of all I love that which +I cannot see beyond the hill. + +“Harriet,” I said aloud, “it grows more wonderful every year how full +the world is of friendly people!” + +So I got up quickly and came in here to my room, and taking a fresh +sheet of paper I wrote down the title of my new book: + +“The Friendly Road.” + +I invite you to travel with me upon this friendly road. You may find, +as I did, something which will cause you for a time, to forget yourself +into contentment. But if you chance to be a truly serious person, put +down my book. Let nothing stay your hurried steps, nor keep you from +your way. + +As for those of us who remain, we will loiter as much as ever we please. +We'll take toll of these spring days, we'll stop wherever evening +overtakes us, we'll eat the food of hospitality--and make friends for +life! + +DAVID GRAYSON. + + + +CONTENTS + +Preface + + I. I Leave My Farm + + II. I Whistle + + III. The House by the Side of the Road + + IV. I Am the Spectator of a Mighty Battle, in which Christian + Meets Apollyon + + V. I Play the Part of a Spectacle Peddler + + VI. An Experiment in Human Nature + + VII. The Undiscovered Country + + VIII. The Hedge + + IX. The Man Possessed + + X. I Am Caught Up Into Life + + XI. I Come to Grapple with the City + + XII. The Return + + + + +CHAPTER I. I LEAVE MY FARM + + “Is it so small a thing + To have enjoyed the sun, + To have lived light in spring?” + +It is eight o'clock of a sunny spring morning. I have been on the road +for almost three hours. At five I left the town of Holt, before six I +had crossed the railroad at a place called Martin's Landing, and an hour +ago, at seven, I could see in the distance the spires of Nortontown. And +all the morning as I came tramping along the fine country roads with my +pack-strap resting warmly on my shoulder, and a song in my throat--just +nameless words to a nameless tune--and all the birds singing, and all +the brooks bright under their little bridges, I knew that I must soon +step aside and put down, if I could, some faint impression of the +feeling of this time and place. I cannot hope to convey any adequate +sense of it all--of the feeling of lightness, strength, clearness, I +have as I sit here under this maple tree--but I am going to write as +long as ever I am happy at it, and when I am no longer happy at it, why, +here at my very hand lies the pleasant country road, stretching away +toward newer hills and richer scenes. + +Until to-day I have not really been quite clear in my own mind as to the +step I have taken. My sober friend, have you ever tried to do anything +that the world at large considers not quite sensible, not quite sane? +Try it! It is easier to commit a thundering crime. A friend of mine +delights in walking to town bareheaded, and I fully believe the +neighbourhood is more disquieted thereby than it would be if my friend +came home drunken or failed to pay his debts. + +Here I am then, a farmer, forty miles from home in planting time, taking +his ease under a maple tree and writing in a little book held on his +knee! Is not that the height of absurdity? Of all my friends the Scotch +Preacher was the only one who seemed to understand why it was that I +must go away for a time. Oh, I am a sinful and revolutionary person! + +When I left home last week, if you could have had a truthful picture of +me--for is there not a photography so delicate that it will catch the +dim thought-shapes which attend upon our lives?--if you could have had +such a truthful picture of me, you would have seen, besides a farmer +named Grayson with a gray bag hanging from his shoulder, a strange +company following close upon his steps. Among this crew you would have +made out easily: + +Two fine cows. Four Berkshire pigs. One team of gray horses, the +old mare a little lame in her right foreleg. About fifty hens, four +cockerels, and a number of ducks and geese. + +More than this--I shall offer no explanation in these writings of any +miracles that may appear--you would have seen an entirely respectable +old farmhouse bumping and hobbling along as best it might in the rear. +And in the doorway, Harriet Grayson, in her immaculate white apron, with +the veritable look in her eyes which she wears when I am not comporting +myself with quite the proper decorum. + +Oh, they would not let me go! How they all followed clamoring after me. +My thoughts coursed backward faster than ever I could run away. If you +could have heard that motley crew of the barnyard as I did--the hens +all cackling, the ducks quacking, the pigs grunting, and the old mare +neighing and stamping, you would have thought it a miracle that I +escaped at all. + +So often we think in a superior and lordly manner of our possessions, +when, as a matter of fact, we do not really possess them, they possess +us. For ten years I have been the humble servant, attending upon the +commonest daily needs of sundry hens, ducks, geese, pigs, bees, and of +a fussy and exacting old gray mare. And the habit of servitude, I find, +has worn deep scars upon me. I am almost like the life prisoner who +finds the door of his cell suddenly open, and fears to escape. Why, I +had almost become ALL farmer. + +On the first morning after I left home I awoke as usual about five +o'clock with the irresistible feeling that I must do the milking. So +well disciplined had I become in my servitude that I instinctively +thrust my leg out of bed--but pulled it quickly back in again, turned +over, drew a long, luxurious breath, and said to myself: + +“Avaunt cows! Get thee behind me, swine! Shoo, hens!” + +Instantly the clatter of mastery to which I had responded so quickly +for so many years grew perceptibly fainter, the hens cackled less +domineeringly, the pigs squealed less insistently, and as for the +strutting cockerel, that lordly and despotic bird stopped fairly in the +middle of a crow, and his voice gurgled away in a spasm of astonishment. +As for the old farmhouse, it grew so dim I could scarcely see it at all! +Having thus published abroad my Declaration of Independence, nailed my +defiance to the door, and otherwise established myself as a free person, +I turned over in my bed and took another delicious nap. + +Do you know, friend, we can be free of many things that dominate our +lives by merely crying out a rebellious “Avaunt!” + +But in spite of this bold beginning, I assure you it required several +days to break the habit of cows and hens. The second morning I awakened +again at five o'clock, but my leg did not make for the side of the +bed; the third morning I was only partially awakened, and on the fourth +morning I slept like a millionaire (or at least I slept as a millionaire +is supposed to sleep!) until the clock struck seven. + +For some days after I left home--and I walked out as casually that +morning as though I were going to the barn--I scarcely thought or +tried to think of anything but the Road. Such an unrestrained sense of +liberty, such an exaltation of freedom, I have not known since I was a +lad. When I came to my farm from the city many years ago it was as one +bound, as one who had lost out in the World's battle and was seeking +to get hold again somewhere upon the realities of life. I have related +elsewhere how I thus came creeping like one sore wounded from the field +of battle, and how, among our hills, in the hard, steady labour in the +soil of the fields, with new and simple friends around me, I found a +sort of rebirth or resurrection. I that was worn out, bankrupt both +physically and morally, learned to live again. I have achieved something +of high happiness in these years, something I know of pure contentment; +and I have learned two or three deep and simple things about life: I +have learned that happiness is not to be had for the seeking, but comes +quietly to him who pauses at his difficult task and looks upward. I have +learned that friendship is very simple, and, more than all else, I have +learned the lesson of being quiet, of looking out across the meadows and +hills, and of trusting a little in God. + +And now, for the moment, I am regaining another of the joys of +youth--that of the sense of perfect freedom. I made no plans when I +left home, I scarcely chose the direction in which I was to travel, +but drifted out, as a boy might, into the great busy world. Oh, I have +dreamed of that! It seems almost as though, after ten years, I might +again really touch the highest joys of adventure! + +So I took the Road as it came, as a man takes a woman, for better or +worse--I took the Road, and the farms along it, and the sleepy little +villages, and the streams from the hillsides--all with high enjoyment. +They were good coin in my purse! And when I had passed the narrow +horizon of my acquaintanceship, and reached country new to me, it seemed +as though every sense I had began to awaken. I must have grown dull, +unconsciously, in the last years there on my farm. I cannot describe the +eagerness of discovery I felt at climbing each new hill, nor the long +breath I took at the top of it as I surveyed new stretches of pleasant +countryside. + +Assuredly this is one of the royal moments of all the year--fine, cool, +sparkling spring weather. I think I never saw the meadows richer and +greener--and the lilacs are still blooming, and the catbirds and orioles +are here. The oaks are not yet in full leaf, but the maples have nearly +reached their full mantle of verdure--they are very beautiful and +charming to see. + +It is curious how at this moment of the year all the world seems astir. +I suppose there is no moment in any of the seasons when the whole army +of agriculture, regulars and reserves, is so fully drafted for service +in the fields. And all the doors and windows, both in the little +villages and on the farms, stand wide open to the sunshine, and all the +women and girls are busy in the yards and gardens. Such a fine, active, +gossipy, adventurous world as it is at this moment of the year! + +It is the time, too, when all sorts of travelling people are afoot. +People who have been mewed up in the cities for the winter now take to +the open road--all the peddlers and agents and umbrella-menders, all the +nursery salesmen and fertilizer agents, all the tramps and scientists +and poets--all abroad in the wide sunny roads. They, too, know well this +hospitable moment of the spring; they, too, know that doors and hearts +are open and that even into dull lives creeps a bit of the spirit of +adventure. Why, a farmer will buy a corn planter, feed a tramp, or +listen to a poet twice as easily at this time of year as at any other! + +For several days I found myself so fully occupied with the bustling life +of the Road that I scarcely spoke to a living soul, but strode straight +ahead. The spring has been late and cold: most of the corn and some of +the potatoes are not yet in, and the tobacco lands are still bare and +brown. Occasionally I stopped to watch some ploughman in the fields: +I saw with a curious, deep satisfaction how the moist furrows, freshly +turned, glistened in the warm sunshine. There seemed to be something +right and fit about it, as well as human and beautiful. Or at evening +I would stop to watch a ploughman driving homeward across his new brown +fields, raising a cloud of fine dust from the fast drying furrow +crests. The low sun shining through the dust and glorifying it, the +weary-stepping horses, the man all sombre-coloured like the earth +itself and knit into the scene as though a part of it, made a picture +exquisitely fine to see. + +And what a joy I had also of the lilacs blooming in many a dooryard, the +odour often trailing after me for a long distance in the road, and of +the pungent scent at evening in the cool hollows of burning brush +heaps and the smell of barnyards as I went by--not unpleasant, not +offensive--and above all, the deep, earthy, moist odour of new-ploughed +fields. + +And then, at evening, to hear the sound of voices from the dooryards as +I pass quite unseen; no words, but just pleasant, quiet intonations of +human voices, borne through the still air, or the low sounds of cattle +in the barnyards, quieting down for the night, and often, if near a +village, the distant, slumbrous sound of a church bell, or even the +rumble of a train--how good all these sounds are! They have all come +to me again this week with renewed freshness and impressiveness. I am +living deep again! + +It was not, indeed, until last Wednesday that I began to get my fill, +temporarily, of the outward satisfaction of the Road--the primeval +takings of the senses--the mere joys of seeing, hearing, smelling, +touching. But on that day I began to wake up; I began to have a desire +to know something of all the strange and interesting people who are +working in their fields, or standing invitingly in their doorways, or so +busily afoot in the country roads. Let me add, also, for this is one of +the most important parts of my present experience, that this new desire +was far from being wholly esoteric. I had also begun to have cravings +which would not in the least be satisfied by landscapes or dulled by the +sights and sounds of the road. A whiff here and there from a doorway +at mealtime had made me long for my own home, for the sight of Harriet +calling from the steps: + +“Dinner, David.” + +But I had covenanted with myself long before starting that I would +literally “live light in spring.” It was the one and primary condition I +made with myself--and made with serious purpose--and when I came away I +had only enough money in my pocket and sandwiches in my pack to see me +through the first three or four days. Any man may brutally pay his way +anywhere, but it is quite another thing to be accepted by your humankind +not as a paid lodger but as a friend. Always, it seems to me, I have +wanted to submit myself, and indeed submit the stranger, to that test. +Moreover, how can any man look for true adventure in life if he always +knows to a certainty where his next meal is coming from? In a world so +completely dominated by goods, by things, by possessions, and smothered +by security, what fine adventure is left to a man of spirit save the +adventure of poverty? + +I do not mean by this the adventure of involuntary poverty, for I +maintain that involuntary poverty, like involuntary riches, is a credit +to no man. It is only as we dominate life that we really live. What I +mean here, if I may so express it, is an adventure in achieved poverty. +In the lives of such true men as Francis of Assisi and Tolstoi, that +which draws the world to them in secret sympathy is not that they lived +lives of poverty, but rather, having riches at their hands, or for the +very asking, that they chose poverty as the better way of life. + +As for me, I do not in the least pretend to have accepted the final +logic of an achieved poverty. I have merely abolished temporarily from +my life a few hens and cows, a comfortable old farmhouse, and--certain +other emoluments and hereditaments--but remain the slave of sundry cloth +upon my back and sundry articles in my gray bag--including a fat pocket +volume or so, and a tin whistle. Let them pass now. To-morrow I may wish +to attempt life with still less. I might survive without my battered +copy of “Montaigne” or even submit to existence without that sense +of distant companionship symbolized by a postage-stamp, and as for +trousers-- + +In this deceptive world, how difficult of attainment is perfection! + +No, I expect I shall continue for a long time to owe the worm his silk, +the beast his hide, the sheep his wool, and the cat his perfume! What +I am seeking is something as simple and as quiet as the trees or the +hills--just to look out around me at the pleasant countryside, to enjoy +a little of this show, to meet (and to help a little if I may) a few +human beings, and thus to get nearly into the sweet kernel of human +life. My friend, you may or may not think this a worthy object; if +you do not, stop here, go no further with me; but if you do, why, we'll +exchange great words on the road; we'll look up at the sky together, +we'll see and hear the finest things in this world! We'll enjoy the sun! +We'll live light in spring! + +Until last Tuesday, then, I was carried easily and comfortably onward +by the corn, the eggs, and the honey of my past labours, and before +Wednesday noon I began to experience in certain vital centres +recognizable symptoms of a variety of discomfort anciently familiar to +man. And it was all the sharper because I did not know how or where I +could assuage it. In all my life, in spite of various ups and downs in +a fat world, I don't think I was ever before genuinely hungry. Oh, I've +been hungry in a reasonable, civilized way, but I have always known +where in an hour or so I could get all I wanted to eat--a condition +accountable, in this world, I am convinced, for no end of stupidity. But +to be both physically and, let us say, psychologically hungry, and not +to know where or how to get anything to eat, adds something to the zest +of life. + +By noon on Wednesday, then, I was reduced quite to a point of necessity. +But where was I to begin, and how? I know from long experience the +suspicion with which the ordinary farmer meets the Man of the Road--the +man who appears to wish to enjoy the fruits of the earth without working +for them with his hands. It is a distrust deep-seated and ages old. Nor +can the Man of the Road ever quite understand the Man of the Fields. And +here was I, for so long the stationary Man of the Fields, essaying +the role of the Man of the Road. I experienced a sudden sense of the +enlivenment of the faculties: I must now depend upon wit or cunning or +human nature to win my way, not upon mere skill of the hand or strength +in the bent back. Whereas in my former life, when I was assailed by a +Man of the Road, whether tramp or peddler or poet, I had only to stand +stock-still within my fences and say nothing--though indeed I never +could do that, being far too much interested in every one who came my +way--and the invader was soon repelled. There is nothing so resistant as +the dull security of possession the stolidity of ownership! + +Many times that day I stopped by a field side or at the end of a lane, +or at a house-gate, and considered the possibilities of making an +attack. Oh, I measured the houses and barns I saw with a new eye! The +kind of country I had known so long and familiarly became a new and +foreign land, full of strange possibilities. I spied out the men in the +fields and did not fail, also, to see what I could of the commissary +department of each farmstead as I passed. I walked for miles looking +thus for a favourable opening--and with a sensation of embarrassment at +once disagreeable and pleasurable. As the afternoon began to deepen I +saw that I must absolutely do something: a whole day tramping in the +open air without a bite to eat is an irresistible argument. + +Presently I saw from the road a farmer and his son planting potatoes in +a sloping field. There was no house at all in view. At the bars stood a +light wagon half filled with bags of seed potatoes, and the horse which +had drawn it stood quietly, not far off, tied to the fence. The man and +the boy, each with a basket on his arm, were at the farther end of the +field, dropping potatoes. I stood quietly watching them. They stepped +quickly and kept their eyes on the furrows: good workers. I liked the +looks of them. I liked also the straight, clean furrows; I liked the +appearance of the horse. + +“I will stop here,” I said to myself. + +I cannot at all convey the sense of high adventure I had as I stood +there. Though I had not the slightest idea of what I should do or say, +yet I was determined upon the attack. + +Neither father nor son saw me until they had nearly reached the end of +the field. + +“Step lively, Ben,” I heard the man say with some impatience; “we've got +to finish this field to-day.” + +“I AM steppin' lively, dad,” responded the boy, “but it's awful hot. We +can't possibly finish to-day. It's too much.” + +“We've got to get through here to-day,” the man replied grimly; “we're +already two weeks late.” + +I know just how the man felt; for I knew well the difficulty a farmer +has in getting help in planting time. The spring waits for no man. My +heart went out to the man and boy struggling there in the heat of their +field. For this is the real warfare of the common life. + +“Why,” I said to myself with a curious lift of the heart, “they have +need of a fellow just like me.” + +At that moment the boy saw me and, missing a step in the rhythm of the +planting, the father also looked up and saw me. But neither said a word +until the furrows were finished, and the planters came to refill their +baskets. + +“Fine afternoon,” I said, sparring for an opening. + +“Fine,” responded the man rather shortly, glancing up from his work. I +recalled the scores of times I had been exactly in his place, and had +glanced up to see the stranger in the road. + +“Got another basket handy?” I asked. + +“There is one somewhere around here,” he answered not too cordially. The +boy said nothing at all, but eyed me with absorbing interest. The gloomy +look had already gone from his face. + +I slipped my gray bag from my shoulder, took off my coat, and put them +both down inside the fence. Then I found the basket and began to fill it +from one of the bags. Both man and boy looked up at me questioningly. I +enjoyed the situation immensely. + +“I heard you say to your son,” I said, “that you'd have to hurry in +order to get in your potatoes to-day. I can see that for myself. Let me +take a hand for a row or two.” + +The unmistakable shrewd look of the bargainer came suddenly into the +man's face, but when I went about my business without hesitation or +questioning, he said nothing at all. As for the boy, the change in his +countenance was marvellous to see. Something new and astonishing had +come into the world. Oh, I know what a thing it is to be a boy and to +work in trouting time! + +“How near are you planting, Ben?” I asked. + +“About fourteen inches.” + +So we began in fine spirits. I was delighted with the favourable +beginning of my enterprise; there is nothing which so draws men together +as their employment at a common task. + +Ben was a lad some fifteen years old-very stout and stocky, with a fine +open countenance and a frank blue eye--all boy. His nose was as freckled +as the belly of a trout. The whole situation, including the prospect of +help in finishing a tiresome job, pleased him hugely. He stole a glimpse +from time to time at me then at his father. Finally he said: + +“Say, you'll have to step lively to keep up with dad.” + +“I'll show you,” I said, “how we used to drop potatoes when I was a +boy.” + +And with that I began to step ahead more quickly and make the pieces +fairly fly. + +“We old fellows,” I said to the father, “must give these young sprouts a +lesson once in a while.” + +“You will, will you?” responded the boy, and instantly began to drop the +potatoes at a prodigious speed. The father followed with more dignity, +but with evident amusement, and so we all came with a rush to the end of +the row. + +“I guess that beats the record across THIS field!” remarked the lad, +puffing and wiping his forehead. “Say, but you're a good one!” + +It gave me a peculiar thrill of pleasure; there is nothing more pleasing +than the frank admiration of a boy. + +We paused a moment and I said to the man: “This looks like fine potato +land.” + +“The' ain't any better in these parts,” he replied with some pride in +his voice. + +And so we went at the planting again: and as we planted we had great +talk of seed potatoes and the advantages and disadvantages of mechanical +planters, of cultivating and spraying, and all the lore of prices and +profits. Once we stopped at the lower end of the field to get a drink +from a jug of water set in the shade of a fence corner, and once we set +the horse in the thills and moved the seed farther up the field. And +tired and hungry as I felt I really enjoyed the work; I really enjoyed +talking with this busy father and son, and I wondered what their home +life was like and what were their real ambitions and hopes. Thus the sun +sank lower and lower, the long shadows began to creep into the valleys, +and we came finally toward the end of the field. Suddenly the boy Ben +cried out: + +“There's Sis!” + +I glanced up and saw standing near the gateway a slim, bright girl of +about twelve in a fresh gingham dress. + +“We're coming!” roared Ben, exultantly. + +While we were hitching up the horse, the man said to me: + +“You'll come down with us and have some supper.” + +“Indeed I will,” I replied, trying not to make my response too eager. + +“Did mother make gingerbread to-day?” I heard the boy whisper audibly. + +“Sh-h--” replied the girl, “who is that man?” + +“_I_ don't know” with a great accent of mystery--“and dad don't know. +Did mother make gingerbread?” + +“Sh-h--he'll hear you.” + +“Gee! but he can plant potatoes. He dropped down on us out of a clear +sky.” + +“What is he?” she asked. “A tramp?” + +“Nope, not a tramp. He works. But, Sis, did mother make gingerbread?” + +So we all got into the light wagon and drove briskly out along the shady +country road. The evening was coming on, and the air was full of the +scent of blossoms. We turned finally into a lane and thus came promptly, +for the horse was as eager as we, to the capacious farmyard. A motherly +woman came out from the house, spoke to her son, and nodded pleasantly +to me. There was no especial introduction. I said merely, “My name is +Grayson,” and I was accepted without a word. + +I waited to help the man, whose name I had now learned--it was +Stanley--with his horse and wagon, and then we came up to the house. +Near the back door there was a pump, with a bench and basin set just +within a little cleanly swept, open shed. Rolling back my collar and +baring my arms I washed myself in the cool water, dashing it over my +head until I gasped, and then stepping back, breathless and refreshed, +I found the slim girl, Mary, at my elbow with a clean soft towel. As +I stood wiping quietly I could smell the ambrosial odours from the +kitchen. In all my life I never enjoyed a moment more than that, I +think. + +“Come in now,” said the motherly Mrs. Stanley. + +So we filed into the roomy kitchen, where an older girl, called Kate, +was flying about placing steaming dishes upon the table. There was also +an older son, who had been at the farm chores. It was altogether a fine, +vigorous, independent American family. So we all sat down and drew up +our chairs. Then we paused a moment, and the father, bowing his head, +said in a low voice: + +“For all Thy good gifts, Lord, we thank Thee. Preserve us and keep us +through another night.” + +I suppose it was a very ordinary farm meal, but it seems to me I never +tasted a better one. The huge piles of new baked bread, the sweet farm +butter, already delicious with the flavour of new grass, the bacon and +eggs, the potatoes, the rhubarb sauce, the great plates of new, hot +gingerbread and, at the last, the custard pie--a great wedge of it, with +fresh cheese. After the first ravenous appetite of hardworking men was +satisfied, there came to be a good deal of lively conversation. The +girls had some joke between them which Ben was trying in vain to fathom. +The older son told how much milk a certain Alderney cow had given, +and Mr. Stanley, quite changed now as he sat at his own table from the +rather grim farmer of the afternoon, revealed a capacity for a husky +sort of fun, joking Ben about his potato-planting and telling in a +lively way of his race with me. As for Mrs. Stanley, she sat smiling +behind her tall coffee pot, radiating good cheer and hospitality. They +asked me no questions at all, and I was so hungry and tired that I +volunteered no information. + +After supper we went out for half or three quarters of an hour to do +some final chores, and Mr. Stanley and I stopped in the cattle yard and +looked over the cows, and talked learnedly about the pigs, and I admired +his spring calves to his hearts content, for they really were a +fine lot. When we came in again the lamps had been lighted in the +sitting-room and the older daughter was at the telephone exchanging +the news of the day with some neighbour--and with great laughter and +enjoyment. Occasionally she would turn and repeat some bit of gossip to +the family, and Mrs. Stanley would claim: + +“Do tell!” + +“Can't we have a bit of music to-night?” inquired Mr. Stanley. + +Instantly Ben and the slim girl, Mary, made a wild dive for the front +room--the parlour--and came out with a first-rate phonograph which they +placed on the table. + +“Something lively now,” said Mr. Stanley. + +So they put on a rollicking negro song called. “My Georgia Belle,” + which, besides the tuneful voices, introduced a steamboat whistle and +a musical clangour of bells. When it wound up with a bang, Mr. Stanley +took his big comfortable pipe out of his mouth and cried out: + +“Fine, fine!” + +We had further music of the same sort and with one record the older +daughter, Kate, broke into the song with a full, strong though +uncultivated voice--which pleased us all very much indeed. + +Presently Mrs. Stanley, who was sitting under the lamp with a basket of +socks to mend, began to nod. + +“Mother's giving the signal,” said the older son. + +“No, no, I'm not a bit sleepy,” exclaimed Mrs. Stanley. + +But with further joking and laughing the family began to move about. The +older daughter gave me a hand lamp and showed me the way upstairs to a +little room at the end of the house. + +“I think,” she said with pleasant dignity, “you will find everything you +need.” + +I cannot tell with what solid pleasure I rolled into bed or how soundly +and sweetly I slept. + +This was the first day of my real adventures. + + + +CHAPTER II. I WHISTLE + +When I was a boy I learned after many discouragements to play on a tin +whistle. There was a wandering old fellow in our town who would sit for +hours on the shady side of a certain ancient hotel-barn, and with his +little whistle to his lips, and gently swaying his head to his tune and +tapping one foot in the gravel, he would produce the most wonderful +and beguiling melodies. His favourite selections were very lively; he +played, I remember, “Old Dan Tucker,” and “Money Musk,” and the tune of +a rollicking old song, now no doubt long forgotten, called “Wait for +the Wagon.” I can see him yet, with his jolly eyes half closed, his +lips puckered around the whistle, and his fingers curiously and stiffly +poised over the stops. I am sure I shall never forget the thrill which +his music gave to the heart of a certain barefoot boy. + +At length, by means I have long since forgotten, I secured a tin whistle +exactly like Old Tom Madison's and began diligently to practise such +tunes as I knew. I am quite sure now that I must have made a nuisance +of myself, for it soon appeared to be the set purpose of every member +of the family to break up my efforts. Whenever my father saw me with the +whistle to my lips, he would instantly set me at some useful work (oh, +he was an adept in discovering useful work to do--for a boy!). And at +the very sight of my stern aunt I would instantly secrete my whistle +in my blouse and fly for the garret or cellar, like a cat caught in the +cream. Such are the early tribulations of musical genius! + +At last I discovered a remote spot on a beam in the hay-barn where, +lighted by a ray of sunlight which came through a crack in the eaves +and pointed a dusty golden finger into that hay-scented interior, I +practised rapturously and to my heart's content upon my tin whistle. +I learned “Money Musk” until I could play it in Old Tom Madison's best +style--even to the last nod and final foot-tap. I turned a certain +church hymn called “Yield Not to Temptation” into something quite +inspiriting, and I played “Marching Through Georgia” until all the +“happy hills of hay” were to the fervid eye of a boy's imagination full +of tramping soldiers. Oh, I shall never forget the joys of those hours +in the hay-barn, nor the music of that secret tin whistle! I can hear +yet the crooning of the pigeons in the eaves, and the slatey sound of +their wings as they flew across the open spaces in the great barn; I can +smell yet the odour of the hay. + +But with years, and the city, and the shame of youth, I put aside and +almost forgot the art of whistling. When I was preparing for the present +pilgrimage, however, it came to me with a sudden thrill of pleasure that +nothing in the wide world now prevented me from getting a whistle and +seeing whether I had forgotten my early cunning. At the very first +good-sized town I came to I was delighted to find at a little candy and +toy shop just the sort of whistle I wanted, at the extravagant price of +ten cents. I bought it and put it in the bottom of my knapsack. + +“Am I not old enough now,” I said to myself, “to be as youthful as I +choose?” + +Isn't it the strangest thing in the world how long it takes us to learn +to accept the joys of simple pleasures?--and some of us never learn at +all. “Boo!” says the neighbourhood, and we are instantly frightened into +doing a thousand unnecessary and unpleasant things, or prevented from +doing a thousand beguiling things. + +For the first few days I was on the road I thought often with pleasure +of the whistle lying there in my bag, but it was not until after I left +the Stanleys' that I felt exactly in the mood to try it. + +The fact is, my adventures on the Stanley farm had left me in a very +cheerful frame of mind. They convinced me that some of the great things +I had expected of my pilgrimage were realizable possibilities. Why, I +had walked right into the heart of as fine a family as I have seen these +many days. + +I remained with them the entire day following the potato-planting. We +were out at five o'clock in the morning, and after helping with +the chores, and eating a prodigious breakfast, we went again to the +potato-field, and part of the time I helped plant a few remaining rows, +and part of the time I drove a team attached to a wing-plow to cover the +planting of the previous day. + +In the afternoon a slashing spring rain set in, and Mr. Stanley, who +was a forehanded worker, found a job for all of us in the barn. Ben, +the younger son, and I sharpened mower-blades and a scythe or so, Ben +turning the grindstone and I holding the blades and telling him stories +into the bargain. Mr. Stanley and his stout older son overhauled the +work-harness and tinkered the corn-planter. The doors at both ends +of the barn stood wide open, and through one of them, framed like a +picture, we could see the scudding floods descend upon the meadows, and +through the other, across a fine stretch of open country, we could see +all the roads glistening and the treetops moving under the rain. + +“Fine, fine!” exclaimed Mr. Stanley, looking out from time to time, “we +got in our potatoes just in the nick of time.” + +After supper that evening I told them of my plan to leave them on the +following morning. + +“Don't do that,” said Mrs. Stanley heartily; “stay on with us.” + +“Yes,” said Mr. Stanley, “we're shorthanded, and I'd be glad to have a +man like you all summer. There ain't any one around here will pay a good +man more'n I will, nor treat 'im better.” + +“I'm sure of it, Mr. Stanley,” I said, “but I can't stay with you.” + +At that the tide of curiosity which I had seen rising ever since I +came began to break through. Oh, I know how difficult it is to let the +wanderer get by without taking toll of him! There are not so many people +here in the country that we can afford to neglect them. And as I had +nothing in the world to conceal, and, indeed, loved nothing better than +the give and take of getting acquainted, we were soon at it in good +earnest. + +But it was not enough to tell them that my name was David Grayson and +where my farm was located, and how many acres there were, and how much +stock I had, and what I raised. The great particular “Why?”--as I knew +it would be--concerned my strange presence on the road at this season of +the year and the reason why I should turn in by chance, as I had done, +to help at their planting. If a man is stationary, it seems quite +impossible for him to imagine why any one should care to wander; and +as for the wanderer it is inconceivable to him how any one can remain +permanently at home. + +We were all sitting comfortably around the table in the living-room. The +lamps were lighted, and Mr. Stanley, in slippers, was smoking his pipe +and Mrs. Stanley was darning socks over a mending-gourd, and the two +young Stanleys were whispering and giggling about some matter of supreme +consequence to youth. The windows were open, and we could smell the +sweet scent of the lilacs from the yard and hear the drumming of the +rain as it fell on the roof of the porch. + +“It's easy to explain,” I said. “The fact is, it got to the point on my +farm that I wasn't quite sure whether I owned it or it owned me. And I +made up my mind I'd get away for a while from my own horses and cattle +and see what the world was like. I wanted to see how people lived up +here, and what they are thinking about, and how they do their farming.” + +As I talked of my plans and of the duty one had, as I saw it, to be a +good broad man as well as a good farmer, I grew more and more interested +and enthusiastic. Mr. Stanley took his pipe slowly from his mouth, held +it poised until it finally went out, and sat looking at me with a rapt +expression. I never had a better audience. Finally, Mr. Stanley said +very earnestly: + +“And you have felt that way, too?” + +“Why, father!” exclaimed Mrs. Stanley, in astonishment. + +Mr. Stanley hastily put his pipe back into his mouth and confusedly +searched in his pockets for a match; but I knew I had struck down deep +into a common experience. Here was this brisk and prosperous farmer +having his dreams too--dreams that even his wife did not know! + +So I continued my talk with even greater fervour. I don't think that the +boy Ben understood all that I said, for I was dealing with experiences +common mostly to older men, but he somehow seemed to get the spirit of +it, for quite unconsciously he began to hitch his chair toward me, then +he laid his hand on my chair-arm and finally and quite simply he rested +his arm against mine and looked at me with all his eyes. I keep learning +that there is nothing which reaches men's hearts like talking straight +out the convictions and emotions of your innermost soul. Those who hear +you may not agree with you, or they may not understand you fully, but +something incalculable, something vital, passes. And as for a boy or +girl it is one of the sorriest of mistakes to talk down to them; almost +always your lad of fifteen thinks more simply, more fundamentally, than +you do; and what he accepts as good coin is not facts or precepts, but +feelings and convictions--LIFE. And why shouldn't we speak out? + +“I long ago decided,” I said, “to try to be fully what I am and not to +be anything or anybody else.” + +“That's right, that's right,” exclaimed Mr. Stanley, nodding his head +vigorously. + +“It's about the oldest wisdom there is,” I said, and with that I thought +of the volume I carried in my pocket, and straightway I pulled it out +and after a moment's search found the passage I wanted. + +“Listen,” I said, “to what this old Roman philosopher said”--and I held +the book up to the lamp and read aloud: + +“'You can be invincible if you enter into no contest in which it is +not in your power to conquer. Take care, then, when you observe a man +honoured before others or possessed of great power, or highly esteemed +for any reason, not to suppose him happy and be not carried away by the +appearance. For if the nature of the good is in our power, neither envy +nor jealousy will have a place in us. But you yourself will not wish to +be a general or a senator or consul, but a free man, and there is only +one way to do this, to care not for the things which are not in our +power.'” + +“That,” said Mr. Stanley, “is exactly what I've always said, but I +didn't know it was in any book. I always said I didn't want to be a +senator or a legislator, or any other sort of office-holder. It's good +enough for me right here on this farm.” + +At that moment I glanced down into Ben's shining eyes. + +“But I want to be a senator or--something--when I grow up,” he said +eagerly. + +At this the older brother, who was sitting not far off, broke into a +laugh, and the boy, who for a moment had been drawn out of his reserve, +shrank back again and coloured to the hair. + +“Well, Ben,” said I, putting my hand on his knee, “don't you let +anything stop you. I'll back you up; I'll vote for you.” + +After breakfast the next morning Mr. Stanley drew me aside and said: + +“Now I want to pay you for your help yesterday and the day before.” + +“No,” I said. “I've had more than value received. You've taken me in +like a friend and brother. I've enjoyed it.” + +So Mrs. Stanley half filled my knapsack with the finest luncheon I've +seen in many a day, and thus, with as pleasant a farewell as if I'd +been a near relative, I set off up the country road. I was a little +distressed in parting to see nothing of the boy Ben, for I had formed a +genuine liking for him, but upon reaching a clump of trees which hid +the house from the road I saw him standing in the moist grass of a fence +corner. + +“I want to say good-bye,” he said in the gruff voice of embarrassment. + +“Ben,” I said, “I missed you, and I'd have hated to go off without +seeing you again. Walk a bit with me.” + +So we walked side by side, talking quietly and when at last I shook his +hand I said: + +“Ben, don't you ever be afraid of acting up to the very best thoughts +you have in your heart.” + +He said nothing for a moment, and then: “Gee! I'm sorry you're goin' +away!” + +“Gee!” I responded, “I'm sorry, too!” + +With that we both laughed, but when I reached the top of the hill, and +looked back, I saw him still standing there bare-footed in the road +looking after me. I waved my hand and he waved his: and I saw him no +more. + +No country, after all, produces any better crop than its inhabitants. +And as I travelled onward I liked to think of these brave, temperate, +industrious, God-friendly American people. I have no fear of the country +while so many of them are still to be found upon the farms and in the +towns of this land. + +So I tramped onward full of cheerfulness. The rain had ceased, but all +the world was moist and very green and still. I walked for more than +two hours with the greatest pleasure. About ten o'clock in the morning I +stopped near a brook to drink and rest, for I was warm and tired. And it +was then that I bethought me of the little tin pipe in my knapsack, and +straightway I got it out, and, sitting down at the foot of a tree near +the brook, I put it to my lips and felt for the stops with unaccustomed +fingers. At first I made the saddest sort of work of it, and was not a +little disappointed, indeed, with the sound of the whistle itself. It +was nothing to my memory of it! It seemed thin and tinny. + +However, I persevered at it, and soon produced a recognizable imitation +of Tom Madison's “Old Dan Tucker.” My success quite pleased me, and +I became so absorbed that I quite lost account of the time and place. +There was no one to hear me save a bluejay which for an hour or more +kept me company. He sat on a twig just across the brook, cocking his +head at me, and saucily wagging his tail. Occasionally he would dart off +among the trees crying shrilly; but his curiosity would always get the +better of him and back he would come again to try to solve the mystery +of this rival whistling, which I'm sure was as shrill and as harsh as +his own. + +Presently, quite to my astonishment, I saw a man standing near the +brookside not a dozen paces away from me. How long he had been there +I don't know, for I had heard nothing of his coming. Beyond him in the +town road I could see the head of his horse and the top of his buggy. I +said not a word, but continued with my practising. Why shouldn't I? But +it gave me quite a thrill for the moment; and at once I began to think +of the possibilities of the situation. What a thing it was have so many +unexpected and interesting situations developing! So I nodded my head +and tapped my foot, and blew into my whistle all the more energetically. +I knew my visitor could not possibly keep away. And he could not; +presently he came nearer and said: + +“What are you doing, neighbour?” + +I continued a moment with my playing, but commanded him with my eye. + +Oh, I assure you I assumed all the airs of a virtuoso. When I had +finished my tune I removed my whistle deliberately and wiped my lips. + +“Why, enjoying myself,” I replied with greatest good humour. “What are +you doing?” + +“Why,” he said, “watching you enjoy yourself. I heard you playing as I +passed in the road, and couldn't imagine what it could be.” + +I told him I thought it might still be difficult, having heard me near +at hand, to imagine what it could be--and thus, tossing the ball of +good-humoured repartee back and forth, we walked down to the road +together. He had a quiet old horse and a curious top buggy with the +unmistakable box of an agent or peddler built on behind. + +“My name,” he said, “is Canfield. I fight dust.” + +“And mine,” I said, “is Grayson. I whistle.” + +I discovered that he was an agent for brushes, and he opened his box +and showed me the greatest assortment of big and little brushes: bristle +brushes, broom brushes, yarn brushes, wire brushes, brushes for man and +brushes for beast, brushes of every conceivable size and shape that ever +I saw in all my life. He had out one of his especial pets--he called +it his “leader”--and feeling it familiarly in his hand he instinctively +began the jargon of well-handled and voice-worn phrases which went with +that particular brush. It was just as though some one had touched a +button and had started him going. It was amazing to me that any one +in the world should be so much interested in mere brushes--until he +actually began to make me feel that brushes were as interesting as +anything else! + +What a strange, little, dried-up old fellow he was, with his balls +of muttonchop sidewhiskers, his thick eyebrows, and his lively blue +eyes!--a man evidently not readily turned aside by rebuffs. He had +already shown that his wit as a talker had been sharpened by long +and varied contact with a world of reluctant purchasers. I was really +curious to know more of him, so I said finally: + +“See here, Mr. Canfield, it's just noon. Why not sit down here with me +and have a bit of luncheon?” + +“Why not?” he responded with alacrity. “As the fellow said, why not?” + +He unhitched his horse, gave him a drink from the brook, and then +tethered him where he could nip the roadside grass. I opened my bag and +explored the wonders of Mrs. Stanley's luncheon. I cannot describe the +absolutely carefree feeling I had. Always at home, when I would have +liked to stop at the roadside with a stranger, I felt the nudge of a +conscience troubled with cows and corn, but here I could stop where I +liked, or go on when I liked, and talk with whom I pleased, as long as I +pleased. + +So we sat there, the brush-peddler and I, under the trees, and ate +Mrs. Stanley's fine luncheon, drank the clear water from the brook, +and talked great talk. Compared with Mr. Canfield I was a babe at +wandering--and equally at talking. Was there any business he had not +been in, or any place in the country he had not visited? He had sold +everything from fly-paper to threshing-machines, he had picked up a +large working knowledge of the weaknesses of human nature, and had +arrived at the age of sixty-six with just enough available cash to pay +the manufacturer for a new supply of brushes. In strict confidence, I +drew certain conclusions from the colour of his nose! He had once had +a family, but dropped them somewhere along the road. Most of our brisk +neighbours would have put him down as a failure--an old man, and nothing +laid by! But I wonder--I wonder. One thing I am coming to learn in this +world, and that is to let people haggle along with their lives as I +haggle along with mine. + +We both made tremendous inroads on the luncheon, and I presume we might +have sat there talking all the afternoon if I had not suddenly bethought +myself with a not unpleasant thrill that my resting-place for the night +was still gloriously undecided. + +“Friend,” I said, “I've got to be up and going. I haven't so much as a +penny in my pocket, and I've got to find a place to sleep.” + +The effect of this remark upon Mr. Canfield was magical. He threw up +both his hands and cried out: + +“You're that way, are you?”--as though for the first time he really +understood. We were at last on common ground. + +“Partner,” said he, “you needn't tell nothin' about it. I've been right +there myself.” + +At once he began to bustle about with great enthusiasm. He was for +taking complete charge of me, and I think, if I had permitted it, would +instantly have made a brush-agent of me. At least he would have carried +me along with him in his buggy; but when he suggested it I felt very +much, I think, as some old monk must have who had taken a vow to do +some particular thing in some particular way. With great difficulty I +convinced him finally that my way was different from his--though he was +regally impartial as to what road he took next--and, finally, with some +reluctance, he started to climb into his buggy. + +A thought, however, struck him suddenly, and he stepped down again, ran +around to the box at the back of his buggy, opened it with a mysterious +and smiling look at me, and took out a small broom-brush with which he +instantly began brushing off my coat and trousers--in the liveliest and +most exuberant way. When he had finished this occupation, he quickly +handed the brush to me. + +“A token of esteem,” he said, “from a fellow traveller.” + +I tried in vain to thank him, but he held up his hand, scrambled quickly +into his buggy, and was for driving off instantly, but paused and +beckoned me toward him. When I approached the buggy, he took hold of one +the lapels of my coat, bent over, and said with the utmost seriousness: + +“No man ought to take the road without a brush. A good broom-brush is +the world's greatest civilizer. Are you looking seedy or dusty?--why, +this here brush will instantly make you a respectable citizen. Take my +word for it, friend, never go into any strange house without stoppin' +and brushin' off. It's money in your purse! You can get along without +dinner sometimes, or even without a shirt, but without a brush--never! +There's nothin' in the world so necessary to rich AN' poor, old AN' +young as a good brush!” + +And with a final burst of enthusiasm the brush-peddler drove off up the +hill. I stood watching him and when he turned around I waved the brush +high over my head in token of a grateful farewell. + +It was a good, serviceable, friendly brush. I carried it throughout my +wanderings; and as I sit here writing in my study, at this moment, I can +see it hanging on a hook at the side of my fireplace. + + + +CHAPTER III. THE HOUSE BY THE SIDE OF THE ROAD + +“Everyone,” remarks Tristram Shandy, “will speak of the fair as his own +market has gone in it.” + +It came near being a sorry fair for me on the afternoon following my +parting with the amiable brush-peddler. The plain fact is, my success +at the Stanleys', and the easy manner in which I had fallen in with Mr. +Canfield, gave me so much confidence in myself as a sort of Master of +the Road that I proceeded with altogether too much assurance. + +I am firmly convinced that the prime quality to be cultivated by the +pilgrim is humility of spirit; he must be willing to accept Adventure in +whatever garb she chooses to present herself. He must be able to see the +shining form of the unusual through the dull garments of the normal. + +The fact is, I walked that afternoon with my head in air and passed many +a pleasant farmstead where men were working in the fields, and many an +open doorway, and a mill or two, and a town--always looking for some +Great Adventure. + +Somewhere upon this road, I thought to myself, I shall fall in with a +Great Person, or become a part of a Great Incident. I recalled with keen +pleasure the experience of that young Spanish student of Carlyle +writes in one of his volumes, who, riding out from Madrid one day, came +unexpectedly upon the greatest man in the world. This great man, of whom +Carlyle observes (I have looked up the passage since I came home), “a +kindlier, meeker, braver heart has seldom looked upon the sky in this +world,” had ridden out from the city for the last time in his life “to +take one other look at the azure firmament and green mosaic pavements +and the strange carpentry and arras work of this noble palace of a +world.” + +As the old story has it, the young student “came pricking on hastily, +complaining that they went at such a pace as gave him little chance of +keeping up with them. One of the party made answer that the blame +lay with the horse of Don Miguel de Cervantes, whose trot was of the +speediest. He had hardly pronounced the name when the student dismounted +and, touching the hem of Cervantes' left sleeve, said, 'Yes, yes, it is +indeed the maimed perfection, the all-famous, the delightful writer, the +joy and darling of the Muses! You are that brave Miguel.'” + +It may seem absurd to some in this cool and calculating twentieth +century that any one should indulge in such vain imaginings as I have +described--and yet, why not? All things are as we see them. I once heard +a man--a modern man, living to-day--tell with a hush in his voice, and +a peculiar light in his eye, how, walking in the outskirts of an +unromantic town in New Jersey, he came suddenly upon a vigorous, +bearded, rather rough-looking man swinging his stick as he walked, and +stopping often at the roadside and often looking up at the sky. I shall +never forget the curious thrill in his voice as he said: + +“And THAT was Walt Whitman.” + +And thus quite absurdly intoxicated by the possibilities of the road, I +let the big full afternoon slip by--I let slip the rich possibilities +of half a hundred farms and scores of travelling people--and as evening +began to fall I came to a stretch of wilder country with wooded hills +and a dashing stream by the roadside. It was a fine and beautiful +country--to look at--but the farms, and with them the chances of dinner, +and a friendly place to sleep, grew momentarily scarcer. Upon the hills +here and there, indeed, were to be seen the pretentious summer homes +of rich dwellers from the cities, but I looked upon them with no great +hopefulness. + +“Of all places in the world,” I said to myself, “surely none could be +more unfriendly to a man like me.” + +But I amused myself with conjectures as to what might happen (until the +adventure seemed almost worth trying) if a dusty man with a bag on +his back should appear at the door of one of those well-groomed +establishments. It came to me, indeed, with a sudden deep sense of +understanding, that I should probably find there, as everywhere else, +just men and women. And with that I fell into a sort of Socratic +dialogue with myself: + +ME: Having decided that the people in these houses are, after all, +merely men and women, what is the best way of reaching them? + +MYSELF: Undoubtedly by giving them something they want and have not. + +ME: But these are rich people from the city; what can they want that +they have not? + +MYSELF: Believe me, of all people in the world those who want the +most are those who have the most. These people are also consumed with +desires. + +ME: And what, pray, do you suppose they desire? + +MYSELF: They want what they have not got; they want the unattainable: +they want chiefly the rarest and most precious of all things--a little +mystery in their lives. + +“That's it!” I said aloud; “that's it! Mystery--the things of the +spirit, the things above ordinary living--is not that the +essential thing for which the world is sighing, and groaning, and +longing--consciously, or unconsciously?” + +I have always believed that men in their innermost souls desire the +highest, bravest, finest things they can hear, or see, or feel in all +the world. Tell a man how he can increase his income and he will be +grateful to you and soon forget you; but show him the highest, most +mysterious things in his own soul and give him the word which will +convince him that the finest things are really attainable, and he will +love and follow you always. + +I now began to look with much excitement to a visit at one of the +houses on the hill, but to my disappointment I found the next two that +I approached still closed up, for the spring was not yet far enough +advanced to attract the owners to the country. I walked rapidly onward +through the gathering twilight, but with increasing uneasiness as to the +prospects for the night, and thus came suddenly upon the scene of an odd +adventure. + +From some distance I had seen a veritable palace set high among the +trees and overlooking a wonderful green valley--and, drawing nearer, +I saw evidences of well-kept roadways and a visible effort to make +invisible the attempt to preserve the wild beauty of the place. I saw, +or thought I saw, people on the wide veranda, and I was sure I heard the +snort of a climbing motor-car, but I had scarcely decided to make my way +up to the house when I came, at the turning of the country road, upon +a bit of open land laid out neatly as a garden, near the edge of which, +nestling among the trees, stood a small cottage. It seemed somehow +to belong to the great estate above it, and I concluded, at the first +glance, that it was the home of some caretaker or gardener. + +It was a charming place to see, and especially the plantation of trees +and shrubs. My eye fell instantly upon a fine magnolia--rare in this +country--which had not yet cast all its blossoms, and I paused for +a moment to look at it more closely. I myself have tried to raise +magnolias near my house, and I know how difficult it is. + +As I approached nearer to the cottage, I could see a man and woman +sitting on the porch in the twilight and swaying back and forth in +rocking-chairs. I fancied--it may have been only a fancy--that when I +first saw them their hands were clasped as they rocked side by side. + +It was indeed a charming little cottage. Crimson ramblers, giving +promise of the bloom that was yet to come, climbed over one end of the +porch, and there were fine dark-leaved lilac-bushes near the doorway: +oh, a pleasant, friendly, quiet place! + +I opened the front gate and walked straight in, as though I had at last +reached my destination. I cannot give any idea of the lift of the heart +with which I entered upon this new adventure. Without the premeditation +and not knowing what I should say or do, I realized that everything +depended upon a few sentences spoken within the next minute or two. +Believe me, this experience to a man who does not know where his next +meal is coming from, nor where he is to spend the night, is well worth +having. It is a marvellous sharpener of the facts. + +I knew, of course, just how these people of the cottage would ordinarily +regard an intruder whose bag and clothing must infallibly class him as a +follower of the road. And so many followers of the road are--well-- + +As I came nearer, the man and woman stopped rocking, but said nothing. +An old dog that had been sleeping on the top step rose slowly and stood +there. + +“As I passed your garden,” I said, grasping desperately for a way of +approach, “I saw your beautiful specimen of the magnolia tree--the one +still in blossom. I myself have tried to grow magnolias--but with +small success--and I'm making bold to inquire what variety you are so +successful with.” + +It was a shot in the air--but I knew from what I had seen that they must +be enthusiastic gardeners. The man glanced around at the magnolia with +evident pride, and was about to answer when the woman rose and with a +pleasant, quiet cordiality said: + +“Won't you step up and have a chair?” + +I swung my bag from my shoulder and took the proffered seat. As I did so +I saw, on the table just behind me a number magazines and books--books +of unusual sizes and shapes, indicating that they were not mere summer +novels. + +“They like books!” I said to myself, with a sudden rise of spirits. + +“I have tried magnolias, too,” said the man, “but this is the only one +that has been really successful. It is a Chinese white magnolia.” + +“The one Downing describes?” I asked. + +This was also a random shot, but I conjectured that if they loved both +books gardens they would know Downing--Bible of the gardener. And if +they did, we belonged to the same church. + +“The very same,” exclaimed the woman; “it was Downing's enthusiasm for +the Chinese magnolia which led us first to try it.” + +With that, like true disciples, we fell into great talk of Downing, +at first all in praise of him, and later--for may not the faithful be +permitted latitude in their comments so long as it is all within the +cloister?--we indulged in a bit of higher criticism. + +“It won't do,” said the man, “to follow too slavishly every detail of +practice as recommended by Downing. We have learned a good many things +since the forties.” + +“The fact is,” I said, “no literal-minded man should be trusted with +Downing.” + +“Any more than with the Holy Scriptures,” exclaimed the woman. + +“Exactly!” I responded with the greatest enthusiasm; “exactly! We go to +him for inspiration, for fundamental teachings, for the great literature +and poetry of the art. Do you remember,” I asked, “that passage in +which Downing quotes from some old Chinaman upon the true secret of the +pleasures of a garden--?” + +“Do we?” exclaimed the man, jumping up instantly; “do we? Just let me +get the book--” + +With that he went into the house and came back immediately bringing a +lamp in one hand--for it had grown pretty dark--and a familiar, portly, +blue-bound book in the other. While he was gone the woman said: + +“You have touched Mr. Vedder in his weakest spot.” + +“I know of no combination in this world,” said I, “so certain to produce +a happy heart as good books and a farm or garden.” + +Mr. Vedder, having returned, slipped on his spectacles, sat forward on +the edge of his rocking-chair, and opened the book with pious hands. + +“I'll find it,” he said. “I can put my finger right on it.” + +“You'll find it,” said Mrs. Vedder, “in the chapter on 'Hedges.'” + +“You are wrong, my dear,” he responded, “it is in 'Mistakes of Citizens +in Country Life.'” + + +He turned the leaves eagerly. + +“No,” he said, “here it is in 'Rural Taste.' Let me read you the +passage, Mr.--” + +“Grayson.” + +“--Mr. Grayson. The Chinaman's name was Lieu-tscheu. 'What is it,' asks +this old Chinaman, 'that we seek in the pleasure of a garden? It has +always been agreed that these plantations should make men amends +for living at a distance from what would be their more congenial +and agreeable dwelling-place--in the midst of nature, free and +unrestrained.'” + +“That's it,” I exclaimed, “and the old Chinaman was right! A garden +excuses civilization.” + +“It's what brought us here,” said Mrs. Vedder. + +With that we fell into the liveliest discussion of gardening and farming +and country life in all their phases, resolving that while there were +bugs and blights, and droughts and floods, yet upon the whole there was +no life so completely satisfying as life in which one may watch daily +the unfolding of natural life. + +A hundred things we talked about freely that had often risen dimly in +my own mind almost to the point--but not quite--of spilling over into +articulate form. The marvellous thing about good conversation is that +it brings to birth so many half-realized thoughts of our own--besides +sowing the seed of innumerable other thought-plants. How they enjoyed +their garden, those two, and not only the garden itself, but all the +lore and poetry of gardening! + +We had been talking thus an hour or more when, quite unexpectedly, I had +what was certainly one of the most amusing adventures of my whole life. +I can scarcely think of it now without a thrill of pleasure. I have had +pay for my work in many but never such a reward as this. + +“By the way,” said Mr. Vedder, “I have recently come across a book which +is full of the spirit of the garden as we have long known it, although +the author is not treating directly of gardens, but of farming and of +human nature.” + +“It is really all one subject,” I interrupted. + +“Certainly,” said Mr. Vedder, “but many gardeners are nothing but +gardeners. Well, the book to which I refer is called 'Adventures in +Contentment,' and is by--Why, a man of your own name!” + +With that Mr. Vedder reached for a book--a familiar-looking book--on the +table, but Mrs. Vedder looked at me. I give you my word, my heart turned +entirely over, and in a most remarkable way righted itself again; and I +saw Roman candles and Fourth of July rockets in front of my eyes. Never +in all my experience was I so completely bowled over. I felt like +a small boy who has been caught in the pantry with one hand in the +jam-pot--and plenty of jam on his nose. And like that small boy I +enjoyed the jam, but did not like being caught at it. + +Mr. Vedder had no sooner got the book in his hand than I saw Mrs. Vedder +rising as though she had seen a spectre, and pointing dramatically at +me, she exclaimed: + +“You are David Grayson!” + +I can say truthfully now that I know how the prisoner at the bar must +feel when the judge, leaning over his desk, looks at him sternly and +says: + +“I declare you guilty of the offence as charged, and sentence you--” and +so on, and so on. + +Mr. Vedder stiffened up, and I can see him yet looking at me through his +glasses. I must have looked as foolishly guilty as any man ever looked, +for Mr. Vedder said promptly: + +“Let me take you by the hand, sir. We know you, and have known you for a +long time.” + +I shall not attempt to relate the conversation which followed, nor tell +of the keen joy I had in it--after the first cold plunge. We found that +we had a thousand common interests and enthusiasms. I had to tell them +of my farm, and why I had left it temporarily, and of the experiences on +the road. No sooner had I related what had befallen me at the Stanleys' +than Mrs. Vedder disappeared into the house and came out again presently +with a tray loaded with cold meat, bread, a pitcher of fine milk, and +other good things. + +“I shall not offer any excuses,” said I, “I'm hungry,” and with that I +laid in, Mr. Vedder helping with the milk, and all three of us talking +as fast as ever we could. + +It was nearly midnight when at last Mr. Vedder led the way to the +immaculate little bedroom where I spent the night. + +The next morning I awoke early, and quietly dressing, slipped down +to the garden and walked about among the trees and the shrubs and the +flower-beds. The sun was just coming up over the hill, the air was +full of the fresh odours of morning, and the orioles and cat-birds were +singing. + +In the back of the garden I found a charming rustic arbour with seats +around a little table. And here I sat down to listen to the morning +concert, and I saw, cut or carved upon the table, this verse, which so +pleased me that I copied it in my book: + + A garden is a lovesome thing, God wot! + Rose plot, + Fringed pool, + Ferned grot-- + The veriest school of peace; and yet + the fool + Contends that God is not-- + Not God! in gardens? when the even + is cool? + Nay, but I have a sign, + 'Tis very sure God walks in mine. + +I looked about after copying this verse, and said aloud: + +“I like this garden: I like these Vedders.” + +And with that I had a moment of wild enthusiasm. + +“I will come,” I said, “and buy a little garden next them, and bring +Harriet, and we will live here always. What's a farm compared with a +friend?” + +But with that I thought of the Scotch preacher, and of Horace, and Mr. +and Mrs. Starkweather, and I knew I could never leave the friends at +home. + +“It's astonishing how many fine people there are in this world,” I said +aloud; “one can't escape them!” + +“Good morning, David Grayson,” I heard some one saying, and glancing up +I saw Mrs. Vedder at the doorway. “Are you hungry?” + +“I am always hungry,” I said. + +Mr. Vedder came out and linking his arm in mine and pointing out various +spireas and Japanese barberries, of which he was very proud, we walked +into the house together. + +I did not think of it especially at time--Harriet says I never see +anything really worth while, by which she means dishes, dresses, +doilies, and such like but as I remembered afterward the table that Mrs. +Vedder set was wonderfully dainty--dainty not merely with flowers (with +which it was loaded), but with the quality of the china and silver. It +was plainly the table of no ordinary gardener or caretaker--but this +conclusion did not come to me until afterward, for as I remember it, we +were in a deep discussion of fertilizers. + +Mrs. Vedder cooked and served breakfast herself, and did it with a skill +almost equal to Harriet's--so skillfully that the talk went on and we +never once heard the machinery of service. + +After breakfast we all went out into the garden, Mrs. Vedder in an +old straw hat and a big apron, and Mr. Vedder in a pair of old brown +overalls. Two men had appeared from somewhere, and were digging in the +vegetable garden. After giving them certain directions Mr. Vedder and +I both found five-tined forks and went into the rose garden and began +turning over the rich soil, while Mrs. Vedder, with pruning-shears, kept +near us, cutting out the dead wood. + +It was one of the charming forenoons of my life. This pleasant work, +spiced with the most interesting conversation and interrupted by a +hundred little excursions into other parts of the garden, to see this +or that wonder of vegetation, brought us to dinner-time before we fairly +knew it. + +About the middle of the afternoon I made the next discovery. I heard +first the choking cough of a big motor-car in the country road, and +a moment later it stopped at our gate. I thought I saw the Vedders +exchanging significant glances. A number of merry young people tumbled +out, and an especially pretty girl of about twenty came running through +the garden. + +“Mother,” she exclaimed, “you MUST come with us!” + +“I can't, I can't,” said Mrs. Vedder, “the roses MUST be pruned--and +see! The azaleas are coming into bloom.” + +With that she presented me to her daughter. + +And, then, shortly, for it could no longer be concealed, I learned that +Mr. and Mrs. Vedder were not the caretakers but the owners of the estate +and of the great house I had seen on the hill. That evening, with an air +almost of apology, they explained to me how it all came about. + +“We first came out here,” said Mrs. Vedder, “nearly twenty years ago, +and built the big house on the hill. But the more we came to know +of country life the more we wanted to get down into it. We found it +impossible up there--so many unnecessary things to see to and care +for--and we couldn't--we didn't see--” + +“The fact is,” Mr. Vedder put in, “we were losing touch with each +other.” + +“There is nothing like a big house,” said Mrs. Vedder, “to separate a +man and his wife.” + +“So we came down here,” said Mr. Vedder, “built this little cottage, and +developed this garden mostly with our own hands. We would have sold the +big house long ago if it hadn't been for our friends. They like it.” + +“I have never heard a more truly romantic story,” said I. + +And it WAS romantic: these fine people escaping from too many +possessions, too much property, to the peace and quietude of a garden +where they could be lovers again. + +“It seems, sometimes,” said Mrs. Vedder, “that I never really believed +in God until we came down here--” + +“I saw the verse on the table in the arbour,” said I. + +“And it is true,” said Mr. Vedder. “We got a long, long way from God for +many years: here we seem to get back to Him.” + +I had fully intended to take the road again that afternoon, but how +could any one leave such people as those? We talked again late that +night, but the next morning, at the leisurely Sunday breakfast, I set +my hour of departure with all the firmness I could command. I left +them, indeed, before ten o'clock that forenoon. I shall never forget +the parting. They walked with me to the top of the hill, and there we +stopped and looked back. We could see the cottage half hidden among the +trees, and the little opening that the precious garden made. For a time +we stood there quite silent. + +“Do you remember,” I said presently, “that character in Homer who was +a friend of men and lived in a house by the side of the road? I shall +always think of you as friends of men--you took in a dusty traveller. +And I shall never forget your house by the side of the road.” + +“The House by the Side of the Road--you have christened it anew, David +Grayson,” exclaimed Mrs. Vedder. + +And so we parted like old friends, and I left them to return to their +garden, where “'tis very sure God walks.” + + + +CHAPTER IV. I AM THE SPECTATOR OF A MIGHTY BATTLE, IN WHICH CHRISTIAN +MEETS APPOLLYON + +It is one of the prime joys of the long road that no two days are ever +remotely alike--no two hours even; and sometimes a day that begins +calmly will end with the most stirring events. + +It was thus, indeed, with that perfect spring Sunday, when I left my +friends, the Vedders, and turned my face again to the open country. It +began as quietly as any Sabbath morning of my life, but what an end it +had! I would have travelled a thousand miles for the adventures which a +bounteous road that day spilled carelessly into my willing hands. + +I can give no adequate reason why it should be so, but there are Sunday +mornings in the spring--at least in our country--which seem to put on, +like a Sabbath garment, an atmosphere of divine quietude. Warm, soft, +clear, but, above all, immeasurably serene. + +Such was that Sunday morning; and I was no sooner well afoot than I +yielded to the ingratiating mood of the day. Usually I am an active +walker, loving the sense of quick motion and the stir it imparts to both +body and mind, but that morning I found myself loitering, looking widely +about me, and enjoying the lesser and quieter aspects of nature. It was +a fine wooded country in which I found myself, and I soon struck off the +beaten road and took to the forest and the fields. In places the ground +was almost covered with meadow-rue, like green shadows on the hillsides, +not yet in seed, but richly umbrageous. In the long green grass of the +meadows shone the yellow star-flowers, and the sweet-flags were blooming +along the marshy edges of the ponds. The violets had disappeared, but +they were succeeded by wild geraniums and rank-growing vetches. + +I remember that I kept thinking from time to time, all the forenoon, as +my mind went back swiftly and warmly to the two fine friends from whom I +had so recently parted: + +How the Vedders would enjoy this! Or, I must tell the Vedders that. And +two or three times I found myself in animated conversations with them +in which I generously supplied all three parts. It may be true for some +natures, as Leonardo said, that “if you are alone you belong wholly to +yourself; if you have a companion, you belong only half to yourself”; +but it is certainly not so with me. With me friendship never divides: it +multiplies. A friend always makes me more than I am, better than I am, +bigger than I am. We two make four, or fifteen, or forty. + +Well, I loitered through the fields and woods for a long time that +Sunday forenoon, not knowing in the least that Chance held me close +by the hand and was leading me onward to great events. I knew, of +course, that I had yet to find a place for the night, and that this might +be difficult on Sunday, and yet I spent that forenoon as a man spends +his immortal youth--with a glorious disregard for the future. + + +Some time after noon--for the sun was high and the day was growing much +warmer--I turned from the road, climbed an inviting little hill, and +chose a spot in an old meadow in the shade of an apple tree and there +I lay down on the grass, and looked up into the dusky shadows of the +branches above me. I could feel the soft airs on my face; I could hear +the buzzing of bees in the meadow flowers, and by turning my head just a +little I could see the slow fleecy clouds, high up, drifting across the +perfect blue of the sky. And the scent of the fields in spring!--he who +has known it, even once, may indeed die happy. + +Men worship God in various ways: it seemed to me that Sabbath morning, +as I lay quietly there in the warm silence of midday, that I was truly +worshipping God. That Sunday morning everything about me seemed somehow +to be a miracle--a miracle gratefully accepted and explainable only by +the presence of God. There was another strange, deep feeling which I had +that morning, which I have had a few other times in my life at the rare +heights of experience--I hesitate always when I try to put down the +deep, deep things of the human heart--a feeling immeasurably real, +that if I should turn my head quickly I should indeed SEE that Immanent +Presence.... + +One of the few birds I know that sings through the long midday is the +vireo. The vireo sings when otherwise the woods are still. You do not +see him; you cannot find him; but you know he is there. And his singing +is wild, and shy, and mystical. Often it haunts you like the memory of +some former happiness. That day I heard the vireo singing.... + +I don't know how long I lay there under the tree in the meadow, but +presently I heard, from no great distance, the sound of a church-bell. +It was ringing for the afternoon service which among the farmers of this +part of the country often takes the place, in summer, of both morning +and evening services. + +“I believe I'll go,” I said, thinking first of all, I confess, of the +interesting people I might meet there. + +But when I sat up and looked about me the desire faded, and rummaging +in my bag I came across my tin whistle. Immediately I began practising +a tune called “Sweet Afton,” which I had learned when a boy; and, as +I played, my mood changed swiftly, and I began to smile at myself as +a tragically serious person, and to think of pat phrases with which to +characterize the execrableness of my attempts upon the tin whistle. I +should have liked some one near to joke with. + +Long ago I made a motto about boys: Look for a boy anywhere. Never be +surprised when you shake a cherry tree if a boy drops out of it; +never be disturbed when you think yourself in complete solitude if you +discover a boy peering out at you from a fence corner. + +I had not been playing long before I saw two boys looking at me from out +of a thicket by the roadside; and a moment later two others appeared. + +Instantly I switched into “Marching Through Georgia,” and began to +nod my head and tap my toe in the liveliest fashion. Presently one boy +climbed up on the fence, then another, then a third. I continued to +play. The fourth boy, a little chap, ventured to climb up on the fence. + +They were bright-faced, tow-headed lads, all in Sunday clothes. + +“It's hard luck,” said I, taking my whistle from my lips, “to have to +wear shoes and stockings on a warm Sunday like this.” + +“You bet it is!” said the bold leader. + +“In that case,” said I, “I will play 'Yankee Doodle.'” + +I played. All the boys, including the little chap, came up around me, +and two of them sat down quite familiarly on the grass. I never had a +more devoted audience. I don't know what interesting event might have +happened next, for the bold leader, who stood nearest, was becoming +dangerously inflated with questions--I don't know what might have +happened had we not been interrupted by the appearance of a Spectre in +Black. It appeared before us there in the broad daylight in the middle +of a sunny afternoon while we were playing “Yankee Doodle.” First I +saw the top of a black hat rising over the rim of the hill. This was +followed quickly by a black tie, a long black coat, black trousers, and, +finally, black shoes. I admit I was shaken, but being a person of iron +nerve in facing such phenomena, I continued to play “Yankee Doodle.” + In spite of this counter-attraction, toward which all four boys turned +uneasy glances, I held my audience. The Black Spectre, with a black book +under its arm, drew nearer. Still I continued to play and nod my head +and tap my toe. I felt like some modern Pied Piper piping away the +children of these modern hills--piping them away from older people who +could not understand them. + +I could see an accusing look on the Spectre's face. I don't know what +put it into my head, and I had no sooner said it than I was sorry for my +levity, but the figure with the sad garments there in the matchless and +triumphant spring day affected me with a curious, sharp impatience. Had +any one the right to look out so dolefully upon such a day and such a +scene of simple happiness as this? So I took my whistle from my lips and +asked: + +“Is God dead?” + +I shall never forget the indescribable look of horror and astonishment +that swept over the young man's face. + +“What do you mean, sir?” he asked with an air of stern authority which +surprised me. His calling for the moment lifted him above himself: it +was the Church which spoke. + +I was on my feet in an instant, regretting the pain I had given him; +and yet it seemed worth while now, having made my inadvertent remark, to +show him frankly what lay in my mind. Such things sometimes help men. + +“I meant no offence, sir,” I said, “and I apologize for my flummery, but +when I saw you coming up the hill, looking so gloomy and disconsolate on +this bright day, as though you disapproved of God's world, the question +slipped out before I knew it.” + +My words evidently struck deep down into some disturbed inner +consciousness, for he asked--and his words seemed to slip out before he +thought: + +“Is THAT the way I impressed you?” + +I found my heart going out strongly toward him. “Here,” I thought to +myself, “is a man in trouble.” + +I took a good long look at him. He still a young man, though +worn-looking--and sad as I now saw it, rather than gloomy--with the +sensitive lips and the unworldly look one sees sometimes in the faces of +saints. His black coat was immaculately neat, but the worn button-covers +and the shiny lapels told their own eloquent story. Oh, it seemed to me +I knew him as well as if every incident of his life were written +plainly upon his high, pale forehead! I have lived long in a country +neighbourhood, and I knew him--poor flagellant of the rural church--I +knew how he groaned under the sins of a Community too comfortably +willing to cast all its burdens on the Lord, or on the Lord's accredited +local representative. I inferred also the usual large family and the low +salary (scandalously unpaid) and the frequent moves from place to place. + +Unconsciously heaving a sigh the young man turned partly aside and said +to me in a low, gentle voice: + +“You are detaining my boys from church.” + +“I am very sorry,” I said, “and I will detain them no longer,” and with +that I put aside my whistle, took up my bag and moved down the hill with +them. + +“The fact is,” I said, “when I heard your bell I thought of going to +church myself.” + +“Did you?” he asked eagerly. “Did you?” + +I could see that my proposal of going to church had instantly affected +his spirits. Then he hesitated abruptly with a sidelong glance at my bag +and rusty clothing. I could see exactly what was passing in his mind. + +“No,” I said, smiling, as though answering a spoken question, “I am not +exactly what you would call a tramp.” + +He flushed. + +“I didn't mean--I WANT you to come. That's what a church is for. If I +thought--” + +But he did not tell me what he thought; and, though he walked quietly +at my side, he was evidently deeply disturbed. Something of his +discouragement I sensed even then, and I don't think I was ever sorrier +for a man in my life than I was for him at that moment. Talk about the +suffering sinners! I wonder if they are to be compared with the trials +of the saints? + +So we approached the little white church, and caused, I am certain, +a tremendous sensation. Nowhere does the unpredictable, the unusual, +excite such confusion as in that settled institution--the church. + +I left my bag in the vestibule, where I have no doubt it was the object +of much inquiring and suspicious scrutiny, and took my place in a +convenient pew. It was a small church with an odd air of domesticity, +and the proportion of old ladies and children in the audience was +pathetically large. As a ruddy, vigorous, out-of-door person, with the +dust of life upon him, I felt distinctly out of place. + +I could pick out easily the Deacon, the Old Lady Who Brought Flowers, +the President of the Sewing Circle, and, above all, the Chief Pharisee, +sitting in his high place. The Chief Pharisee--his name I learned was +Nash, Mr. J. H. Nash (I did not know then that I was soon to make his +acquaintance)--the Chief Pharisee looked as hard as nails, a middle-aged +man with stiff chin-whiskers, small round, sharp eyes, and a pugnacious +jaw. + +“That man,” said I to myself, “runs this church,” and instantly I found +myself looking upon him as a sort of personification of the troubles I +had seen in the minister's eyes. + +I shall not attempt to describe the service in detail. There was a +discouraging droop and quaver in the singing, and the mournful-looking +deacon who passed the collection-plate seemed inured to disappointment. +The prayer had in it a note of despairing appeal which fell like a cold +hand upon one's living soul. It gave one the impression that this +was indeed a miserable, dark, despairing world, which deserved to be +wrathfully destroyed, and that this miserable world was full of equally +miserable, broken, sinful, sickly people. + +The sermon was a little better, for somewhere hidden within him this +pale young man had a spark of the divine fire, but it was so dampened by +the atmosphere of the church that it never rose above a pale luminosity. + +I found the service indescribably depressing. I had an impulse to rise +up and cry out--almost anything to shock these people into opening their +eyes upon real life. Indeed, though I hesitate about setting it down +here, I was filled for some time with the liveliest imaginings of the +following serio-comic enterprise: + +I would step up the aisle, take my place in front of the Chief Pharisee, +wag my finger under his nose, and tell him a thing or two about the +condition of the church. + +“The only live thing here,” I would tell him, “is the spark in that pale +minister's soul; and you're doing your best to smother that.” + +And I fully made up my mind that when he answered back in his +chief-pharisaical way I would gently--but firmly remove him from his +seat, shake him vigorously two or three times (men's souls have often +been saved with less!), deposit him flat in the aisle, and yes--stand on +him while I elucidated the situation to the audience at large. While +I confined this amusing and interesting project to the humours of the +imagination I am still convinced that something of the sort would have +helped enormously in clearing up the religious and moral atmosphere of +the place. + +I had a wonderful sensation of relief when at last I stepped out again +into the clear afternoon sunshine and got a reviving glimpse of the +smiling green hills and the quiet fields and the sincere trees--and felt +the welcome of the friendly road. + +I would have made straight for the hills, but the thought of that pale +minister held me back; and I waited quietly there under the trees till +he came out. He was plainly looking for me, and asked me to wait and +walk along with him, at which his four boys, whose acquaintance I had +made under such thrilling circumstances earlier in the day, seemed +highly delighted, and waited with me under the tree and told me a +hundred important things about a certain calf, a pig, a kite, and other +things at home. + +Arriving at the minister's gate, I was invited in with a +whole-heartedness that was altogether charming. The minister's wife, +a faded-looking woman who had once possessed a delicate sort of +prettiness, was waiting for us on the steps with a fine chubby baby on +her arm--number five. + +The home was much the sort of place I had imagined--a small house +undesirably located (but cheap!), with a few straggling acres of +garden and meadow upon which the minister and his boys were trying with +inexperienced hands to piece out their inadequate living. At the very +first glimpse of the garden I wanted to throw off my coat and go at it. + +And yet--and yet----what a wonderful thing love is! There was, after +all, something incalculable, something pervasively beautiful about this +poor household. The moment the minister stepped inside his own door he +became a different and livelier person. Something boyish crept into his +manner, and a new look came into the eyes of his faded wife that made +her almost pretty again. And the fat, comfortable baby rolled and +gurgled about on the floor as happily as though there had been two +nurses and a governess to look after him. As for the four boys, I have +never seen healthier or happier ones. + +I sat with them at their Sunday-evening luncheon. As the minister bowed +his head to say grace I felt him clasp my hand on one side while the +oldest boy clasped my hand on the other, and thus, linked together, and +accepting the stranger utterly, the family looked up to God. + +There was a fine, modest gayety about the meal. In front of Mrs. +Minister stood a very large yellow bowl filled with what she called +rusk--a preparation unfamiliar to me, made by browning and crushing the +crusts of bread and then rolling them down into a coarse meal. A bowl of +this, with sweet, rich, yellow milk (for they kept their own cow), made +one of the most appetizing dishes that ever I ate. It was downright +good: it gave one the unalloyed aroma of the sweet new milk and the +satisfying taste of the crisp bread. + +Nor have I ever enjoyed a more perfect hospitality. I have been in +many a richer home where there was not a hundredth part of the true +gentility--the gentility of unapologizing simplicity and kindness. + +And after it was over and cleared away--the minister himself donning a +long apron and helping his wife--and the chubby baby put to bed, we all +sat around the table in the gathering twilight. + +I think men perish sometimes from sheer untalked talk. For lack of +a creative listener they gradually fill up with unexpressed emotion. +Presently this emotion begins to ferment, and finally--bang!--they blow +up, burst, disappear in thin air. In all that community I suppose there +was no one but the little faded wife to whom the minister dared open his +heart, and I think he found me a godsend. All I really did was to look +from one to the other and put in here and there an inciting comment or +ask an understanding question. After he had told me his situation and +the difficulties which confronted him and his small church, he exclaimed +suddenly: + +“A minister should by rights be a leader, not only inside of his church, +but outside it in the community.” + +“You are right,” I exclaimed with great earnestness; “you are right.” + +And with that I told him of our own Scotch preacher and how he led and +moulded our community; and as I talked I could see him actually growing, +unfolding, under my eyes. + +“Why,” said I, “you not only ought to be the moral leader of this +community, but you are!” + +“That's what I tell him,” exclaimed his wife. + +“But he persists in thinking, doesn't he, that he is a poor sinner?” + +“He thinks it too much,” she laughed. + +“Yes, yes,” he said, as much to himself as to us, “a minister ought to +be a fighter!” + +It was beautiful, the boyish flush which now came into his face and the +light that came into his eyes. I should never have identified him with +the Black Spectre of the afternoon. + +“Why,” said I, “you ARE a fighter; you're fighting the greatest battle +in the world today--the only real battle--the battle for the spiritual +view of life.” + +Oh, I knew exactly what was the trouble with his religion--at least the +religion which, under the pressure of that church he felt obliged to +preach! It was the old, groaning, denying, resisting religion. It was +the sort of religion which sets a man apart and assures him that the +entire universe in the guise of the Powers of Darkness is leagued +against him. What he needed was a reviving draught of the new faith +which affirms, accepts, rejoices, which feels the universe triumphantly +behind it. And so whenever the minister told me what he ought to be--for +he too sensed the new impulse--I merely told him he was just that. He +needed only this little encouragement to unfold. + +“Yes,” said he again, “I am the real moral leader here.” + +At this I saw Mrs. Minister nodding her head vigorously. + +“It's you,” she said, “and not Mr. Nash, who should lead this +community.” + +How a woman loves concrete applications. She is your only true +pragmatist. If a philosophy will not work, says she, why bother with it? + +The minister rose quickly from his chair, threw back his head, and +strode quickly up and down the room. + +“You are right,” said he; “and I WILL lead it. I'll have my farmers' +meetings as I planned.” + +It may have been the effect of the lamplight, but it seemed to me that +little Mrs. Minister, as she glanced up at him, looked actually pretty. + +The minister continued to stride up and down the room with his chin in +the air. + +“Mr. Nash,” said she in a low voice to me, “is always trying to hold +him down and keep him back. My husband WANTS to do the great +things”--wistfully. + +“By every right,” the minister was repeating, quite oblivious of our +presence, “I should lead these people.” + +“He sees the weakness of the church,” she continued, “as well as +any one, and he wants to start some vigorous community work--have +agricultural meetings and boys' clubs, and lots of things like that--but +Mr. Nash says it is no part of a minister's work: that it cheapens +religion. He says that when a parson--Mr. Nash always calls him parson, +and I just LOATHE that name--has preached, and prayed, and visited the +sick, that's enough for HIM.” + +At this very moment a step sounded upon the walk, and an instant later a +figure appeared in the doorway. + +“Why, Mr. Nash,” exclaimed little Mrs. Minister, exhibiting that +astonishing gift of swift recovery which is the possession of even the +simplest women, “come right in.” + +It was some seconds before the minister could come down from the heights +and greet Mr. Nash. As for me, I was never more interested in my life. + +“Now,” said I to myself, “we shall see Christian meet Apollyon.” + +As soon as Mrs. Minister lighted the lamp I was introduced to the great +man. He looked at me sharply with his small, round eyes, and said: + +“Oh, you are the--the man who was in church this afternoon.” + +I admitted it, and he looked around at the minister with an accusing +expression. He evidently did not approve of me, nor could I wholly blame +him, for I knew well how he, as a rich farmer, must look upon a rusty +man of the road like me. I should have liked dearly to cross swords with +him myself, but greater events were imminent. + +In no time at all the discussion, which had evidently been broken off at +some previous meeting, concerning the proposed farmers' assembly at the +church, had taken on a really lively tone. Mr. Nash was evidently in +the somewhat irritable mood with which important people may sometimes +indulge themselves, for he bit off his words in a way that was +calculated to make any but an unusually meek and saintly man exceedingly +uncomfortable. But the minister, with the fine, high humility of those +whose passion is for great or true things, was quite oblivious to the +harsh words. Borne along by an irresistible enthusiasm, he told in +glowing terms what his plan would mean to the community, how the +people needed a new social and civic spirit--a “neighbourhood religious +feeling” he called it. And as he talked his face flushed, and his eyes +shone with the pure fire of a great purpose. But I could see that all +this enthusiasm impressed the practical Mr. Nash as mere moonshine. +He grew more and more uneasy. Finally he brought his hand down with a +resounding thwack upon his knee, and said in a high, cutting voice: + +“I don't believe in any such newfangled nonsense. It ain't none of a +parson's business what the community does. You're hired, ain't you, an' +paid to run the church? That's the end of it. We ain't goin' to have any +mixin' of religion an' farmin' in THIS neighbourhood.” + +My eyes were on the pale man of God. I felt as though a human soul were +being weighed in the balance. What would he do now? What was he worth +REALLY as a man as well as a minister? + +He paused a moment with downcast eyes. I saw little Mrs. Minister glance +at him--once--wistfully. He rose from his place, drew himself up to his +full height--I shall not soon forget the look on his face--and uttered +these amazing words: + +“Martha, bring the ginger-jar.” + +Mrs. Minister, without a word, went to a little cupboard on the farther +side of the room and took down a brown earthenware jar, which she +brought over and placed on the table, Mr. Nash following her movements +with astonished eyes. No one spoke. + +The minister took the jar in his hands as he might the communion-cup +just before saying the prayer of the sacrament. + +“Mr. Nash,” said he in a loud voice, “I've decided to hold that farmers' +meeting.” + +Before Mr. Nash could reply the minister seated himself and was pouring +out the contents of the jar upon the table--a clatter of dimes, nickels, +pennies, a few quarters and half dollars, and a very few bills. + +“Martha, just how much money is there?” + +“Twenty-four dollars and sixteen cents.” + +The minister put his hand into his pocket and, after counting out +certain coins, said: + +“Here's one dollar and eighty-four cents more. That makes twenty-six +dollars. Now, Mr. Nash, you're the largest contributor to my salary in +this neighbourhood. You gave twenty-six dollars last year--fifty cents a +week. It is a generous contribution, but I cannot take it any longer. +It is fortunate that my wife has saved up this money to buy a +sewing-machine, so that we can pay back your contribution in full.” + +He paused; no one of us spoke a word. + +“Mr. Nash,” he continued, and his face was good to see, “I am the +minister here. I am convinced that what the community needs is more of a +religious and social spirit, and I am going about getting it in the way +the Lord leads me.” + +At this I saw Mrs. Minister look up at her husband with such a light in +her eyes as any man might well barter his life for--I could not keep my +own eyes from pure beauty of it. + +I knew too what this defiance meant. It meant that this little family +was placing its all upon the altar--even the pitiful coins for which +they had skimped and saved for months for a particular purpose. Talk of +the heroism of the men who charged with Pickett at Gettysburg! Here was +a courage higher and whiter than that; here was a courage that dared to +fight alone. + +As for Mr. Nash, the face of that Chief Pharisee was a study. Nothing is +so paralyzing to a rich man as to find suddenly that his money will +no longer command him any advantage. Like all hard-shelled, practical +people, Mr. Nash could only dominate in a world which recognized the +same material supremacy that he recognized. Any one who insisted upon +flying was lost to Mr. Nash. + +The minister pushed the little pile of coins toward him. + +“Take it, Mr. Nash,” said he. + +At that Mr. Nash rose hastily. + +“I will not,” he said gruffly. + +He paused, and looked at the minister with a strange expression in his +small round eyes--was it anger, or was it fear, or could it have been +admiration? + +“If you want to waste your time on fiddlin' farmers' meetings--a man +that knows as little of farmin' as you do--why go ahead for all o' me. +But don't count me in.” + +He turned, reached for his hat, and then went out of the door into the +darkness. + +For a moment we all sat perfectly silent, then the minister rose, and +said solemnly: + +“Martha, let's sing something.” + +Martha crossed the room to the cottage organ and seated herself on the +stool. + +“What shall we sing?” said she. + +“Something with fight in it, Martha,” he responded; “something with +plenty of fight in it.” + +So we sang “Onward, Christian Soldier, Marching as to War,” and followed +up with: + +Awake, my soul, stretch every nerve And press with rigour on; A heavenly +race demands thy zeal And an immortal crown. + + +When we had finished, and as Martha rose from her seat, the minister +impulsively put his hands on her shoulders, and said: + +“Martha, this is the greatest night of my life.” + +He took a turn up and down the room, and then with an exultant boyish +laugh said: + +“We'll go to town to-morrow and pick out that sewing-machine!” + + +I remained with them that night and part of the following day, taking +a hand with them in the garden, but of the events of that day I shall +speak in another chapter. + + + +CHAPTER V. I PLAY THE PART OF A SPECTACLE PEDDLER + +Yesterday was exactly the sort of a day I love best--a spicy, +unexpected, amusing day--crowned with a droll adventure. + +I cannot account for it, but it seems to me I take the road each morning +with a livelier mind and keener curiosity. If you were to watch me +narrowly these days you would see I am slowly shedding my years. I +suspect that some one of the clear hill streams from which I have been +drinking (lying prone on my face) was in reality the fountain of eternal +youth. I shall not go back to see. + +It seems to me, when I feel like this, that in every least thing upon +the roadside, or upon the hill, lurks the stuff of adventure. What a +world it is! A mile south of here I shall find all that Stanley found in +the jungles of Africa; a mile north I am Peary at the Pole! + +You there, brown-clad farmer on the tall seat of your wagon, driving +townward with a red heifer for sale, I can show you that life--your +life--is not all a gray smudge, as you think it is, but crammed, packed, +loaded with miraculous things. I can show you wonders past belief in +your own soul. I can easily convince you that you are in reality a poet, +a hero, a true lover, a saint. + +It is because we are not humble enough in the presence of the divine +daily fact that adventure knocks so rarely at our door. A thousand times +I have had to learn this truth (what lesson so hard to learn as the +lesson of humility!) and I suppose I shall have to learn it a thousand +times more. This very day, straining my eyes to see the distant wonders +of the mountains, I nearly missed a miracle by the roadside. + +Soon after leaving the minister and his family--I worked with them in +their garden with great delight most of the forenoon--I came, within a +mile--to the wide white turnpike--the Great Road. + +Now, I usually prefer the little roads, the little, unexpected, curving, +leisurely country roads. The sharp hills, the pleasant deep valleys, the +bridges not too well kept, the verdure deep grown along old fences, the +houses opening hospitably at the very roadside, all these things I love. +They come to me with the same sort of charm and flavour, only vastly +magnified, which I find often in the essays of the older writers--those +leisurely old fellows who took time to write, REALLY write. The +important thing to me about a road, as about life--and literature, is +not that it goes anywhere, but that it is livable while it goes. For +if I were to arrive--and who knows that I ever shall arrive?--I think I +should be no happier than I am here. + +Thus I have commonly avoided the Great White Road--the broad, smooth +turnpike--rock-bottomed and rolled by a State--without so much as a +loitering curve to whet one's curiosity, nor a thank-you-ma'am to laugh +over, nor a sinful hill to test your endurance--not so much as a dreamy +valley! It pursues its hard, unshaded, practical way directly from some +particular place to some other particular place and from time to time a +motor-car shoots in at one end of it and out at the other, leaving its +dust to settle upon quiet travellers like me. + +Thus to-day when I came to the turnpike I was at first for making +straight across it and taking to the hills beyond, but at that very +moment a motor-car whirled past me as I stood there and a girl with a +merry face waved her hand at me. I lifted my hat in return--and as +I watched them out of sight I felt a curious new sense of warmth and +friendliness there in the Great Road. + +“These are just people, too,” I said aloud--“and maybe they really like +it!” + +And with that I began laughing at myself, and at the whole, big, +amazing, interesting world. Here was I pitying them for their benighted +state, and there were they, no doubt, pitying me for mine! + +And with that pleasant and satisfactory thought in my mind and a song in +my throat I swung into the Great Road. + +“It doesn't matter in the least,” said I to myself, “whether a man takes +hold of life by the great road or the little ones so long as he takes +hold.” + +And oh, it was a wonderful day! A day with movement in it; a day that +flowed! In every field the farmers were at work, the cattle fed widely +in the meadows, and the Great Road itself was alive with a hundred +varied sorts of activity. Light winds stirred the tree-tops and rippled +in the new grass; and from the thickets I heard the blackbirds crying. +Everything animate and inanimate, that morning, seemed to have its +own clear voice and to cry out at me for my interest, or curiosity, or +sympathy. Under such circumstances it could not have been long--nor +was it long--before I came plump upon the first of a series of odd +adventures. + + +A great many people, I know, abominate the roadside sign. It seems to +them a desecration of nature, the intrusion of rude commercialism upon +the perfection of natural beauty. But not I. I have no such feeling. +Oh, the signs in themselves are often rude and unbeautiful, and I +never wished my own barn or fences to sing the praises of swamp root or +sarsaparilla--and yet there is something wonderfully human about these +painted and pasted vociferations of the roadside signs; and I don't +know why they are less “natural” in their way than a house or barn or +a planted field of corn. They also tell us about life. How eagerly they +cry out at us, “Buy me, buy me!” What enthusiasm they have in their +own concerns, what boundless faith in themselves! How they speak of the +enormous energy, activity, resourcefulness of human kind! + +Indeed, I like all kinds of signs. The autocratic warnings of the road, +the musts and the must-nots of traffic, I observe in passing; and I +often stand long at the crossings and look up at the finger-posts, and +consider my limitless wealth as a traveller. By this road I may, at my +own pleasure, reach the Great City; by that--who knows?--the far wonders +of Cathay. And I respond always to the appeal which the devoted pilgrim +paints on the rocks at the roadside: “Repent ye, for the kingdom of God +is at hand,” and though I am certain that the kingdom of God is already +here, I stop always and repent--just a little--knowing that there is +always room for it. At the entrance of the little towns, also, or in +the squares of the villages, I stop often to read the signs of taxes +assessed, or of political meetings; I see the evidences of homes broken +up in the notices of auction sales, and of families bereaved in the dry +and formal publications of the probate court. I pause, too, before +the signs of amusements flaming red and yellow on the barns (boys, the +circus is coming to town!), and I pause also, but no longer, to read +the silent signs carved in stone in the little cemeteries as I pass. +Symbols, you say? Why, they're the very stuff of life. If you cannot see +life here in the wide road, you will never see it at all. + +Well, I saw a sign yesterday at the roadside that I never saw anywhere +before. It was not a large sign--indeed rather inconspicuous--consisting +of a single word rather crudely painted in black (as by an amateur) upon +a white board. It was nailed to a tree where those in swift passing cars +could not avoid seeing it: + +[ REST ] + +I cannot describe the odd sense of enlivenment, of pleasure I had when I +saw this new sign. + +“Rest!” I exclaimed aloud. “Indeed I will,” and I sat down on a stone +not far away. + +“Rest!” + +What a sign for this very spot! Here in the midst of the haste and +hurry of the Great Road a quiet voice was saying, “Rest.” Some one with +imagination, I thought, evidently put that up; some quietist offering +this mild protest against the breathless progress of the age. How often +I have felt the same way myself--as though I were being swept onward +through life faster than I could well enjoy it. For nature passes the +dishes far more rapidly than we can help ourselves. + +Or perhaps, thought I, eagerly speculating, this may be only some +cunning advertiser with rest for sale (in these days even rest has its +price), thus piquing the curiosity of the traveller for the disclosure +which he will make a mile or so farther on. Or else some humourist +wasting his wit upon the Fraternity of the Road, too willing (like me, +perhaps) to accept his ironical advice. But it would be well worth while +should I find him, to see him chuckle behind his hand. + +So I sat there very much interested, for a long time, even framing a +rather amusing picture in my own mind of the sort of person who painted +these signs, deciding finally that he must be a zealot rather than a +trader or humourist. (Confidentially, I could not make a picture of +him in which he was not endowed with plentiful long hair). As I walked +onward again, I decided that in any guise I should like to see him, and +I enjoyed thinking what I should say if I met him. A mile farther up the +road I saw another sign exactly like the first. + +“Here he is again,” I said exultantly, and that sign being somewhat +nearer the ground I was able to examine it carefully front and back, but +it bore no evidence of its origin. + +In the next few miles I saw two other signs with nothing on them but the +word “Rest.” + +Now this excellent admonition--like much of the excellent admonitions in +this world--affected me perversely: it made me more restless than ever. +I felt that I could not rest properly until I found out who wanted me to +rest, and why. It opened indeed a limitless vista for new adventure. + + +Presently, away ahead of me in the road, I saw a man standing near +a one-horse wagon. He seemed to be engaged in some activity near the +roadside, but I could not tell exactly what. As I hastened nearer I +discovered that he was a short, strongly built, sun-bronzed man in +working-clothes--and with the shortest of short hair. I saw him take a +shovel from the wagon and begin digging. He was the road-worker. + +I asked the road-worker if he had seen the curious signs. He looked up +at me with a broad smile (he had good-humoured, very bright blue eyes). + +“Yes,” he said, “but they ain't for me.” + +“Then you don't follow the advice they give?” + +“Not with a section like mine,” said he, and he straightened up and +looked first one way of the road and then the other. “I have from Grabow +Brook, but not the bridge, to the top o' Sullivan Hill, and all the +culverts between, though two of 'em are by rights bridges. And I claim +that's a job for any full-grown man.” + +He began shovelling again in the road as if to prove how busy he was. +There had been a small landslide from an open cut on one side and a +mass of gravel and small boulders lay scattered on the smooth macadam. I +watched him for a moment. I love to watch the motions of vigorous men +at work, the easy play of the muscles, the swing of the shoulders, the +vigour of stoutly planted legs. He evidently considered the conversation +closed, and I, as--well, as a dusty man of the road--easily dismissed. +(You have no idea, until you try it, what a weight of prejudice the man +of the road has to surmount before he is accepted on easy terms by the +ordinary members of the human race.) + +A few other well-intentioned observations on my part having elicited +nothing but monosyllabic replies, I put my bag down by the roadside +and, going up to the wagon, got out a shovel, and without a word took +my place at the other end of the landslide and began to shovel for all I +was worth. + +I said not a word to the husky road-worker and pretended not to look +at him, but I saw him well enough out of the corner of my eye. He was +evidently astonished and interested, as I knew he would be: it was +something entirely new on the road. He didn't quite know whether to be +angry, or amused, or sociable. I caught him looking over at me several +times, but I offered no response; then he cleared his throat and said: + +“Where you from?” + +I answered with a monosyllable which I knew he could not quite catch. +Silence again for some time, during which I shovelled valiantly and with +great inward amusement. Oh, there is nothing like cracking a hard human +nut! I decided at that moment, to have him invite me to supper. + +Finally, when I showed no signs of stopping my work, he himself paused +and leaned on his shovel. I kept right on. + +“Say, partner,” said he, finally, “did YOU read those signs as you come +up the road?” + +“Yes,” I said, “but they weren't for me, either. My section's a long +one, too.” + +“Say, you ain't a road-worker, are you?” he asked eagerly. + +“Yes,” said I, with a sudden inspiration, “that's exactly what I am--a +road-worker.” + +“Put her there, then, partner,” he said, with a broad smile on his +bronzed face. + +He and I struck hands, rested on our shovels (like old hands at it), and +looked with understanding into each other's eyes. We both knew the trade +and the tricks of the trade; all bars were down between us. The fact is, +we had both seen and profited by the peculiar signs at the roadside. + +“Where's your section?” he asked easily. + +“Well,” I responded after considering the question, “I have a very long +and hard section. It begins at a place called Prosy Common--do you know +it?--and reaches to the top of Clear Hill. There are several bad spots +on the way, I can tell you.” + +“Don't know it,” said the husky road-worker; “'tain't round here, is it? +In the town of Sheldon, maybe?” + +Just at this moment, perhaps fortunately, for there is nothing so +difficult to satisfy as the appetite of people for specific information, +a motor-car whizzed past, the driver holding up his hand in greeting, +and the road-worker and I responding in accordance with the etiquette of +the Great Road. + +“There he goes in the ruts again,” said the husky road-worker. “Why is +it, I'd like to know, that every one wants to run in the same identical +track when they've got the whole wide road before 'em?” + +“That's what has long puzzled me, too,” I said. “Why WILL people +continue to run in ruts?” + +“It don't seem to do no good to put up signs,” said the road-worker. + +“Very little indeed,” said I. “The fact is, people have got to be bumped +out of the ruts they get into.” + +“You're right,” said he enthusiastically, and his voice dropped into the +tone of one speaking to a member of the inner guild. “I know how to get +'em.” + +“How?” I asked in an equally mysterious voice. + +“I put a stone or two in the ruts!” + +“Do you?” I exclaimed. “I've done that very thing myself--many a time! +Just place a good hard tru--I mean stone, with a bit of common dust +sprinkled over it, in the middle of the rut, and they'll look out for +THAT rut for some time to come.” + +“Ain't it gorgeous,” said the husky road-worker, chuckling joyfully, “to +see 'em bump?” + +“It is,” said I--“gorgeous.” + +After that, shovelling part of the time in a leisurely way, and part of +the time responding to the urgent request of the signs by the roadside +(it pays to advertise!), the husky road-worker and I discussed many +great and important subjects, all, however, curiously related to roads. +Working all day long with his old horse, removing obstructions, draining +out the culverts, filling ruts and holes with new stone, and repairing +the damage of rain and storm, the road-worker was filled with a world of +practical information covering roads and road-making. And having learned +that I was of the same calling, we exchanged views with the greatest +enthusiasm. It was astonishing to see how nearly in agreement we were as +to what constituted an ideal road. + +“Almost everything,” said he, “depends on depth. If you get a good solid +foundation, the' ain't anything that can break up your road.” + +“Exactly what I have discovered,” I responded. “Get down to bedrock and +do an honest job of building.” + +“And don't have too many sharp turns.” + +“No,” said I, “long, leisurely curves are best--all through life. You +have observed that nearly all the accidents on the road are due to sharp +turnings.” + +“Right you are!” he exclaimed. + +“A man who tries to turn too sharply on his way nearly always skids.” + +“Or else turns turtle in the ditch.” + +But it was not until we reached the subject of oiling that we mounted to +the real summit of enthusiastic agreement. Of all things on the road, or +above the road, or in the waters under the road, there is nothing that +the road-worker dislikes more than oil. + +“It's all right,” said he, “to use oil for surfacin' and to keep down +the dust. You don't need much and it ain't messy. But sometimes when you +see oil pumped on a road, you know that either the contractor has been +jobbin', or else the road's worn out and ought to be rebuilt.” + +“That's exactly what I've found,” said I. “Let a road become almost +impassable with ruts and rocks and dust, and immediately some man says, +'Oh, it's all right--put on a little oil--'” + +“That's what our supervisor is always sayin',” said the road-worker. + +“Yes,” I responded, “it usually is the supervisor. He lives by it. He +wants to smooth over the defects, he wants to lay the dust that every +passerby kicks up, he tries to smear over the truth regarding conditions +with messy and ill-smelling oil. Above everything, he doesn't want the +road dug up and rebuilt--says it will interfere with traffic, injure +business, and even set people to talking about changing the route +entirely! Oh, haven't I seen it in religion, where they are doing their +best to oil up roads that are entirely worn out--and as for politics, is +not the cry of the party-roadster and the harmony-oilers abroad in the +land?” + +In the excited interest with which this idea now bore me along I had +entirely forgotten the existence of my companion, and as I now glanced +at him I saw him standing with a curious look of astonishment and +suspicion on his face. I saw that I had unintentionally gone a little +too far. So I said abruptly: + +“Partner, let's get a drink. I'm thirsty.” + +He followed me, I thought a bit reluctantly, to a little brook not +far up the road where we had been once before. As we were drinking, +silently, I looked at the stout young fellow standing there, and I +thought to myself: + +What a good, straightforward young fellow he is anyway, and how +thoroughly he knows his job. I thought how well he was equipped with +unilluminated knowledge, and it came to me whimsically, that here was a +fine bit of road-mending for me to do. + +Most people have sight, but few have insight; and as I looked into +the clear blue eyes of my friend I had a sudden swift inspiration, and +before I could repent of it I had said to him in the most serious voice +that I could command: + +“Friend, I am in reality a spectacle-peddler--” + +His glance shifted uncomfortably to my gray bag. + +“And I want to sell you a pair of spectacles,” I said. “I see that you +are nearly blind.” + +“Me blind!” + +It would be utterly impossible to describe the expression on his +face. His hand went involuntarily to his eyes, and he glanced quickly, +somewhat fearfully, about. + +“Yes, nearly blind,” said I. “I saw it when I first met you. You don't +know it yourself yet, but I can assure you it is a bad case.” + +I paused, and shook my head slowly. If I had not been so much in +earnest, I think I should have been tempted to laugh outright. I had +begun my talk with him half jestingly, with the amusing idea of breaking +through his shell, but I now found myself tremendously engrossed, and +desired nothing in the world (at that moment) so much as to make him see +what I saw. I felt as though I held a live human soul in my hand. + +“Say, partner,” said the road-worker, “are you sure you aren't--” He +tapped his forehead and began to edge away. + +I did not answer his question at all, but continued, with my eyes fixed +on him: + +“It is a peculiar sort of blindness. Apparently, as you look about, you +see everything there is to see, but as a matter of fact you see nothing +in the world but this road--” + +“It's time that I was seein' it again then,” said he, making as if to +turn back to work, but remaining with a disturbed expression on his +countenance. + +“The Spectacles I have to sell,” said I, “are powerful magnifiers”--he +glanced again at the gray bag. “When you put them on you will see a +thousand wonderful things besides the road--” + +“Then you ain't road-worker after all!” he said, evidently trying to be +bluff and outright with me. + + +Now your substantial, sober, practical American will stand only about +so much verbal foolery; and there is nothing in the world that makes him +more uncomfortable--yes, downright mad!--than to feel that he is being +played with. I could see that I had nearly reached the limit with him, +and that if I held him now it must be by driving the truth straight +home. So I stepped over toward him and said very earnestly: + +“My friend, don't think I am merely joking you. I was never more in +earnest in all my life. When I told you I was a road-worker I meant it, +but I had in mind the mending of other kinds of roads than this.” + +I laid my hand on his arm, and explained to him as directly and simply +as English words could do it, how, when he had spoken of oil for his +roads, I thought of another sort of oil for another sort of roads, and +when he spoke of curves in his roads I was thinking of curves in the +roads I dealt with, and I explained to him what my roads were. I have +never seen a man more intensely interested: he neither moved nor took +his eyes from my face. + +“And when I spoke of selling you a pair of spectacles,” said I, “it was +only a way of telling you how much I wanted to make you see my kinds of +roads as well as your own.” + +I paused, wondering if, after all, he could be made to see. I know now +how the surgeon must feel at the crucial moment of his accomplished +operation. Will the patient live or die? + +The road-worker drew a long breath as he came out from under the +anesthetic. + +“I guess, partner,” said he, “you're trying to put a stone or two in my +ruts!” + +I had him! + +“Exactly,” I exclaimed eagerly. + +We both paused. He was the first to speak--with some embarrassment: + +“Say, you're just like a preacher I used to know when I was a kid. He +was always sayin' things that meant something else and when you found +out what he was drivin' at you always felt kind of queer in your +insides.” + +I laughed. + +“It's a mighty good sign,” I said, “when a man begins to feel queer in +the insides. It shows that something is happening to him.” + +With that we walked back to the road, feeling very close and +friendly--and shovelling again, not saying much. After quite a +time, when we had nearly cleaned up the landslide, I heard the husky +road-worker chuckling to himself; finally, straightening up, he said: + +“Say, there's more things in a road than ever I dreamt of.” + +“I see,” said I, “that the new spectacles are a good fit.” + +The road-worker laughed long and loud. + +“You're a good one, all right,” he said. “I see what YOU mean. I catch +your point.” + +“And now that you've got them on,” said I, “and they are serving you +so well, I'm not going to sell them to you at all. I'm going to present +them to you--for I haven't seen anybody in a long time that I've enjoyed +meeting more than I have you.” + +We nurse a fiction that people love to cover up their feelings; but I +have learned that if the feeling is real and deep they love far better +to find a way to uncover it. + +“Same here,” said the road-worker simply, but with a world of genuine +feeling in his voice. + +Well, when it came time to stop work the road-worker insisted that I get +in and go home with him. + +“I want you to see my wife and kids,” said he. + +The upshot of it was that I not only remained for supper--and a good +supper it was--but I spent the night in his little home, close at the +side of the road near the foot of a fine hill. And from time to time all +night long, it seemed to me, I could hear the rush of cars going by in +the smooth road outside, and sometimes their lights flashed in at my +window, and sometimes I heard them sound their brassy horns. + +I wish I could tell more of what I saw there, of the garden back of the +house, and of all the road-worker and his wife told me of their simple +history--but, the road calls! + +When I set forth early this morning the road-worker followed me out +to the smooth macadam (his wife standing in the doorway with her hands +rolled in her apron) and said to me, a bit shyly: + +“I'll be more sort o'--sort o' interested in roads since I've seen you.” + +“I'll be along again some of these days,” said I, laughing, “and I'll +stop in and show you my new stock of spectacles. Maybe I can sell you +another pair!” + +“Maybe you kin,” and he smiled a broad, understanding smile. + +Nothing brings men together like having a joke in common. + +So I walked off down the road--in the best of spirits--ready for the +events of another day. + +It will surely be a great adventure, one of these days, to come this way +again--and to visit the Stanleys, and the Vedders, and the Minister, and +drop in and sell another pair of specs to the Road-worker. It seems to +me I have a wonderfully rosy future ahead of me! + + +P. S.--I have not yet found out who painted the curious signs; but I am +not as uneasy about it as I was. I have seen two more of them already +this morning--and find they exert quite a psychological influence. + + + +CHAPTER VI. AN EXPERIMENT IN HUMAN NATURE + +In the early morning after I left the husky road-mender (wearing his new +spectacles), I remained steadfastly on the Great Road or near it. It was +a prime spring day, just a little hazy, as though promising rain, but +soft and warm. + +“They will be working in the garden at home,” I thought, “and there will +be worlds of rhubarb and asparagus.” Then I remembered how the morning +sunshine would look on the little vine-clad back porch (reaching halfway +up the weathered door) of my own house among the hills. + +It was the first time since my pilgrimage began that I had thought with +any emotion of my farm--or of Harriet. + +And then the road claimed me again, and I began to look out for some +further explanation of the curious sign, the single word “Rest,” which +had interested me so keenly on the preceding day. It may seem absurd to +some who read these lines--some practical people!--but I cannot convey +the pleasure I had in the very elusiveness and mystery of the sign, +nor how I wished I might at the next turn come upon the poet himself. I +decided that no one but a poet could have contented himself with a lyric +in one word, unless it might have been a humourist, to whom sometimes a +single small word is more blessed than all the verbal riches of Webster +himself. For it is nothing short of genius that uses one word when +twenty will say the same thing! + +Or, would he, after all, turn out to be only a more than ordinarily +alluring advertiser? I confess my heart went into my throat that +morning, when I first saw the sign, lest it read: + +[ RESTaurant 2 miles east ] + +nor should I have been surprised if it had. + +I caught a vicarious glimpse of the sign-man to-day, through the eyes +of a young farmer. Yes, he s'posed he'd seen him, he said; wore a slouch +hat, couldn't tell whether he was young or old. Drove into the bushes +(just down there beyond the brook) and, standin' on the seat of his +buggy, nailed something to a tree. A day or two later--the dull wonder +of mankind!--the young farmer, passing that way to town, had seen the +odd sign “Rest” on the tree: he s'posed the fellow put it there. + +“What does it mean?” + +“Well, naow, I hadn't thought,” said the young farmer. + +“Did the fellow by any chance have long hair?” + +“Well, naow, I didn't notice,” said he. + +“Are you sure he wore a slouch hat?” + +“Ye-es--or it may a-been straw,” replied the observant young farmer. + + +So I tramped that morning; and as I tramped I let my mind go out warmly +to the people living all about on the farms or in the hills. It is +pleasant at times to feel life, as it were, in general terms: no +specific Mr. Smith or concrete Mr. Jones, but just human life. I love to +think of people all around going out busily in the morning to their work +and returning at night, weary, to rest. I like to think of them growing +up, growing old, loving, achieving, sinning, failing--in short, living. + +In such a live-minded mood as this it often happens that the most +ordinary things appear charged with new significance. I suppose I had +seen a thousand rural-mail boxes along country roads before that day, +but I had seen them as the young farmer saw the sign-man. They were mere +inert objects of iron and wood. + +But as I tramped, thinking of the people in the hills, I came quite +unexpectedly upon a sandy by-road that came out through a thicket +of scrub oaks and hazel-brush, like some shy countryman, to join +the turn-pike. As I stood looking into it--for it seemed peculiarly +inviting--I saw at the entrance a familiar group of rural-mail boxes. +And I saw them not as dead things, but for the moment--the illusion was +over-powering--they were living, eager hands outstretched to the +passing throng I could feel, hear, see the farmers up there in the +hills reaching out to me, to all the world, for a thousand inexpressible +things, for more life, more companionship, more comforts, more money. + +It occurred to me at that moment, whimsically and yet somehow seriously, +that I might respond to the appeal of the shy country road and the +outstretched hands. At first I did not think of anything I could +do--save to go up and eat dinner with one of the hill farmers, which +might not be an unmixed blessing!--and then it came to me. + +“I will write a letter!” + +Straightway and with the liveliest amusement I began to formulate in my +mind what I should say: + +Dear Friend: You do not know me. I am a passerby in the road. My name is +David Grayson. You do not know me, and it may seem odd to you to receive +a letter from an entire stranger. But I am something of a farmer myself, +and as I went by I could not help thinking of you and your family and +your farm. The fact is, I should like to look you up, and talk with you +about many things. I myself cultivate a number of curious fields, and +raise many kinds of crops-- + +At this interesting point my inspiration suddenly collapsed, for I had +a vision, at once amusing and disconcerting, of my hill farmer (and his +practical wife!) receiving such a letter (along with the country paper, +a circular advertising a cure for catarrh, and the most recent catalogue +of the largest mail-order house in creation). I could see them standing +there in their doorway, the man with his coat off, doubtfully scratching +his head as he read my letter, the woman wiping her hands on her apron +and looking over his shoulder, and a youngster squeezing between the two +and demanding, “What is it, Paw?” + +I found myself wondering how they would receive such an unusual letter, +what they would take it to mean. And in spite of all I could do, I +could imagine no expression on their faces save one of incredulity and +suspicion. I could fairly see the shrewd worldly wise look come into the +farmer's face; I could hear him say: + +“Ha, guess he thinks we ain't cut our eye-teeth!” And he would instantly +begin speculating as to whether this was a new scheme for selling +him second-rate nursery stock, or the smooth introduction of another +sewing-machine agent. + +Strange world, strange world! Sometimes it seems to me that the hardest +thing of all to believe in is simple friendship. Is it not a comment +upon our civilization that it is so often easier to believe that a +man is a friend-for-profit, or even a cheat, than that he is frankly a +well-wisher of his neighbours? + + +These reflections put such a damper upon my enthusiasm that I was on the +point of taking again to the road, when it came to me powerfully: Why +not try the experiment? Why not? + +“Friendship,” I said aloud, “is the greatest thing in the world. There +is no door it will not unlock, no problem it will not solve. It is, +after all, the only real thing in this world.” + +The sound of my own voice brought me suddenly to myself, and I found +that I was standing there in the middle of the public road, one clenched +fist absurdly raised in air, delivering an oration to a congregation of +rural-mail boxes! + +And yet, in spite of the humorous aspects of the idea, it still appeared +to me that such an experiment would not only fit in with the true object +of my journeying, but that it might be full of amusing and interesting +adventures. Straightway I got my notebook out of my bag and, sitting +down near the roadside, wrote my letter. I wrote it as though my life +depended upon it, with the intent of making some one household there in +the hills feel at least a little wave of warmth and sympathy from the +great world that was passing in the road below. I tried to prove the +validity of a kindly thought with no selling device attached to it; I +tried to make it such a word of frank companionship as I myself, working +in my own fields, would like to receive. + +Among the letter-boxes in the group was one that stood a little detached +and behind the others, as though shrinking from such prosperous company. +It was made of unpainted wood, with leather hinges, and looked shabby +in comparison with the jaunty red, green, and gray paint of some of the +other boxes (with their cocky little metallic flags upraised). It bore +the good American name of Clark--T. N. Clark--and it seemed to me that I +could tell something of the Clarks by the box at the crossing. + +“I think they need a friendly word,” I said to myself. + +So I wrote the name T. N. Clark on my envelope and put the letter in his +box. + +It was with a sense of joyous adventure that I now turned aside into the +sandy road and climbed the hill. My mind busied itself with thinking how +I should carry out my experiment, how I should approach these Clarks, +and how and what they were. A thousand ways I pictured to myself the +receipt of the letter: it would at least be something new for them, +something just a little disturbing, and I was curious to see whether +it might open the rift of wonder wide enough to let me slip into their +lives. + +I have often wondered why it is that men should be so fearful of new +ventures in social relationships, when I have found them so fertile, +so enjoyable. Most of us fear (actually fear) people who differ from +ourselves, either up or down the scale. Your Edison pries fearlessly +into the intimate secrets of matter; your Marconi employs the mysterious +properties of the “jellied ether,” but let a man seek to experiment with +the laws of that singular electricity which connects you and me (though +you be a millionaire and I a ditch-digger), and we think him a wild +visionary, an academic person. I think sometimes that the science of +humanity to-day is in about the state of darkness that the natural +sciences were when Linneus and Cuvier and Lamarck began groping for the +great laws of natural unity. Most of the human race is still groaning +under the belief that each of us is a special and unrelated creation, +just as men for ages saw no relationships between the fowls of the air, +the beasts of the field, and the fish of the sea. But, thank God, we +are beginning to learn that unity is as much a law of life as selfish +struggle, and love a more vital force than avarice or lust of power or +place. A Wandering Carpenter knew it, and taught it, twenty centuries +ago. + +“The next house beyond the ridge,” said the toothless old woman, +pointing with a long finger, “is the Clarks'. You can't miss it,” and I +thought she looked at me oddly. + +I had been walking briskly for some three miles, and it was with keen +expectation that I now mounted the ridge and saw the farm for which I +was looking, lying there in the valley before me. It was altogether a +wild and beautiful bit of country--stunted cedars on the knolls of the +rolling hills, a brook trailing its way among alders and willows down a +long valley, and shaggy old fields smiling in the sun. As I came nearer +I could see that the only disharmony in the valley was the work (or +idleness) of men. A broken mowing-machine stood in the field where +it had been left the summer before, rusty and forlorn, and dead weeds +marked the edges of a field wherein the spring ploughing was now only +half done. The whole farmstead, indeed, looked tired. As for the house +and barn, they had reached that final stage of decay in which the +best thing that could be said of them was that they were picturesque. +Everything was as different from the farm of the energetic and joyous +Stanleys, whose work I had shared only a few days before, as anything +that could be imagined. + +Now, my usual way of getting into step with people is simplicity itself. +I take off my coat and go to work with them and the first thing I +know we have become first-rate friends. One doesn't dream of the +possibilities of companionship in labour until he has tried it. + +But how shall one get into step with a man who is not stepping? + +On the porch of the farmhouse, there in the mid-afternoon, a man sat +idly; and children were at play in the yard. I went in at the gate, not +knowing in the least what I should say or do, but determined to get hold +of the problem somewhere. As I approached the step, I swung my bag from +my shoulder. + +“Don't want to buy nothin',” said the man. + +“Well,” said I, “that is fortunate, for I have nothing to sell. But +you've got something I want.” + +He looked at me dully. + +“What's that?” + +“A drink of water.” + +Scarcely moving his head, he called to a shy older girl who had just +appeared in the doorway. + +“Mandy, bring a dipper of water.” + +As I stood there the children gathered curiously around me, and the man +continued to sit in his chair, saying absolutely nothing, a picture of +dull discouragement. + +“How they need something to stir them up,” I thought. + +When I had emptied the dipper, I sat down on the top step of the porch, +and, without saying a word to the man, placed my bag beside me and began +to open it. The shy girl paused, dipper in hand, the children stood +on tiptoe, and even the man showed signs of curiosity. With studied +deliberation I took out two books I had with me and put them on the +porch; then I proceeded to rummage for a long time in the bottom of the +bag as though I could not find what I wanted. Every eye was glued upon +me, and I even heard the step of Mrs. Clark as she came to the but I did +not look up or speak. Finally I pulled out my tin whistle and, leaning +back against the porch column, placed it to my lips, and began playing +in Tom Madison's best style (eyes half closed, one toe tapping to +the music, head nodding, fingers lifted high from the stops), I began +playing “Money Musk,” and “Old Dan Tucker.” Oh, I put vim into it, I can +tell you! And bad as my playing was, I had from the start an absorption +of attention from my audience that Paderewski himself might have envied. +I wound up with a lively trill in the high notes and took my whistle +from my lips with a hearty laugh, for the whole thing had been downright +good fun, the playing itself, the make-believe which went with it, the +surprise and interest in the children's faces, the slow-breaking smile +of the little girl with the dipper. + +“I'll warrant you, madam,” I said to the woman who now stood frankly +in the doorway with her hands wrapped in her apron, “you haven't heard +those tunes since you were a girl and danced to 'em.” + +“You're right,” she responded heartily. + +“I'll give you another jolly one,” I said, and, replacing my whistle, I +began with even greater zest to play “Yankee Doodle.” + +When I had gone through it half a dozen times with such added variations +and trills as I could command, and had two of the children hopping about +in the yard, and the forlorn man tapping his toe to the tune, and a +smile on the face of the forlorn woman, I wound up with a rush and +then, as if I could hold myself in no longer (and I couldn't either!), I +suddenly burst out: + + Yankee doodle dandy! + Yankee doodle dandy! + Mind the music and the step, + And with the girls be handy. + +It may seem surprising, but I think I can understand why it was--when I +looked up at the woman in the doorway there were tears in her eyes! + +“Do you know 'John Brown's Body'?” eagerly inquired the little girl +with the dipper, and then, as if she had done something quite bold and +improper, she blushed and edged toward the doorway. + +“How does it go?” I asked, and one of the bold lads in the yard +instantly puckered his lips to show me, and immediately they were all +trying it. + +“Here goes,” said I, and for the next few minutes, and in my very best +style, I hung Jeff Davis on the sour apple-tree, and I sent the soul +of John Brown marching onward with an altogether unnecessary number of +hallelujahs. + +I think sometimes that people--whole families of 'em--literally +perish for want of a good, hearty, whole-souled, mouth-opening, +throat-stretching, side-aching laugh. They begin to think themselves the +abused of creation, they begin to advise with their livers and to hate +their neighbours, and the whole world becomes a miserable dark blue +place quite unfit for human habitation. Well, all this is often only the +result of a neglect to exercise properly those muscles of the body (and +of the soul) which have to do with honest laughter. + +I've never supposed I was an especially amusing person, but before I got +through with it I had the Clark family well loosened up with laughter, +although I wasn't quite sure some of the time whether Mrs. Clark +was laughing or crying. I had them all laughing and talking, asking +questions and answering them as though I were an old and valued +neighbour. + +Isn't it odd how unconvinced we often are by the crises in the lives of +other people? They seem to us trivial or unimportant; but the fact is, +the crises in the life of a boy, for example, or of a poor man, are +as commanding as the crises in the life of the greatest statesman or +millionaire, for they involve equally the whole personality, the entire +prospects. + +The Clark family, I soon learned, had lost its pig. A trivial matter, +you say? I wonder if anything is ever trivial. A year of poor crops, +sickness, low prices, discouragement and, at the end of it, on top of it +all, the cherished pig had died! + +From all accounts (and the man on the porch quite lost his apathy in +telling me about it) it must have been a pig of remarkable virtues +and attainments, a paragon of pigs--in whom had been bound up the many +possibilities of new shoes for the children, a hat for the lady, a new +pair of overalls for the gentleman, and I know not what other kindred +luxuries. I do not think, indeed, I ever had the portrait of a pig +drawn for me with quite such ardent enthusiasm of detail, and the more +questions I asked the more eager the story, until finally it became +necessary for me to go to the barn, the cattle-pen, the pig-pen and +the chicken-house, that I might visualize more clearly the scene of the +tragedy. The whole family trooped after us like a classic chorus, but +Mr. Clark himself kept the centre of the stage. + +How plainly I could read upon the face of the land the story of this +hill farmer and his meagre existence--his ill-directed effort to wring +a poor living for his family from these upland fields, his poverty, and, +above all, his evident lack of knowledge of his own calling. Added to +these things, and perhaps the most depressing of all his difficulties, +was the utter loneliness of the task, the feeling that it mattered +little to any one whether the Clark family worked or not, or indeed +whether they lived or died. A perfectly good American family was here +being wasted, with the precious land they lived on, because no one had +taken the trouble to make them feel that they were a part of this Great +American Job. + + +As we went back to the house, a freckled-nosed neighbour's boy came in +at the gate. + +“A letter for you, Mr. Clark,” said he. “I brought it up with our mail.” + +“A letter!” exclaimed Mrs. Clark. + +“A letter!” echoed at least three of the children in unison. + +“Probably a dun from Brewster,” said Mr. Clark discouragingly. + +I felt a curious sensation about the heart, and an eagerness of interest +I have rarely experienced. I had no idea what a mere letter--a mere +unopened unread letter--would mean to a family like this. + +“It has no stamp on it!” exclaimed the older girl. + +Mrs. Clark turned it over wonderingly in her hands. Mr. Clark hastily +put on a pair of steel-bowed spectacles. + +“Let me see it,” he said, and when he also had inspected it minutely he +solemnly tore open the envelope and drew forth my letter. + +'I assure you I never awaited the reading of any writing of mine with +such breathless interest. How would they take it? Would they catch the +meaning that I meant to convey? And would they suspect me of having +written it? + +Mr. Clark sat on the porch and read the letter slowly through to the +end, turned the sheet over and examined it carefully, and then began +reading it again to himself, Mrs. Clark leaning over his shoulder. + +“What does it mean?” asked Mr. Clark. + +“It's too good to be true,” said Mrs. Clark with a sigh. + +I don't know how long the discussion might have continued--probably for +days or weeks--had not the older girl, now flushed of face and rather +pretty, looked at me and said breathlessly (she was as sharp as a +briar): + +“You wrote it.” + +I stood the battery of all their eyes for a moment, smiling and rather +excited. + +“Yes,” I said earnestly, “I wrote it, and I mean every word of it.” + +I had anticipated some shock of suspicion and inquiry, but to my +surprise it was accepted as simply as a neighbourly good morning. I +suppose the mystery of it was eclipsed by my astonishing presence there +upon the scene with my tin whistle. + +At any rate, it was a changed, eager, interested family which now +occupied the porch of that dilapidated farmhouse. And immediately we +fell into a lively discussion of crops and farming, and indeed the whole +farm question, in which I found both the man and his wife singularly +acute--sharpened upon the stone of hard experience. + +Indeed, I found right here, as I have many times found among our +American farmers, an intelligence (a literacy growing out of what I +believe to be improper education) which was better able to discuss the +problems of rural life than to grapple with and solve them. A dull, +illiterate Polish farmer, I have found, will sometimes succeed much +better at the job of life than his American neighbour. + +Talk with almost any man for half an hour, and you will find that his +conversation, like an old-fashioned song, has a regularly recurrent +chorus. I soon discovered Mr. Clark's chorus. + +“Now, if only I had a little cash,” he sang, or, “If I had a few +dollars, I could do so and so.” + +Why, he was as helplessly, dependent upon money as any soft-handed +millionairess. He considered himself poor and helpless because he lacked +dollars, whereas people are really poor and helpless only when they lack +courage and faith. + +We were so much absorbed in our talk that I was greatly surprised to +hear Mrs. Clark's voice at the doorway. + +“Won't you come in to supper?” + +After we had eaten, there was a great demand for more of my tin whistle +(oh, I know how Caruso must feel!), and I played over every blessed tune +I knew, and some I didn't, four or five times, and after that we +told stories and cracked jokes in a way that must have been utterly +astonishing in that household. After the children had been, yes, driven +to bed, Mr. Clark seemed about to drop back into his lamentations over +his condition (which I have no doubt had come to give him a sort of +pleasure), but I turned to Mrs. Clark, whom I had come to respect very +highly, and began to talk about the little garden she had started, which +was about the most enterprising thing about the place. + +“Isn't it one of the finest things in this world,” said I, “to go out +into a good garden in the summer days and bring in loaded baskets filled +with beets and cabbages and potatoes, just for the gathering?” + +I knew from the expression on Mrs. Clark's face that I had touched a +sounding note. + +“Opening the green corn a little at the top to see if it is ready and +then stripping it off and tearing away the moist white husks--” + +“And picking tomatoes?” said Mrs. Clark. “And knuckling the watermelons +to see if they are ripe? Oh, I tell you there are thousands of people in +this country who'd like to be able to pick their dinner in the garden!” + +“It's fine!” said Mrs. Clark with amused enthusiasm, “but I like best +to hear the hens cackling in the barnyard in the morning after they've +laid, and to go and bring in the eggs.” + +“Just like a daily present!” I said. + +“Ye-es,” responded the soundly practical Mrs. Clark, thinking, no doubt, +that there were other aspects of the garden and chicken problem. + +“I'll tell you another thing I like about a farmer's life,” said I, +“that's the smell in the house in the summer when there are preserves, +or sweet pickles, or jam, or whatever it is, simmering on the stove. No +matter where you are, up in the garret or down cellar, it's cinnamon, +and allspice, and cloves, and every sort of sugary odour. Now, that gets +me where I live!” + +“It IS good!” said Mrs. Clark with a laugh that could certainly be +called nothing if not girlish. + + +All this time I had been keeping one eye on Mr. Clark. It was amusing +to see him struggling against a cheerful view of life. He now broke into +the conversation. + +“Well, but--” he began. + +Instantly I headed him off. + +“And think,” said I, “of living a life in which you are beholden to +no man. It's a free life, the farmer's life. No one can discharge you +because you are sick, or tired, or old, or because you are a Democrat or +a Baptist!” + +“Well, but--” + +“And think of having to pay no rent, nor of having to live upstairs in a +tenement!” + +“Well, but--” + +“Or getting run over by a street-car, or having the children play in the +gutters.” + +“I never did like to think of what my children would do if we went to +town,” said Mrs. Clark. + +“I guess not!” I exclaimed. + +The fact is, most people don't think half enough of themselves and of +their jobs; but before we went to bed that night I had the forlorn T. N. +Clark talking about the virtues of his farm in quite a surprising way. + +I even saw him eying me two or three times with a shrewd look in his +eyes (your American is an irrepressible trader) as though I might +possibly be some would-be purchaser in disguise. + +(I shall write some time a dissertation on the advantages, of wearing +shabby clothing.) + +The farm really had many good points. One of them was a shaggy old +orchard of good and thriving but utterly neglected apple-trees. + +“Man alive,” I said, when we went out to see it in the morning, “you've +got a gold mine here!” And I told him how in our neighbourhood we were +renovating the old orchards, pruning them back, spraying, and bringing +them into bearing again. + +He had never, since he owned the place, had a salable crop of fruit. +When we came in to breakfast I quite stirred the practical Mrs. Clark +with my enthusiasm, and she promised at once to send for a bulletin on +apple-tree renovation, published by the state experiment station. I am +sure I was no more earnest in my advice than the conditions warranted. + +After breakfast we went into the field, and I suggested that instead of +ploughing any more land--for the season was already late--we get out all +the accumulations of rotted manure from around the barn and strew it on +the land already ploughed and harrow it in. + +“A good job on a little piece of land,” I said, “is far more profitable +than a poor job on a big piece of land.” + +Without more ado we got his old team hitched up and began loading, and +hauling out the manure, and spent all day long at it. Indeed, such was +the height of enthusiasm which T. N. Clark now reached (for his was a +temperament that must either soar in the clouds or grovel in the mire), +that he did not wish to stop when Mrs. Clark called us in to supper. In +that one day his crop of corn, in perspective, overflowed his crib, he +could not find boxes and barrels for his apples, his shed would not hold +all his tobacco, and his barn was already being enlarged to accommodate +a couple more cows! He was also keeping bees and growing ginseng. + +But it was fine, that evening, to see Mrs. Clark's face, the renewed +hope and courage in it. I thought as I looked at her (for she was the +strong and steady one in that house): + +“If you can keep the enthusiasm up, if you can make that husband of +yours grow corn, and cows, and apples as you raise chickens and make +garden, there is victory yet in this valley.” + +That night it rained, but in spite of the moist earth we spent almost +all of the following day hard at work in the field, and all the time +talking over ways and means for the future, but the next morning, early, +I swung my bag on my back and left them. + +I shall not attempt to describe the friendliness of our parting. Mrs. +Clark followed me wistfully to the gate. + +“I can't tell you--” she began, with the tears starting in her eyes. + +“Then don't try--” said I, smiling. + +And so I swung off down the country road, without looking back. + + + +CHAPTER VII. THE UNDISCOVERED COUNTRY + +In some strange deep way there is no experience of my whole pilgrimage +that I look back upon with so much wistful affection as I do upon the +events of the day--the day and the wonderful night--which followed my +long visit with the forlorn Clark family upon their hill farm. At first +I hesitated about including an account of it here because it contains so +little of what may be called thrilling or amusing incident. + +“They want only the lively stories of my adventures,” I said to myself, +and I was at the point of pushing my notes to the edge of the table +where (had I let go) they would have fallen into the convenient oblivion +of the waste-basket. But something held me back. + +“No,” said I, “I'll tell it; if it means so much to me, it may mean +something to the friends who are following these lines.” + +For, after all, it is not what goes on outside of a man, the clash and +clatter of superficial events, that arouses our deepest interest, but +what goes on inside. Consider then that in this narrative I shall open +a little door in my heart and let you look in, if you care to, upon the +experiences of a day and a night in which I was supremely happy. + +If you had chanced to be passing, that crisp spring morning, you would +have seen a traveller on foot with a gray bag on his shoulder, swinging +along the country road; and you might have been astonished to see him +lift his hat at you and wish you a good morning. You might have turned +to look back at him, as you passed, and found him turning also to look +back at you--and wishing he might know you. But you would not have known +what he was chanting under his breath as he tramped (how little we know +of a man by the shabby coat he wears), nor how keenly he was enjoying +the light airs and the warm sunshine of that fine spring morning. + +After leaving the hill farm he had walked five miles up the valley, +had crossed the ridge at a place called the Little Notch, where all the +world lay stretched before him like the open palm of his hand, and had +come thus to the boundaries of the Undiscovered Country. He had been for +days troubled with the deep problems of other people, and it seemed to +him this morning as though a great stone had been rolled from the door +of his heart, and that he was entering upon a new world--a wonderful, +high, free world. And, as he tramped, certain lines of a stanza long ago +caught up in his memory from some forgotten page came up to his lips, +and these were the words (you did not know as you passed) that he was +chanting under his breath as he tramped, for they seem charged with the +spirit of the hour: + +I've bartered my sheets for a starlit bed; I've traded my meat for a +crust of bread; I've changed my book for a sapling cane, And I'm off to +the end of the world again. + +In the Undiscovered Country that morning it was wonderful how fresh +the spring woods were, and how the birds sang in the trees, and how the +brook sparkled and murmured at the roadside. The recent rain had washed +the atmosphere until it was as clear and sparkling and heady as new +wine, and the footing was firm and hard. As one tramped he could +scarcely keep from singing or shouting aloud for the very joy of the +day. + +“I think,” I said to myself, “I've never been in a better country,” and +it did not seem to me I cared to know where the gray road ran, nor how +far away the blue hills were. + +“It is wonderful enough anywhere here,” I said. + +And presently I turned from the road and climbed a gently sloping +hillside among oak and chestnut trees. The earth was well carpeted +for my feet, and here and there upon the hillside, where the sun came +through the green roof of foliage, were warm splashes Of yellow light, +and here and there, on shadier slopes, the new ferns were spread upon +the earth like some lacy coverlet. I finally sat down at the foot of +a tree where through a rift in the foliage in the valley below I could +catch a glimpse in the distance of the meadows and the misty blue hills. +I was glad to rest, just rest, for the two previous days of hard labour, +the labour and the tramping, had wearied me, and I sat for a long time +quietly looking about me, scarcely thinking at all, but seeing, hearing, +smelling--feeling the spring morning, and the woods and the hills, and +the patch of sky I could see. + +For a long, long time I sat thus, but finally my mind began to flow +again, and I thought how fine it would be if I had some good friend +there with me to enjoy the perfect surroundings--some friend who would +understand. And I thought of the Vedders with whom I had so recently +spent a wonderful day; and I wished that they might be with me; there +were so many things to be said--to be left unsaid. Upon this it occurred +to me, suddenly, whimsically, and I exclaimed aloud: + +“Why, I'll just call them up.” + +Half turning to the trunk of the tree where I sat, I placed one hand to +my ear and the other to my lips and said: + +“Hello, Central, give me Mr. Vedder.” + +I waited a moment, smiling a little at my own absurdity and yet quite +captivated by the enterprise. + +“Is this Mr. Vedder? Oh, Mrs. Vedder! Well, this is David Grayson.”.... + +“Yes, the very same. A bad penny, a rolling stone.”.... + +“Yes. I want you both to come here as quickly as you can. I have the +most important news for you. The mountain laurels are blooming, and +the wild strawberries are setting their fruit. Yes, yes, and in the +fields--all around here, to-day there are wonderful white patches of +daisies, and from where I sit I can see an old meadow as yellow as gold +with buttercups. And the bobolinks are hovering over the low spots. Oh, +but it is fine here--and we are not together!”.... + +“No; I cannot give exact directions. But take the Long Road and turn at +the turning by the tulip-tree, and you will find me at home. Come right +in without knocking.” + + +I hung up the receiver. For a single instant it had seemed almost true, +and indeed I believe--I wonder-- + +Some day, I thought, just a bit sadly, for I shall probably not be here +then--some day, we shall be able to call our friends through space and +time. Some day we shall discover that marvellously simple coherer by +which we may better utilize the mysterious ether of love. + +For a time I was sad with thoughts of the unaccomplished future, and +then I reflected that if I could not call up the Vedders so informally +I could at least write down a few paragraphs which would give them some +faint impression of that time and place. But I had no sooner taken +out my note-book and put down a sentence or two than I stuck fast. How +foolish and feeble written words are anyway! With what glib facility +they describe, but how inadequately they convey. A thousand times I have +thought to myself, “If only I could WRITE!” + +Not being able to write I turned, as I have so often turned before, to +some good old book, trusting that I might find in the writing of another +man what I lacked in my own. I took out my battered copy of Montaigne +and, opening it at random, as I love to do, came, as luck would have it, +upon a chapter devoted to coaches, in which there is much curious (and +worthless) information, darkened with Latin quotations. This reading had +an unexpected effect upon me. + +I could not seem to keep my mind down upon the printed page; it kept +bounding away at the sight of the distant hills, at the sound of a +woodpecker on a dead stub which stood near me, and at the thousand and +one faint rustlings, creepings, murmurings, tappings, which animate +the mystery of the forest. How dull indeed appeared the printed page +in comparison with the book of life, how shut-in its atmosphere, how +tinkling and distant the sound of its voices. Suddenly I shut my book +with a snap. + +“Musty coaches and Latin quotations!” I exclaimed. “Montaigne's no +writer for the open air. He belongs at a study fire on a quiet evening!” + +I had anticipated, when I started out, many a pleasant hour by the +roadside or in the woods with my books, but this was almost the first +opportunity I had found for reading (as it was almost the last), so full +was the present world of stirring events. As for poor old Montaigne, I +have been out of harmony with him ever since, nor have I wanted him in +the intimate case at my elbow. + +After a long time in the forest, and the sun having reached the high +heavens, I gathered up my pack and set forth again along the slope of +the hills--not hurrying, just drifting and enjoying every sight and +sound. And thus walking I came in sight, through the trees, of a +glistening pool of water and made my way straight toward it. + + +A more charming spot I have rarely seen. In some former time an old +mill had stood at the foot of the little valley, and a ruinous stone +dam still held the water in a deep, quiet pond between two round hills. +Above it a brook ran down through the woods, and below, with a pleasant +musical sound, the water dripped over the mossy stone lips of the dam +and fell into the rocky pool below. Nature had long ago healed the +wounds of men; she had half-covered the ruined mill with verdure, had +softened the stone walls of the dam with mosses and lichens, and had +crept down the steep hillside and was now leaning so far out over the +pool that she could see her reflection in the quiet water. + +Near the upper end of the pond I found a clear white sand-bank, where +no doubt a thousand fishermen had stood, half hidden by the willows, to +cast for trout in the pool below. I intended merely to drink and moisten +my face, but as I knelt by the pool and saw my reflection in the clear +water wanted something more than that! In a moment I had thrown aside my +bag and clothes and found myself wading naked into the water. + +It was cold! I stood a moment there in the sunny air, the great world +open around me, shuddering, for I dreaded the plunge--and then with a +run, a shout and a splash I took the deep water. Oh, but it was fine! +With long, deep strokes I carried myself fairly to the middle of the +pond. The first chill was succeeded by a tingling glow, and I can convey +no idea whatever of the glorious sense of exhilaration I had. I swam +with the broad front stroke, I swam on my side, head half submerged, +with a deep under stroke, and I rolled over on my back and swam with the +water lapping my chin. Thus I came to the end of the pool near the old +dam, touched my feet on the bottom, gave a primeval whoop, and dove back +into the water again. I have rarely experienced keener physical joy. +After swimming thus boisterously for a time, I quieted down to long, +leisurely strokes, conscious of the water playing across my shoulders +and singing at my ears, and finally, reaching the centre of the pond, I +turned over on my back and, paddling lazily, watched the slow procession +of light clouds across the sunlit openings of the trees above me. Away +up in the sky I could see a hawk slowly swimming about (in his element +as I was in mine), and nearer at hand, indeed fairly in the thicket +about the pond, I could hear a wood-thrush singing. + +And so, shaking the water out of my hair and swimming with long and +leisurely strokes, I returned to the sand-bank, and there, standing in a +spot of warm sunshine, I dried myself with the towel from my bag. And I +said to myself: + +“Surely it is good to be alive at a time like this!” + +Slowly I drew on my clothes, idling there in the sand, and afterward I +found an inviting spot in an old meadow where I threw myself down on the +grass under an apple-tree and looked up into the shadowy places in the +foliage above me. I felt a delicious sense of physical well-being, and I +was pleasantly tired. + +So I lay there--and the next thing I knew, I turned over, feeling cold +and stiff, and opened my eyes upon the dusky shadows of late evening. I +had been sleeping for hours! + + +The next few minutes (or was it an hour or eternity?), I recall as +containing some of the most exciting and, when all is said, amusing +incidents in my whole life. And I got quite a new glimpse of that +sometimes bumptious person known as David Grayson. + +The first sensation I had was one of complete panic. What was I to do? +Where was I to go? + +Hastily seizing my bag--and before I was half awake--I started rapidly +across the meadow, in my excitement tripping and falling several times +in the first hundred yards. In daylight I have no doubt that I should +easily have seen a gateway or at least an opening from the old meadow, +but in the fast-gathering darkness it seemed to me that the open field +was surrounded on every side by impenetrable forests. Absurd as it +may seem, for no one knows what his mind will do at such a moment, +I recalled vividly a passage from Stanley's story of his search for +Livingstone, in which he relates how he escaped from a difficult place +in the jungle by KEEPING STRAIGHT AHEAD. + +I print these words in capitals because they seemed written that night +upon the sky. KEEPING STRAIGHT AHEAD, I entered the forest on one side +of the meadow (with quite a heroic sense of adventure), but scraped my +shin on a fallen log and ran into a tree with bark on it that felt like +a gigantic currycomb--and stopped! + +Up to this point I think I was still partly asleep. Now, however, I +waked up. + +“All you need,” said I to myself in my most matter-of-fact tone, “is a +little cool sense. Be quiet now and reason it out.” + +So I stood there for some moments reasoning it out, with the result that +I turned back and found the meadow again. + +“What a fool I've been!” I said. “Isn't it perfectly plain that I should +have gone down to the pond, crossed over the inlet, and reached the road +by the way I came?” + +Having thus settled my problem, and congratulating myself on my +perspicacity, I started straight for the mill-pond, but to my utter +amazement, in the few short hours while I had been asleep, that entire +body of water had evaporated, the dam had disappeared, and the stream +had dried up. I must certainly present the facts in this remarkable case +to some learned society. + +I then decided to return to the old apple-tree where I had slept, which +now seemed quite like home, but, strange to relate, the apple-tree had +also completely vanished from the enchanted meadow. At that I began to +suspect that in coming out of the forest I had somehow got into another +and somewhat similar old field. I have never had a more confused or +eerie sensation; not fear, but a sort of helplessness in which for +an instant I actually began to doubt whether it was I myself, David +Grayson, who stood there in the dark meadow, or whether I was the victim +of a peculiarly bad dream. I suppose many other people have had these +sensations under similar conditions, but they were new to me. + +I turned slowly around and looked for a light; I think I never wanted so +much to see some sign of human habitation as I did at that moment. + +What a coddled world we live in, truly. That being out after dark in a +meadow should so disturb the very centre of our being! In all my life, +indeed, and I suppose the same is true of ninety-nine out of a hundred +of the people in America to-day, I had never before found myself where +nothing stood between nature and me, where I had no place to sleep, no +shelter for the night--nor any prospect of finding one. I was infinitely +less resourceful at that moment than a rabbit, or a partridge, or a gray +squirrel. + + + +Presently I sat down on the ground where I had been standing, with a +vague fear (absurd to look back upon) that it, too, in some manner might +slip away from under me. And as I sat there I began to have familiar +gnawings at the pit of my stomach, and I remembered that, save for +a couple of Mrs. Clark's doughnuts eaten while I was sitting on the +hillside, ages ago, I had had nothing since my early breakfast. + +With this thought of my predicament--and the glimpse I had of myself +“hungry and homeless”--the humour of the whole situation suddenly came +over me, and, beginning with a chuckle, I wound up, as my mind dwelt +upon my recent adventures, with a long, loud, hearty laugh. + +As I laughed--and what a roar it made in that darkness!--I got up on my +feet and looked up at the sky. One bright star shone out over the woods, +and in high heavens I could see dimly the white path of the Milky Way. +And all at once I seemed again to be in command of myself and of the +world. I felt a sudden lift and thrill of the spirits, a warm sense that +this too was part of the great adventure--the Thing Itself. + +“This is the light,” I said looking up again at the sky and the single +bright star, “which is set for me to-night. I will make my bed by it.” + +I can hope to make no one understand (unless he understands already) +with what joy of adventure I now crept through the meadow toward the +wood. It was an unknown, unexplored world I was in, and I, the fortunate +discoverer, had here to shift for himself, make his home under the +stars! Marquette on the wild shores of the Mississippi, or Stanley in +Africa, had no joy that I did not know at that moment. + +I crept along the meadow and came at last to the wood. Here I chose a +somewhat sheltered spot at the foot of a large tree--and yet a spot not +so obscured that I could not look out over the open spaces of the meadow +and see the sky. Here, groping in the darkness, like some primitive +creature, I raked together a pile of leaves with my fingers, and found +dead twigs and branches of trees; but in that moist forest (where the +rain had fallen only the day before) my efforts to kindle a fire were +unavailing. Upon this, I considered using some pages from my notebook, +but another alternative suggested itself: + +“Why not Montaigne?” + +With that I groped for the familiar volume, and with a curious sensation +of satisfaction I tore out a handful of pages from the back. + +“Better Montaigne than Grayson,” I said, with a chuckle. It was amazing +how Montaigne sparkled and crackled when he was well lighted. + +“There goes a bundle of quotations from Vergil,” I said, “and there's +his observations on the eating of fish. There are more uses than one for +the classics.” + +So I ripped out a good part of another chapter, and thus, by coaxing, +got my fire to going. It was not difficult after that to find enough +fuel to make it blaze up warmly. + +I opened my bag and took out the remnants of the luncheon which Mrs. +Clark had given me that morning; and I was surprised and delighted to +find, among the other things, a small bottle of coffee. This suggested +all sorts of pleasing possibilities and, the spirit of invention being +now awakened, I got out my tin cup, split a sapling stick so I could fit +it into the handle, and set the cup, full of coffee, on the coals at the +edge of the fire. It was soon heated, and although I spilled some of it +in getting it off, and although it was well spiced with ashes, I enjoyed +it, with Mrs. Clark's doughnuts and sandwiches (some of which I toasted +with a sapling fork) as thoroughly, I think, as ever I enjoyed any meal. + +How little we know--we who dread life--how much there is in life! + +My activities around the fire had warmed me to the bone, and after I +was well through with my meal I gathered a plentiful supply of wood and +placed it near at hand, I got out my waterproof cape and put it on, and, +finally piling more sticks on the fire, I sat down comfortably at the +foot of the tree. + + +I wish I could convey the mystery and the beauty of that night. Did you +ever sit by a campfire and watch the flames dance, and the sparks fly +upward into the cool dark air? Did you ever see the fitful light among +the tree-depths, at one moment opening vast shadowy vistas into the +forest, at the next dying downward and leaving it all in sombre mystery? +It came to me that night with the wonderful vividness of a fresh +experience. + +And what a friendly and companionable thing a campfire is! How generous +and outright it is! It plays for you when you wish so be lively, and it +glows for you when you wish to be reflective. + +After a while, for I did not feel in the least sleepy, I stepped out +of the woods to the edge of the pasture. All around me lay the dark and +silent earth, and above the blue bowl of the sky, all glorious with +the blaze of a million worlds. Sometimes I have been oppressed by this +spectacle of utter space, of infinite distance, of forces too great for +me to grasp or understand, but that night it came upon me with fresh +wonder and power, and with a sense of great humility that I belonged +here too, that I was a part of it all--and would not be neglected or +forgotten. It seemed to me I never had a moment of greater faith than +that. + +And so, with a sense of satisfaction and peace, I returned to my fire. +As I sat there I could hear the curious noises of the woods, the little +droppings, cracklings, rustlings which seemed to make all the world +alive. I even fancied I could see small bright eyes looking out at my +fire, and once or twice I was almost sure I heard voices--whispering--, +perhaps the voices of the woods. + +Occasionally I added, with some amusement, a few dry pages of Montaigne +to the fire, and watched the cheerful blaze that followed. + +“No,” said I, “Montaigne is not for the open spaces and the stars. +Without a roof over his head Montaigne would--well, die of sneezing.” + +So I sat all night long there by the tree. Occasionally I dropped into a +light sleep, and then, as my fire died down, I grew chilly and awakened, +to build up the fire and doze again. I saw the first faint gray streaks +of dawn above the trees, I saw the pink glow in the east before the +sunrise, and I watched the sun himself rise upon a new day-- + +When I walked out into the meadow by daylight and looked about me +curiously, I saw, not forty rods away, the back of a barn. + + +“Be you the fellow that was daown in my cowpasture all night?” asked the +sturdy farmer. + +“I'm that fellow,” I said. + +“Why didn't you come right up to the house?” + +“Well--” I said, and then paused. + +“Well...” said I. + + + +CHAPTER VIII. THE HEDGE + +Strange, strange, how small the big world is! + +“Why didn't you come right into the house?” the sturdy farmer had asked +me when I came out of the meadow where I had spent the night under the +stars. + +“Well,” I said, turning the question as adroitly as I could, “I'll make +it up by going into the house now.” + +So I went with him into his fine, comfortable house. + +“This is my wife,” said he. + +A woman stood there facing me. “Oh!” she exclaimed, “Mr. Grayson!” + +I recalled swiftly a child--a child she seemed then--with braids down +her back, whom I had known when I first came to my farm. She had grown +up, married, and had borne three children, while I had been looking the +other way for a minute or two. She had not been in our neighborhood for +several years. + +“And how is your sister and Doctor McAlway?” + +Well, we had quite a wonderful visit, she made breakfast for me, asking +and talking eagerly as I ate. + +“We've just had news that old Mr. Toombs is dead.” + +“Dead!” I exclaimed, dropping my fork; “old Nathan Toombs!” + +“Yes, he was my uncle. Did you know him?” + +“I knew Nathan Toombs,” I said. + +I spent two days there with the Ransomes, for they would not hear of my +leaving, and half of our spare time, I think, was spent in discussing +Nathan Toombs. I was not able to get him out of my mind for days, for +his death was one of those events which prove so much and leave so much +unproven. + +I can recall vividly my astonishment at the first evidence I ever had of +the strange old man or of his work. It was not very long after I came +to my farm to live. I had taken to spending my spare evenings--the long +evenings of summer--in exploring the country roads for miles around, +getting acquainted with each farmstead, each bit of grove and meadow and +marsh, making my best bow to each unfamiliar hill, and taking everywhere +that toll of pleasure which comes of quiet discovery. + +One evening, having walked farther than usual, I came quite suddenly +around a turn in the road and saw stretching away before me an +extraordinary sight. + +I feel that I am conveying no adequate impression of what I beheld +by giving it any such prim and decorous name as--a Hedge. It was a +menagerie, a living, green menagerie! I had no sooner seen it than I +began puzzling my brain as to whether one of the curious ornaments into +which the upper part of the hedge had been clipped and trimmed was made +to represent the head of a horse, or a camel, or an Egyptian sphinx. + +The hedge was of arbor vitae and as high as a man's waist. At more or +less regular intervals the trees in it had been allowed to grow much +taller and had been wonderfully pruned into the similitude of towers, +pinnacles, bells, and many other strange designs. Here and there the +hedge held up a spindling umbrella of greenery, sometimes a double +umbrella--a little one above the big one--and over the gateway at the +centre; as a sort of final triumph, rose a grandiose arch of interlaced +branches upon which the artist had outdone himself in marvels of +ornamentation. + +I shall never forget the sensation of delight I had over this discovery, +or of how I walked, tiptoe, along the road in front, studying each of +the marvellous adornments. How eagerly, too, I looked over at the house +beyond--a rather bare, bleak house set on a slight knoll or elevation +and guarded at one corner by a dark spruce tree. At some distance +behind I saw a number of huge barns, a cattle yard and a silo--all the +evidences of prosperity--with well-nurtured fields, now yellowing with +the summer crops, spreading pleasantly away on every hand. + +It was nearly dark before I left that bit of roadside, and I shall never +forget the eerie impression I had as I turned back to take a final look +at the hedge, the strange, grotesque aspect it presented there in the +half light with the bare, lonely house rising from the knoll behind. + + +It was not until some weeks later that I met the owner of the wonderful +hedge. By that time, however, having learned of my interest, I found +the whole countryside alive with stories about it and about Old Nathan +Toombs, its owner. It was as though I had struck the rock of refreshment +in a weary land. + +I remember distinctly how puzzled was by the stories I heard. The +neighbourhood portrait--and ours is really a friendly neighbourhood--was +by no means flattering. Old Toombs was apparently of that type +of hard-shelled, grasping, self-reliant, old-fashioned farmer not +unfamiliar to many country neighbourhoods. He had come of tough old +American stock and he was a worker, a saver, and thus he had grown +rich, the richest farmer in the whole neighbourhood. He was a regular +individualistic American. + +“A dour man,” said the Scotch Preacher, “but just--you must admit that +he is just.” + +There was no man living about whom the Scotch Preacher could not find +something good to say. + +“Yes, just,” replied Horace, “but hard--hard, and as mean as pusley.” + +This portrait was true enough in itself, for I knew just the sort of an +aggressive, undoubtedly irritable old fellow it pictured, but somehow, +try as I would, I could not see any such old fellow wasting his moneyed +hours clipping bells, umbrellas, and camel's heads on his ornamental +greenery. It left just that incongruity which is at once the lure, +the humour, and the perplexity of human life. Instead of satisfying my +curiosity I was more anxious than ever to see Old Toombs with my own +eyes. + +But the weeks passed and somehow I did not meet him. He was a lonely, +unneighbourly old fellow. He had apparently come to fit into the +community without ever really becoming a part of it. His neighbours +accepted him as they accepted a hard hill in the town road. From time +to time he would foreclose a mortgage where he had loaned money to some +less thrifty farmer, or he would extend his acres by purchase, hard cash +down, or he would build a bigger barn. When any of these things happened +the community would crowd over a little, as it were, to give him more +room. It is a curious thing, and tragic, too, when you come to think of +it, how the world lets alone those people who appear to want to be let +alone. “I can live to myself,” says the unneighbourly one. “Well, live +to yourself, then,” cheerfully responds the world, and it goes about its +more or less amusing affairs and lets the unneighbourly one cut himself +off. + +So our small community had let Old Toombs go his way with all his money, +his acres, his hedge, and his reputation for being a just man. + +Not meeting him, therefore, in the familiar and friendly life of the +neighbourhood, I took to walking out toward his farm, looking freshly +at the wonderful hedge and musing upon that most fascinating of all +subjects--how men come to be what they are. And at last I was rewarded. + +One day I had scarcely reached the end of the hedge when I saw Old +Toombs himself, moving toward me down the country road. Though I had +never seen him before, I was at no loss to identify him. The first and +vital impression he gave me, if I can compress it into a single word, +was, I think, force--force. He came stubbing down the country road with +a brown hickory stick in his hand which at every step he set vigorously +into the soft earth. Though not tall, he gave the impression of being +enormously strong. He was thick, solid, firm--thick through the body, +thick through the thighs; and his shoulders--what shoulders they +were!--round like a maple log; and his great head with its thatching +of coarse iron-gray hair, though thrust slightly forward, seemed set +immovably upon them. + +He presented such a forbidding appearance that I was of two minds about +addressing him. Dour he was indeed! Nor shall I ever forget how he +looked when I spoke to him. He stopped short there in the road. On his +big square nose he wore a pair of curious spring-bowed glasses with +black rims. For a moment he looked at me through these glasses, raising +his chin a little, and then, deliberately wrinkling his nose, they fell +off and dangled at the length of the faded cord by which they were hung. +There was something almost uncanny about this peculiar habit of his and +of the way in which, afterward, he looked at me from under his bushy +gray brows. This was in truth the very man of the neighbourhood +portrait. + +“I am a new settler here,” I said, “and I've been interested in looking +at your wonderful hedge.” + +The old man's eyes rested upon me a moment with a mingled look of +suspicion and hostility. + +“So you've heard o' me,” he said in a high-pitched voice, “and you've +heard o' my hedge.” + +Again he paused and looked me over. “Well,” he said, with an +indescribably harsh, cackling laugh, “I warrant you've heard nothing +good o' me down there. I'm a skinflint, ain't I? I'm a hard citizen, +ain't I? I grind the faces o' the poor, don't I?” + +At first his words were marked by a sort of bitter humour, but as +he continued to speak his voice rose higher and higher until it was +positively menacing. + +There were just two things I could do--haul down the flag and retreat +ingloriously, or face the music. With a sudden sense of rising +spirits--for such things do not often happen to a man in a quiet country +road--I paused a moment, looking him square in the eye. + +“Yes,” I said, with great deliberation, “you've given me just about the +neighborhood picture of yourself as I have had it. They do say you are +a skinflint, yes, and a hard man. They say that you are rich and +friendless; they say that while you are a just man, you do not know +mercy. These are terrible things to say of any man if they are true.” + +I paused. The old man looked for a moment as though he were going to +strike me with his stick, but he neither stirred nor spoke. It was +evidently a wholly new experience for him. + +“Yes,” I said, “you are not popular in this community, but what do +you suppose I care about that? I'm interested in your hedge. What I'm +curious to know--and I might as well tell you frankly--is how such a +man as you are reputed to be could grow such an extraordinary hedge. You +must have been at it a very long time.” + +I was surprised at the effect of my words. The old man turned +partly aside and looked for a moment along the proud and flaunting +embattlements of the green marvel before us. Then he said in a moderate +voice: + +“It's a putty good hedge, a putty good hedge.” + +“I've got him,” I thought exultantly, “I've got him!” + +“How long ago did you start it?” I pursued my advantage eagerly. + +“Thirty-two years come spring,” said he. + +“Thirty-two years!” I repeated; “you've been at it a long time.” + +With that I plied him with questions in the liveliest manner, and in +five minutes I had the gruff old fellow stumping along at my side and +pointing out the various notable-features of his wonderful creation. +His suppressed excitement was quite wonderful to see. He would point his +hickory stick with a poking motion, and, when he looked up, instead of +throwing back his big, rough head, he bent at the hips, thus imparting +an impression of astonishing solidity. + +“It took me all o' ten years to get that bell right,” he said, and, +“Take a look at that arch: now what is your opinion o' that?” + +Once, in the midst of our conversation, he checked himself abruptly and +looked around at me with a sudden dark expression of suspicion. I saw +exactly what lay in his mind, but I continued my questioning as though +I perceived no change in him. It was only momentary, however, and he was +soon as much interested as before. He talked as though he had not had +such an opportunity before in years--and I doubt whether he had. It +was plain to see that if any one ever loved anything in this world, Old +Toombs loved that hedge of his. Think of it, indeed! He had lived with +it, nurtured it, clipped it, groomed it--for thirty-two years. + +So we walked down the sloping field within the hedge, and it seemed +as though one of the deep mysteries of human nature was opening there +before me. What strange things men set their hearts upon! + +Thus, presently, we came nearly to the farther end of the hedge. Here +the old man stopped and turned around, facing me. + +“Do you see that valley?” he asked. “Do you see that slopin' valley up +through the meadow?” + +His voice rose suddenly to a sort of high-pitched violence. + +“That' passel o' hounds up there,” he said, “want to build a road down +my valley.” + +He drew his breath fiercely. + +“They want to build a road through my land. They want to ruin my +farm--they want to cut down my hedge. I'll fight 'em. I'll fight 'em. +I'll show 'em yet!” + +It was appalling. His face grew purple, his eyes narrowed to pin points +and grew red and angry--like the eyes of an infuriated boar. His hands +shook. Suddenly he turned upon me, poising his stick in his hand, and +said violently. + +“And who are you? Who are you? Are you one of these surveyor fellows?” + +“My name,” I answered as quietly as I could, “is Grayson. I live on the +old Mather farm. I am not in the least interested in any of your road +troubles.” + +He looked at me a moment more, and then seemed to shake himself or +shudder, his eyes dropped away and he began walking toward his house. +He had taken only a few steps, however, before he turned, and, without +looking at me, asked if I would like to see the tools he used for +trimming his hedge. When I hesitated, for I was decidedly uncomfortable, +he came up to me and laid his hand awkwardly on my arm. + +“You'll see something, I warrant, you never see before.” + +It was so evident that he regretted his outbreak that I followed him, +and he showed me an odd double ladder set on low wheels which he said he +used in trimming the higher parts of his hedge. + +“It's my own invention,” he said with pride. + +“And that”--he pointed as we came out of the tool shed--“is my house--a +good house. I planned it all myself. I never needed to take lessons of +any carpenter I ever see. And there's my barns. What do you think o' my +barns? Ever see any bigger ones? They ain't any bigger in this country +than Old Toombs's barns. They don't like Old Toombs, but they ain't any +of one of 'em can ekal his barns!” + +He followed me down to the roadside now quite loquacious. Even after I +had thanked him and started to go he called after me. + +When I stopped he came forward hesitatingly--and I had the impressions, +suddenly, and for the first time that he was an old man. It may have +been the result of his sudden fierce explosion of anger, but his hand +shook, his face was pale, and he seemed somehow broken. + +“You--you like my hedge?” he asked. + +“It is certainly wonderful hedge,” I said. “I never have seen anything +like it?” + +“The' AIN'T nothing like it,” he responded, quickly. “The' ain't nothing +like it anywhere.” + +In the twilight as I passed onward I saw the lonely figure of the old +man moving with his hickory stick up the pathway to his lonely house. +The poor rich old man! + +“He thinks he can live wholly to himself,” I said aloud. + +I thought, as I tramped homeward, of our friendly and kindly community, +of how we often come together of an evening with skylarking and +laughter, of how we weep with one another, of how we join in making +better roads and better schools, and building up the Scotch Preacher's +friendly little church. And in all these things Old Toombs has never had +a part. He is not even missed. + + +As a matter of fact, I reflected, and this is a strange, deep thing, no +man is in reality more dependent upon the community which he despises +and holds at arm's length than this same Old Nathan Toombs. Everything +he has, everything he does, gives evidence of it. And I don't mean this +in any mere material sense, though of course his wealth and his farm +would mean no more than the stones in his hills to him if he did not +have us here around him. Without our work, our buying, our selling, our +governing, his dollars would be dust. But we are still more necessary +to him in other ways: the unfriendly man is usually the one who +demands most from his neighbours. Thus, if he have not people's love or +confidence, then he will smite them until they fear him, or admire him, +or hate him. Oh, no man, however may try, can hold himself aloof! + +I came home deeply stirred from my visit with Old Toombs and lost no +time in making further inquiries. I learned, speedily, that there was +indeed something in the old man's dread of a road being built through +his farm. The case was already in the courts. His farm was a very old +one and extensive, and of recent years a large settlement of small +farmers had been developing the rougher lands in the upper part of the +townships called the Swan Hill district. Their only way to reach the +railroad was by a rocky, winding road among the 'hills,' while their +outlet was down a gently sloping valley through Old Toombs's farm. They +were now so numerous and politically important that they had stirred up +the town authorities. A proposition had been made to Old Toombs for +a right-of-way; they argued with him that it was a good thing for the +whole country, that it would enhance the values of his own upper lands, +and that they would pay him far more for a right-of-way than the land +was actually worth, but he had spurned them--I can imagine with what +vehemence. + +“Let 'em drive round,” he said. “Didn't they know what they'd have to do +when they settled up there? What a passel o' curs! They can keep off o' +my land, or I'll have the law on 'em.” + +And thus the matter came to the courts with the town attempting to +condemn the land for a road through Old Toombs's farm. + +“What can we do?” asked the Scotch Preacher, who was deeply distressed +by the bitterness of feeling displayed. “There is no getting to the man. +He will listen to no one.” + +At one time I thought of going over and talking with Old Toombs myself, +for it seemed that I had been able to get nearer to him than any one +had in a long time. But I dreaded it. I kept dallying--for what, indeed, +could I have said to him? If he had been suspicious of me before, +how much more hostile he might be when I expressed an interest in his +difficulties. As to reaching the Swan Hill settlers, they were now +aroused to an implacable state of bitterness; and they had the people of +the whole community with them, for no one liked Old Toombs. + +Thus while I hesitated time passed and my next meeting with Old Toombs, +instead of being premeditated, came about quite unexpectedly. I was +walking in the town road late one afternoon when I heard a wagon +rattling behind me, and then, quite suddenly, a shouted, “Whoa.” + +Looking around, I saw Old Toombs, his great solid figure mounted high +on the wagon seat, the reins held fast in the fingers of one hand. I was +struck by the strange expression in his face--a sort of grim exaltation. +As I stepped aside he burst out in a loud, shrill, cackling laugh: + +“He-he-he--he-he-he--” + +I was too astonished to speak at once. Ordinarily when I meet any one in +the town road it is in my heart to cry out to him, + +“Good morning, friend,” or, “How are you, brother?” but I had no such +prompting that day. + +“Git in, Grayson,” he said; “git in, git in.” + +I climbed up beside him, and he slapped me on the knee with another +burst of shrill laughter. + +“They thought they had the old man,” he said, starting up his horses. +“They thought there weren't no law left in Israel. I showed 'em.” + +I cannot convey the bitter triumphancy of his voice. + +“You mean the road case?” I asked. + +“Road case!” he exploded, “they wan't no road case; they didn't have no +road case. I beat 'em. I says to 'em, 'What right hev any o' you on +my property? Go round with you,' I says. Oh, I beat 'em. If they'd had +their way, they'd 'a' cut through my hedge--the hounds!” + + +When he set me down at my door, I had said hardly a word. There seemed +nothing that could be said. I remember I stood for some time watching +the old man as he rode away, his wagon jolting in the country road, +his stout figure perched firmly in the seat. I went in with a sense of +heaviness at the heart. + +“Harriet,” I said, “there are some things in this world beyond human +remedy.” + +Two evenings later I was surprised to see the Scotch Preacher drive up +to my gate and hastily tie his horse. + +“David,” said he, “there's bad business afoot. A lot of the young +fellows in Swan Hill are planning a raid on Old Toombs's hedge. They are +coming down to-night.” + +I got my hat and jumped in with him. We drove up the hilly road and out +around Old Toombs's farm and thus came, near to the settlement. I had no +conception of the bitterness that the lawsuit had engendered. + +“Where once you start men hating one another,” said the Scotch Preacher, +“there's utterly no end of it.” + +I have seen our Scotch Preacher in many difficult places, but never have +I seen him rise to greater heights than he did that night. It is not in +his preaching that Doctor McAlway excels, but what a power he is among +men! He was like some stern old giant, standing there and holding up the +portals of civilization. I saw men melt under his words like wax; I saw +wild young fellows subdued into quietude; I saw unwise old men set to +thinking. + +“Man, man,” he'd say, lapsing in his earnestness into the broad Scotch +accent of his youth, “you canna' mean plunder, and destruction, and +riot! You canna! Not in this neighbourhood!” + +“What about Old Toombs?” shouted one of the boys. + +I never shall forget how Doctor McAlway drew himself up nor the majesty +that looked from his eye. + +“Old Toombs!” he said in a voice that thrilled one to the bone, “Old +Toombs! Have you no faith, that you stand in the place of Almighty God +and measure punishments?” + +Before we left it was past midnight and we drove home, almost silent, in +the darkness. + +“Doctor McAlway,” I said, “if Old Toombs could know the history of this +night it might change his point of view.” + +“I doot it,” said the Scotch Preacher. “I doot it.” + +The night passed serenely; the morning saw Old Toombs's hedge standing +as gorgeous as ever. The community had again stepped aside and let Old +Toombs have his way: they had let him alone, with all his great barns, +his wide acres and his wonderful hedge. He probably never even knew what +had threatened him that night, nor how the forces of religion, of social +order, of neighbourliness in the community which he despised had, after +all, held him safe. There is a supreme faith among common people--it is, +indeed, the very taproot of democracy--that although the unfriendly one +may persist long in his power and arrogance, there is a moving Force +which commands events. + +I suppose if I were writing a mere story I should tell how Old Toombs +was miraculously softened at the age of sixty-eight years, and came into +new relationships with his neighbours, or else I should relate how the +mills of God, grinding slowly, had crushed the recalcitrant human atom +into dust. + +Either of these results conceivably might have happened--all things are +possible--and being ingeniously related would somehow have answered +a need in the human soul that the logic of events be constantly and +conclusively demonstrated in the lives of individual men and women. + +But as a matter of fact, neither of these things did happen in this +quiet community of ours. There exists, assuredly, a logic of events, oh, +a terrible, irresistible logic of events, but it is careless of the span +of any one man's life. We would like to have each man enjoy the sweets +of his own virtues and suffer the lash of his own misdeeds--but it +rarely so happens in life. No, it is the community which lives or dies, +is regenerated or marred by the deeds of men. + +So Old Toombs continued to live. So he continued to buy more land, raise +more cattle, collect more interest, and the wonderful hedge continued +to flaunt its marvels still more notably upon the country road. To what +end? Who knows? Who knows? + +I saw him afterward from time to time, tried to maintain some sort of +friendly relations with him; but it seemed as the years passed that he +grew ever lonelier and more bitter, and not only more friendless, but +seemingly more incapable of friendliness. In times past I have seen +what men call tragedies--I saw once a perfect young man die in his +strength--but it seems to me I never knew anything more tragic than the +life and death of Old Toombs. If it cannot be said of a man when he dies +that either his nation, his state, his neighborhood, his family, or at +least his wife or child, is better for his having lived, what CAN be +said for him? + +Old Toombs is dead. Like Jehoram, King of Judah, of whom it is terribly +said in the Book of Chronicles, “he departed without being desired.” + +Of this story of Nathan Toombs we talked much and long there in the +Ransome home. I was with them, as I said, about two days--kept inside +most of the time by a driving spring rain which filled the valley with +a pale gray mist and turned all the country roads into running streams. +One morning, the weather having cleared, I swung my bag to my shoulder, +and with much warmth of parting I set my face again to the free road and +the open country. + + + +CHAPTER IX. THE MAN POSSESSED + +I suppose I was predestined (and likewise foreordained) to reach the +city sooner or later. My fate in that respect was settled for me when +I placed my trust in the vagrant road. I thought for a time that I was +more than a match for the Road, but I soon learned that the Road +was more than a match for me. Sly? There's no name for it. Alluring, +lovable, mysterious--as the heart of a woman. Many a time I followed +the Road where it led through innocent meadows or climbed leisurely hill +slopes only to find that it had crept around slyly and led me before I +knew it into the back door of some busy town. + +Mostly in this country the towns squat low in the valleys, they lie in +wait by the rivers, and often I scarcely know of their presence until +I am so close upon them that I can smell the breath of their heated +nostrils and hear their low growlings and grumblings. + +My fear of these lesser towns has never been profound. I have even been +bold enough, when I came across one of them, to hasten straight through +as though assured that Cerberus was securely chained; but I found, +after a time, what I might indeed have guessed, that the Road, also led +irresistibly to the lair of the Old Monster himself, the He-one of the +species, where he lies upon the plain, lolling under his soiled gray +blanket of smoke. + +It is wonderful to be safe at home again, to watch the tender, reddish +brown shoots of the Virginia creeper reaching in at my study window, to +see the green of my own quiet fields, to hear the peaceful clucking of +the hens in the sunny dooryard--and Harriet humming at her work in the +kitchen. + + +When I left the Ransomes that fine spring morning, I had not the +slightest presentiment of what the world held in store for me. After +being a prisoner of the weather for so long, I took to the Road with +fresh joy. All the fields were of a misty greenness and there were pools +still shining in the road, but the air was deliciously clear, clean, +and soft. I came through the hill country for three or four miles, even +running down some of the steeper places for the very joy the motion gave +me, the feel of the air on my face. + +Thus I came finally to the Great Road, and stood for a moment looking +first this way, then that. + +“Where now?” I asked aloud. + +With an amusing sense of the possibilities that lay open before me, I +closed my eyes, turned slowly around several times and then stopped. +When I opened my eyes I was facing nearly southward: and that way I set +out, not knowing in the least what Fortune had presided at that turning. +If I had gone the other way-- + +I walked vigorously for two or three hours, meeting or passing many +people upon the busy road. Automobiles there were in plenty, and loaded +wagons, and jolly families off for town, and a herdsman driving sheep, +and small boys on their way to school with their dinner pails, and a +gypsy wagon with lean, led horses following behind, and even a Jewish +peddler with a crinkly black beard, whom I was on the very point of +stopping. + +“I should like sometime to know a Jew,” I said to myself. + +As I travelled, feeling like one who possesses hidden riches, I came +quite without warning upon the beginning of my great adventure. I had +been looking for a certain thing all the morning, first on one side +of the road, then the other, and finally I was rewarded. There it was, +nailed high upon tree, the curious, familiar sign: + +[ REST ] + +I stopped instantly. It seemed like an old friend. + +“Well,” said I. “I'm not at all tired, but I want to be agreeable.” + +With that I sat down on a convenient stone, took off my hat, wiped my +forehead, and looked about me with satisfaction, for it was a pleasant +country. + +I had not been sitting there above two minutes when my eyes fell upon +one of the oddest specimens of humanity (I thought then) that ever I +saw. He had been standing near the roadside, just under the tree upon +which I had seen the sign, “Rest.” My heart dotted and carried one. + +“The sign man himself!” I exclaimed. + +I arose instantly and walked down the road toward him. + +“A man has only to stop anywhere here,” I said exultantly, “and things +happen.” + +The stranger's appearance was indeed extraordinary. He seemed at first +glimpse to be about twice as large around the hips as he was at +the shoulders, but this I soon discovered to be due to no natural +avoir-dupois but to the prodigious number of soiled newspapers and +magazines with which the low-hanging pockets of his overcoat were +stuffed. For he was still wearing an old shabby overcoat though the +weather was warm and bright--and on his head was an odd and outlandish +hat. It was of fur, flat at the top, flat as a pie tin, with the +moth-eaten earlaps turned up at the sides and looking exactly like small +furry ears. These, with the round steel spectacles which he wore--the +only distinctive feature of his countenance--gave him an indescribably +droll appearance. + +“A fox!” I thought. + +Then I looked at him more closely. + +“No,” said I, “an owl, an owl!” + +The stranger stepped out into the road and evidently awaited my +approach. My first vivid impression of his face--I remember it afterward +shining with a strange inward illumination--was not favourable. It was a +deep-lined, scarred, worn-looking face, insignificant if not indeed ugly +in its features, and yet, even at the first glance, revealing something +inexplainable--incalculable-- + +“Good day, friend,” I said heartily. + +Without replying to my greeting, he asked: + +“Is this the road to Kilburn?”--with a faint flavour of foreignness in +his words. + +“I think it is,” I replied, and I noticed as he lifted his hand to thank +me that one finger was missing and that the hand itself was cruelly +twisted and scarred. + +The stranger instantly set off up the Road without giving me much more +attention than he would have given any other signpost. I stood a moment +looking after him--the wings of his overcoat beating about his legs and +the small furry ears on his cap wagging gently. + +“There,” said I aloud, “is a man who is actually going somewhere.” + +So many men in this world are going nowhere in particular that when one +comes along--even though he be amusing and insignificant--who is really +(and passionately) going somewhere, what a stir he communicates to a +dull world! We catch sparks of electricity from the very friction of his +passage. + +It was so with this odd stranger. Though at one moment I could not help +smiling at him, at the next I was following him. + +“It may be,” said I to myself, “that this is really the sign man!” + +I felt like Captain Kidd under full sail to capture a treasure ship; and +as I approached I was much agitated as to the best method of grappling +and boarding. I finally decided, being a lover of bold methods, to let +go my largest gun first--for moral effect. + +“So,” said I, as I ran alongside, “you are the man who puts up the +signs.” + +He stopped and looked at me. + +“What signs?” + +“Why the sign 'Rest' along this road.” + +He paused for some seconds with a perplexed expression on his face. + +“Then you are not the sign man?” I said. + +“No,” he replied, “I ain't any sign man.” + +I was not a little disappointed, but having made my attack, I determined +to see if there was any treasure aboard--which, I suppose, should be the +procedure of any well-regulated pirate. + +“I'm going this way myself,” I said, “and if you have no objections--” + +He stood looking at me curiously, indeed suspiciously, through his round +spectacles. + +“Have you got the passport?” he asked finally. + +“The passport!” I exclaimed, mystified in my turn. + +“Yes,” said he, “the passport. Let me see your hand.” + +When I held out my hand he looked at it closely for a moment, and then +took it with a quick warm pressure in one of his, and gave it a little +shake, in a way not quite American. + +“You are one of us,” said he, “you work.” + +I thought at first that it was a bit of pleasantry, and I was about +to return it in kind when I saw plainly in his face a look of solemn +intent. + +“So,” he said, “we shall travel like comrades.” + +He thrust his scarred hand through my arm, and we walked up the road +side by side, his bulging pockets beating first against his legs and +then against mine, quite impartially. + +“I think,” said the stranger, “that we shall be arrested at Kilburn.” + +“We shall!” I exclaimed with something, I admit, of a shock. + +“Yes,” he said, “but it is all in the day's work.” + +“How is that?” + +He stopped in the road and faced me. Throwing back his overcoat he +pointed to a small red button on his coat lapel. + +“They don't want me in Kilburn,” said he, “the mill men are strikin' +there, and the bosses have got armed men on every corner. Oh, the +capitalists are watchin' for me, all right.” + +I cannot convey the strange excitement I felt. It seemed as though these +words suddenly opened a whole new world around me--a world I had heard +about for years, but never entered. And the tone in which he had used +the word “capitalist!” I had almost to glance around to make sure that +there were no ravening capitalists hiding behind the trees. + +“So you are a Socialist,” I said. + +“Yes,” he answered. “I'm one of those dangerous persons.” + +First and last I have read much of Socialism, and thought about it, too, +from the quiet angle of my farm among the hills, but this was the first +time I had ever had a live Socialist on my arm. I could not have been +more surprised if the stranger had said, “Yes, I am Theodore Roosevelt.” + +One of the discoveries we keep making all our life long (provided we +remain humble) is the humorous discovery of the ordinariness of the +extraordinary. Here was this disrupter of society, this man of the +red flag--here he was with his mild spectacled eyes and his furry ears +wagging as he walked. It was unbelievable!--and the sun shining on him +quite as impartially as it shone on me. + +Coming at last to a pleasant bit of woodland, where a stream ran under +the roadway, I said: + +“Stranger, let's sit down and have a bite of luncheon.” + +He began to expostulate, said he was expected in Kilburn. + +“Oh, I've plenty for two,” I said, “and I can say, at least, that I am a +firm believer in cooperation.” + +Without more urging he followed me into the woods, where we sat down +comfortably under a tree. + +Now, when I take a fine thick sandwich out of my bag, I always feel like +making it a polite bow, and before I bite into a big brown doughnut, I +am tempted to say, “By your leave, madam,” and as for MINCE PIE-----Beau +Brummel himself could not outdo me in respectful consideration. But +Bill Hahn neither saw, nor smelled, nor, I think, tasted Mrs. Ransome's +cookery. As soon as we sat down he began talking. From time to time +he would reach out for another sandwich or doughnut or pickle (without +knowing in the least which he was getting), and when that was gone some +reflex impulse caused him to reach out for some more. When the last +crumb of our lunch had disappeared Bill Hahn still reached out. His hand +groped absently about, and coming in contact with no more doughnuts or +pickles he withdrew it--and did not know, I think, that the meal was +finished. (Confidentially, I have speculated on what might have happened +if the supply had been unlimited!) + +But that was Bill Hahn. Once started on his talk, he never thought of +food or clothing or shelter; but his eyes glowed, his face lighted up +with a strange effulgence, and he quite lost himself upon the tide of +his own oratory. I saw him afterward by a flare-light at the centre of a +great crowd of men and women--but that is getting ahead of my story. + +His talk bristled with such words as “capitalism,” “proletariat,” + “class-consciousness”--and he spoke with fluency of “economic +determinism” and “syndicalism.” It was quite wonderful! And from time to +time, he would bring in a smashing quotation from Aristotle, Napoleon, +Karl Marx, or Eugene V. Debs, giving them all equal value, and he cited +statistics!--oh, marvellous statistics, that never were on sea or land. + +Once he was so swept away by his own eloquence that he sprang to his +feet and, raising one hand high above his head (quite unconscious that +he was holding up a dill pickle), he worked through one of his most +thrilling periods. + +Yes, I laughed, and yet there was so brave a simplicity about this odd, +absurd little man that what I laughed at was only his outward appearance +(and that he himself had no care for), and all the time I felt a growing +respect and admiration for him. He was not only sincere, but he was +genuinely simple--a much higher virtue, as Fenelon says. For while +sincere people do not aim at appearing anything but what they are, +they are always in fear of passing for something they are not. They are +forever thinking about themselves, weighing all their words and thoughts +and dwelling upon what they have done, in the fear of having done +too much or too little, whereas simplicity, as Fenelon says, is an +uprightness of soul which has ceased wholly to dwell upon itself or its +actions. Thus there are plenty of sincere folk in the world but few who +are simple. + +Well, the longer he talked, the less interested I was in what he said +and the more fascinated I became in what he was. I felt a wistful +interest in him: and I wanted to know what way he took to purge himself +of himself. I think if I had been in that group nineteen hundred years +ago, which surrounded the beggar who was born blind, but whose anointed +eyes now looked out upon glories of the world, I should have been among +the questioners: + +“What did he to thee? How opened he thine eyes?” + +I tried ineffectually several times to break the swift current of his +oratory and finally succeeded (when he paused a moment to finish off a +bit of pie crust). + +“You must have seen some hard experiences in your life,” I said. + +“That I have,” responded Bill Hahn, “the capitalistic system--” + +“Did you ever work in the mills yourself?” I interrupted hastily. + +“Boy and man,” said Bill Hahn, “I worked in that hell for thirty-two +years--The class-conscious proletariat have only to exert themselves--” + +“And your wife, did she work too--and your sons and daughters?” + +A spasm of pain crossed his face. + +“My daughter?” he said. “They killed her in the mills.” + +It was appalling--the dead level of the tone in which he uttered those +words--the monotone of an emotion long ago burned out, and yet leaving +frightful scars. + +“My friend!” I exclaimed, and I could not help laying my hand on his +arm. + +I had the feeling I often have with troubled children--an indescribable +pity that they have had to pass through the valley of the shadow, and I +not there to take them by the hand. + +“And was this--your daughter--what brought you to your present belief?” + +“No,” said he, “oh, no. I was a Socialist, as you might say, from youth +up. That is, I called myself a Socialist, but, comrade, I've learned +this here truth: that it ain't of so much importance that you possess a +belief, as that the belief possess you. Do you understand?” + +“I think,” said I, “that I understand.” + +Well, he told me his story, mostly in a curious, dull, detached way--as +though he were speaking of some third person in whom he felt only a +brotherly interest, but from time to time some incident or observation +would flame up out of the narrative, like the opening of the door of a +molten pit--so that the glare hurt one!--and then the story would die +back again into quiet narrative. + +Like most working people he had never lived in the twentieth century at +all. He was still in the feudal age, and his whole life had been a blind +and ceaseless struggle for the bare necessaries of life, broken from +time to time by fierce irregular wars called strikes. He had never known +anything of a real self-governing commonwealth, and such progress as +he and his kind had made was never the result of their citizenship, +of their powers as voters, but grew out of the explosive and ragged +upheavals, of their own half-organized societies and unions. + +It was against the “black people” he said, that he was first on strike +back in the early nineties. He told me all about it, how he had been +working in the mills pretty comfortably--he was young and strong then; +with a fine growing family and a small home of his own. + +“It was as pretty a place as you would want to see,” he said; “we grew +cabbages and onions and turnips--everything grew fine!--in the garden +behind the house.” + +And then the “black people” began to come in, little by little at first, +and then by the carload. By the “black people” he meant the people +from Southern Europe, he called them “hordes”--“hordes and hordes +of 'em”--Italians mostly, and they began getting into the mills and +underbidding for the jobs, so that wages slowly went down and at the +same time the machines were speeded up. It seems that many of these +“black people” were single men or vigorous young married people with +only themselves to support, while the old American workers were men with +families and little homes to pay for, and plenty of old grandfathers and +mothers, to say nothing of babies, depending upon them. + +“There wasn't a living for a decent family left,” he said. + +So they struck--and he told me in his dull monotone of the long +bitterness of that strike, the empty cupboards, the approach of winter +with no coal for the stoves and no warm clothing for the children. He +told me that many of the old workers began to leave the town (some bound +for the larger cities, some for the Far West). + +“But,” said he with a sudden outburst of emotion, “I couldn't leave. I +had the woman and the children!” + +And presently the strike collapsed, and the workers rushed helter +skelter back to the mills to get their old jobs. “Begging like whipped +dogs,” he said bitterly. + +Many of them found their places taken by the eager “black people,” and +many had to go to work at lower wages in poorer places--punished for the +fight they had made. + +But he got along somehow, he said--“the woman was a good manager”--until +one day he had the misfortune to get his hand caught in the machinery. +It was a place which should have been protected with guards, but was +not. He was laid up for several weeks, and the company, claiming that +the accident was due to his own stupidity and carelessness, refused +even to pay his wages while he was idle. Well, the family had to live +somehow, and the woman and the daughter--“she was a little thing,” he +said, “and frail”--the woman and the daughter went into the mill. But +even with this new source of income they began to fall behind. Money +which should have gone toward making the last payments on their home +(already long delayed by the strike) had now to go to the doctor and the +grocer. + +“We had to live,” said Bill Hahn. + +Again and again he used this same phrase, “We had to live!” as a sort of +bedrock explanation for all the woes of life. + +After a time, with one finger gone and a frightfully scarred hand--he +held it up for me to see--he went back into the mill. + +“But it kept getting worse and worse,” said he, “and finally I couldn't +stand it any longer.” + +He and a group of friends got together secretly and tried to organize a +union, tried to get the workmen together to improve their own condition; +but in some way (“they had spies everywhere,” he said) the manager +learned of the attempt and one morning when he reported at the mill he +was handed a slip asking him to call for his wages, that his help was no +longer required. + +“I'd been with that one company for twenty years and four months,” he +said bitterly, “I'd helped in my small way to build it up, make it a big +concern payin' 28 per cent. dividends every year; I'd given part of my +right hand in doin' it--and they threw me out like an old shoe.” + +He said he would have pulled up and gone away, but he still had the +little home and the garden, and his wife and daughter were still at +work, so he hung on grimly, trying to get some other job. “But what good +is a man for any other sort of work,” he said, “when he has been trained +to the mills for thirty-two years!” + +It was not very long after that when the “great strike” began--indeed, +it grew out of the organization which he had tried to launched--and +Bill Hahn threw himself into it with all his strength. He was one of +the leaders. I shall not attempt to repeat here his description of the +bitter struggle, the coming of the soldiery, the street riots, the long +lists of arrests (“some,” said he, “got into jail on purpose, so +that they could at least have enough to eat!”), the late meetings of +strikers, the wild turmoil and excitement. + +Of all this he told me, and then he stopped suddenly, and after a long +pause he said in a low voice: + +“Comrade, did ye ever see your wife and your sickly daughter and your +kids sufferin' for bread to eat?” + +He paused again with a hard, dry sob in his voice. + +“Did ye ever see that?” + +“No,” said I, very humbly, “I have never seen anything like that.” + +He turned on me suddenly, and I shall never forget the look on his face, +nor the blaze in his eyes: + +“Then what can you know about working-men?” + +What could I answer? + +A moment passed and then he said, as if a little remorseful at having +turned thus on me: + +“Comrade, I tell you, the iron entered my soul--them days.” + +It seems that the leaders of the strike were mostly old employees like +Bill Hahn, and the company had conceived the idea that if these men +could be eliminated the organization would collapse, and the strikers be +forced back to work. One day Bill Hahn found that proceedings had been +started to turn him out of his home, upon which he had not been able to +keep up his payments, and at the same time the merchant, of whom he had +been a respected customer for years, refused to give him any further +credit. + +“But we lived somehow,” he said, “we lived and we fought.” + +It was then that he began to see clearly what it all meant. He said he +made a great discovery: that the “black people” against whom they had +struck in 1894 were not to blame! + +“I tell you,” said he, “we found when we got started that them black +people--we used to call 'em dagoes--were just workin' people like +us--and in hell with us. They were good soldiers, them Eyetalians and +Poles and Syrians, they fought with us to the end.” + +I shall not soon forget the intensely dramatic but perfectly simple way +in which he told me how he came, as he said, “to see the true light.” + Holding up his maimed right hand (that trembled a little), he pointed +one finger upward. + +“I seen the big hand in the sky,” he said, “I seen it as clear as +daylight.” + +He said he saw at last what Socialism meant. One day he went home from a +strikers' meeting--one of the last, for the men were worn out with +their long struggle. It was a bitter cold day, and he was completely +discouraged. When he reached his own street he saw a pile of household +goods on the sidewalk in front of his home. He saw his wife there +wringing her hands and crying. He said he could not take a step further, +but sat down on a neighbour's porch and looked and looked. “It was +curious,” he said, “but the only thing I could see or think about was +our old family clock which they had stuck on top of the pile, half +tipped over. It looked odd and I wanted to set it up straight. It was +the clock we bought when we were married, and we'd had it about twenty +years on the mantel in the livin'-room. It was a good clock,” he said. + +He paused and then smiled a little. + +“I never have figured it out why I should have been able to think of +nothing but that clock,” he said, “but so it was.” + +When he got home, he found his frail daughter just coming out of the +empty house, “coughing as though she was dyin'.” Something, he said, +seemed to stop inside him. Those were his words: “Something seemed to +stop inside 'o me.” + +He turned away without saying a word, walked back to strike +headquarters, borrowed a revolver from a friend, and started out along +the main road which led into the better part of the town. + +“Did you ever hear o' Robert Winter?” he asked. + +“No,” said I. + +“Well, Robert Winter was the biggest gun of 'em all. He owned the mills +there and the largest store and the newspaper--he pretty nearly owned +the town.” + +He told me much more about Robert Winter which betrayed still a curious +sort of feudal admiration for him, and for his great place and power; +but I need not dwell on it here. He told me how he climbed through a +hemlock hedge (for the stone gateway was guarded) and walked through the +snow toward the great house. + +“An' all the time I seemed to be seein' my daughter Margy right there +before my eyes coughing as though she was dyin'.” + +It was just nightfall and all the windows were alight. He crept up to a +clump of bushes under a window and waited there a moment while he drew +out and cocked his revolver. Then he slowly reached upward until his +head cleared the sill and he could look into the room. “A big, warm +room,” he described it. + +“Comrade,” said he, “I had murder in my heart that night.” + +So he stood there looking in with the revolver ready cocked in his hand. + +“And what do you think I seen there?” he asked. + +“I cannot guess,” I said. + +“Well,” said Bill Hahn, “I seen the great Robert Winter that we had been +fighting for five long months--and he was down on his hands and knees on +the carpet--he had his little daughter on his back--and he was creepin' +about with her--an' she was laughin'.” + +Bill Hahn paused. + +“I had a bead on him,” he said, “but I couldn't do it--I just couldn't +do it.” + +He came away all weak and trembling and cold, and, “Comrade,” he said, +“I was cryin' like a baby, and didn't know why.” + +The next day the strike collapsed and there was the familiar stampede +for work--but Bill Hahn did not go back. He knew it would be useless. A +week later his frail daughter died and was buried in the paupers field. + +“She was as truly killed,” he said, “as though some one had fired a +bullet at her through a window.” + +“And what did you do after that?” I asked, when he had paused for a long +time with his chin on his breast. + +“Well,” said he, “I did a lot of thinking them days, and I says to +myself: 'This thing is wrong, and I will go out and stop it--I will go +out and stop it.'” + +As he uttered these words, I looked at him curiously--his absurd flat +fur hat with the moth-eaten ears, the old bulging overcoat, the +round spectacles, the scarred, insignificant face--he seemed somehow +transformed, a person elevated above himself, the tool of some vast +incalculable force. + +I shall never forget the phrase he used to describe his own feelings +when he had reached this astonishing decision to go out and stop the +wrongs of the World. He said he “began to feel all clean inside.” + +“I see it didn't matter what become o' me, and I began to feel all clean +inside.” + +It seemed, he explained, as though something big and strong had got hold +of him, and he began to be happy. + +“Since then,” he said in a low voice, “I've been happier than I ever +was before in all my life. I ain't got any family, nor any home--rightly +speakin'--nor any money, but, comrade, you see here in front of you, a +happy man.” + +When he had finished his story we sat quiet for some time. + +“Well,” said he, finally, “I must be goin'. The committee will wonder +what's become o' me.” + +I followed him out to the road. There I put my hand on his shoulder, and +said: + +“Bill Hahn, you are a better man than I am.” + +He smiled, a beautiful smile, and we walked off together down the road. + +I wish I had gone on with him at that time into the city, but somehow I +could not do it. I stopped near the top of the hill where one can see in +the distance that smoky huddle of buildings which is known as Kilburn, +and though he urged me, I turned aside and sat down in the edge of a +meadow. There were many things I wanted to think about, to get clear in +my mind. + +As I sat looking out toward that great city, I saw three men walking +in the white road. As I watched them, I could see them coming quickly, +eagerly. Presently they threw up their hands and evidently began to +shout, though I could not hear what they said. At that moment I saw my +friend Bill Hahn running in the road, his coat skirts flapping heavily +about his legs. When they met they almost fell into another's arms. + +I suppose it was so that the early Christians, those who hid in the +Roman catacombs, were wont to greet one another. + + +So I sat thinking. + +“A man,” I said to myself, “who can regard himself as a function, not an +end of creation, has arrived.” + +After a time I got up and walked down the hill--some strange force +carrying me onward--and came thus to the city of Kilburn. + + + +CHAPTER X. I AM CAUGHT UP INTO LIFE + +I can scarcely convey in written words the whirling emotions I felt +when I entered the city of Kilburn. Every sight, every sound, recalled +vividly and painfully the unhappy years I had once spent in another and +greater city. Every mingled odour of the streets--and there is nothing +that will so surely re-create (for me) the inner emotion of a time or +place as a remembered odour--brought back to me the incidents of that +immemorial existence. + +For a time, I confess it frankly here, I felt afraid. More than once I +stopped short in the street where I was walking, and considered turning +about and making again for the open country. Some there may be who will +feel that I am exaggerating my sensations and impressions, but they do +not know of my memories of a former life, nor of how, many years ago, +I left the city quite defeated, glad indeed that I was escaping, and +thinking (as I have related elsewhere) that I should never again set +foot upon a paved street. These things went deep with me. Only the other +day, when a friend asked me how old I was, I responded instantly--our +unpremeditated words are usually truest--with the date of my arrival at +this farm. + +“Then you are only ten years old!” he exclaimed with a laugh, thinking I +was joking. + +“Well,” I said, “I am counting only the years worth living.” + +No; I existed, but I never really lived until I was reborn, that +wonderful summer here among these hills. + +I said I felt afraid in the streets of Kilburn, but it was no physical +fear. Who could be safer in a city than the man who has not a penny in +his pockets? It was rather a strange, deep, spiritual shrinking. There +seemed something so irresistible about this life of the city, so utterly +overpowering. I had a sense of being smaller than I had previously +felt myself, that in some way my personality, all that was strong or +interesting or original about me, was being smudged over, rubbed out. +In the country I had in some measure come to command life, but here, +it seemed to me, life was commanding me and crushing me down. It is a +difficult thing to describe: I never felt just that way before. + +I stopped at last on the main street of Kilburn in the very heart of +the town. I stopped because it seemed necessary to me, like a man in a +flood, to touch bottom, to get hold upon something immovable and stable. +It was just at that hour of evening when the stores and shops are +pouring forth their rivulets of humanity to join the vast flood of the +streets. I stepped quickly aside into a niche near the corner of an +immense building of brick and steel and glass, and there I stood with my +back to the wall, and I watched the restless, whirling, torrential tide +of the streets. I felt again, as I had not felt it before in years, +the mysterious urge of the city--the sense of unending, overpowering +movement. + +There was another strange, indeed uncanny, sensation that began to creep +over me as I stood there. Though hundreds upon hundreds of men and women +were passing me every minute, not one of them seemed to see me. Most +of them did not even look in my direction, and those who did turn their +eyes toward me see me to glance through me to the building behind. I +wonder if this is at all a common experience, or whether I was unduly +sensitive that day, unduly wrought up? I began to feel like one clad in +garments of invisibility. I could see, but was not seen. I could feel, +but was not felt. In the country there are few who would not stop to +speak to me, or at least appraise me with their eyes; but here I was a +wraith, a ghost--not a palpable human being at all. For a moment I felt +unutterably lonely. + +It is this way with me. When I have reached the very depths of any +serious situation or tragic emotion, something within me seems at last +to stop--how shall I describe it?--and I rebound suddenly and see +the world, as it were, double--see that my condition instead of being +serious or tragic is in reality amusing--and I usually came out of it +with an utterly absurd or whimsical idea. It was so upon this occasion. +I think it was the image of my robust self as a wraith that did it. + +“After all,” I said aloud taking a firm hold on the good hard flesh of +one of my legs, “this is positively David Grayson.” + +I looked out again into that tide of faces--interesting, tired, passive, +smiling, sad, but above all, preoccupied faces. + +“No one,” I thought, “seems to know that David Grayson has come to +town.” + +I had the sudden, almost irresistible notion of climbing up a step near +me, holding up one hand, and crying out: + +“Here I am, my friends. I am David Grayson. I am real and solid and +opaque; I have plenty of red blood running in my veins. I assure you +that I am a person well worth knowing.” + +I should really have enjoyed some such outlandish enterprise, and I am +not at all sure yet that it would not have brought me adventures and +made me friends worth while. We fail far more often by under-daring than +by over-daring. + +But this imaginary object had the result, at least, of giving me a new +grip on things. I began to look out upon the amazing spectacle before +me in a different mood. It was exactly like some enormous anthill into +which an idle traveller had thrust his cane. Everywhere the ants were +running out of their tunnels and burrows, many carrying burdens and +giving one strangely the impression that while they were intensely alive +and active, not more than half of them had any clear idea of where they +were going. And serious, deadly serious, in their haste! I felt a strong +inclination to stop a few of them and say: + +“Friends, cheer up. It isn't half as bad as you think it is. Cheer up!” + +After a time the severity of the human flood began to abate, and here +and there at the bottom of that gulch of a street, which had begun to +fill with soft, bluish-gray shadows, the evening lights a appeared. The +air had grown cooler; in the distance around a corner I heard a street +organ break suddenly and joyously into the lively strains of “The +Wearin' o' the Green.” + +I stepped out into the street with quite a new feeling of adventure. And +as if to testify that I was now a visible person a sharp-eyed newsboy +discovered me--the first human being in Kilburn who had actually seen +me--and came up with a paper in his hand. + +“Herald, boss?” + +I was interested in the shrewd, world-wise, humorous look in the +urchin's eyes. + +“No,” I began, with the full intent of bantering him into some sort of +acquaintance; but he evidently measured my purchasing capacity quite +accurately, for he turned like a flash to another customer. “Herald, +boss?” + +“You'll have to step lively, David Grayson,” I said to myself, “if you +get aboard in this city.” + +A slouchy negro with a cigarette in his fingers glanced at me in passing +and then, hesitating, turned quickly toward me. + +“Got a match, boss?” + +I gave him a match. + +“Thank you, boss,” and he passed on down the street. + +“I seem to be 'boss' around here,” I said. + +This contact, slight as it was, gave me a feeling of warmth, removed a +little the sensation of aloofness I had felt, and I strolled slowly down +the street, looking in at the gay windows, now ablaze with lights, and +watching the really wonderful procession of vehicles of all shapes and +sizes that rattled by on the pavement. Even at that hour of the day I +think there were more of them in one minute than I see in a whole month +at my farm. + +It's a great thing to wear shabby clothes and an old hat. Some of the +best things I have ever known, like these experiences of the streets, +have resulted from coming up to life from underneath; of being taken for +less than I am rather than for more than I am. + +I did not always believe in this doctrine. For many years--the years +before I was rightly born into this alluring world--I tried quite the +opposite course. I was constantly attempting to come down to life from +above. Instead of being content to carry through life a sufficiently +wonderful being named David Grayson I tried desperately to set up and +support a sort of dummy creature which, so clad, so housed, so fed, +should appear to be what I thought David Grayson ought to appear in the +eyes of the world. Oh, I spent quite a lifetime trying to satisfy other +people! + +Once I remember staying at home, in bed, reading “Huckleberry Finn,” + while I sent my trousers out to be mended. + +Well, that dummy Grayson perished in a cornfield. His empty coat served +well for a scarecrow. A wisp of straw stuck out through a hole in his +finest hat. + +And I--the man within--I escaped, and have been out freely upon the +great adventure of life. + +If a shabby coat (and I speak here also symbolically, not forgetful of +spiritual significances) lets you into the adventurous world of +those who are poor it does not on the other hand rob you of any true +friendship among those who are rich or mighty. I say true friendship, +for unless a man who is rich and mighty is able to see through my shabby +coat (as I see through his fine one), I shall gain nothing by knowing +him. + +I've permitted myself all this digression--left myself walking alone +there in the streets of Kilburn while I philosophized upon the ways +and means of life--not without design, for I could have had no such +experiences as I did have in Kilburn if I had worn a better coat or +carried upon me the evidences of security in life. + +I think I have already remarked upon the extraordinary enlivenment of +wits which comes to the man who has been without a meal or so and does +not know when or where he is again to break his fast. Try it, friend and +see! It was already getting along in the evening, and I knew or supposed +I knew no one in Kilburn save only Bill Hahn, Socialist who was little +better off than I was. + +In this emergency my mind began to work swiftly. A score of fascinating +plans for getting my supper and a bed to sleep in flashed through my +mind. + +“Why,” said I, “when I come to think of it, I'm comparatively rich. I'll +warrant there are plenty of places in Kilburn, and good ones, too, where +I could barter a chapter of Montaigne and a little good conversation +for a first-rate supper, and I've no doubt that I could whistle up a bed +almost anywhere!” + +I thought of a little motto I often repeat to myself: + +TO KNOW LIFE, BEGIN ANYWHERE! + +There were several people on the streets of Kilburn that night who don't +know yet how very near they were to being boarded by a somewhat shabby +looking farmer who would have offered them, let us say, a notable +musical production called “Old Dan Tucker,” exquisitely performed on a +tin whistle, in exchange for a good honest supper. + +There was one man in particular--a fine, pompous citizen who came down +the street swinging his cane and looking as though the universe was a +sort of Christmas turkey, lying all brown and sizzling before him ready +to be carved--a fine pompous citizen who never realized how nearly Fate +with a battered volume of Montaigne in one hand and a tin whistle in the +other--came to pouncing upon him that evening! And I am firmly convinced +that if I had attacked him with the Great Particular Word he would have +carved me off a juicy slice of the white breast meat. + +“I'm getting hungry,” I said; “I must find Bill Hahn!” + +I had turned down a side street, and seeing there in front of a building +a number of lounging men with two or three cabs or carriages standing +nearby in the street I walked up to them. It was a livery barn. + +Now I like all sorts of out-of-door people: I seem to be related to them +through horses and cattle and cold winds and sunshine. I like them and +understand them, and they seem to like me and understand me. So I walked +up to the group of jolly drivers and stablemen intending to ask my +directions. The talking died out and they all turned to look at me. I +suppose I was not altogether a familiar type there in the city streets. +My bag, especially, seemed to set me apart as a curious person. + +“Friends,” I said, “I am a farmer--” + +They all broke out laughing; they seemed to know it already! I was just +a little taken aback, but I laughed, too, knowing that there was a way +of getting at them if only I could find it. + +“It may surprise you,” I said, “but this is the first time in some dozen +years that I've been in a big city like this.” + +“You hadn't 'ave told us, partner!” said one of them, evidently the wit +of the group, in a rich Irish brogue. + +“Well,” I responded, laughing with the best of them, “you've been living +right here all the time, and don't realize how amusing and curious the +city looks to me. Why, I feel as though I had been away sleeping for +twenty years, like Rip Van Winkle. When I left the city there was +scarcely an automobile to be seen anywhere--and now look at them +snorting through the streets. I counted twenty-two passing that corner +up there in five minutes by the clock.” + +This was a fortunate remark, for I found instantly that the invasion +of the automobile was a matter of tremendous import to such Knights of +Bucephalus as these. + +At first the wit interrupted me with amusing remarks, as wits will, but +I soon had him as quiet as the others. For I have found the things that +chiefly interest people are the things they already know about--provided +you show them that these common things are still mysterious, still +miraculous, as indeed they are. + +After a time some one pushed me a stable stool and I sat down among +them, and we had quite a conversation, which finally developed into an +amusing comparison (I wish I had room to repeat it here) between the +city and the country. I told them something about my farm, how much I +enjoyed it, and what a wonderful free life one had in the country. In +this I was really taking an unfair advantage of them, for I was trading +on the fact that every man, down deep in his heart, has more or less of +an instinct to get back to the soil--at least all outdoor men have. And +when I described the simplest things about my barn, and the cattle and +pigs, and the bees--and the good things we have to eat--I had every one +of them leaning forward and hanging on my words. + +Harriet sometimes laughs at me for the way I celebrate farm life. +She says all my apples are the size of Hubbard squashes, my eggs all +double-yolked, and my cornfields tropical jungles. Practical Harriet! My +apples may not ALL be the size of Hubbard squashes, but they are good, +sizable apples, and as for flavour--all the spices of Arcady--! And I +believe, I KNOW, from my own experience that these fields and hills are +capable of healing men's souls. And when I see people wandering around +a lonesome city like Kilburn, with never a soft bit of soil to put their +heels into, nor a green thing to cultivate, nor any corn or apples or +honey to harvest, I feel--well, that they are wasting their time. + +(It's a fact, Harriet!) + + +Indeed I had the most curious experience with my friend the wit--his +name I soon learned was Healy--a jolly, round, red-nosed, outdoor chap +with fists that looked like small-sized hams, and a rich, warm Irish +voice. At first he was inclined to use me as the ready butt of his +lively mind, but presently he became so much interested in what I was +saying that he sat squarely in front of me with both his jolly eyes and +his smiling mouth wide open. + +“If ever you pass my way,” I said to him, “just drop in and I'll give +you a dinner of baked beans”--and I smacked--“and home made bread” and I +smacked again--“and pumpkin pie”--and I smacked a third time--“that will +make your mouth water.” + +All this smacking and the description of baked beans and pumpkin pie +had an odd counter effect upon ME; for I suddenly recalled my own tragic +state. So I jumped up quickly and asked directions for getting down to +the mill neighbourhood, where I hoped to find Bill Hahn. My friend Healy +instantly volunteered the information. + +“And now,” I said, “I want to ask a small favour of you. I'm looking for +a friend, and I'd like to leave my bag here for the night.” + +“Sure, sure,” said the Irishman heartily. “Put it there in the +office--on top o' the desk. It'll be all right.” + +So I put it in the office and was about to say good-bye, when my friend +said to me: + +“Come in, partner, and have a drink before you go”--and he pointed to a +nearby saloon. + +“Thank you,” I answered heartily, for I knew it was as fine a bit of +hospitality as he could offer me, “thank you, but I must find my friend +before it gets too late.” + +“Aw, come on now,” he cried, taking my arm. “Sure you'll be better off +for a bit o' warmth inside.” + +I had hard work to get away from them, and I am as sure as can be that +they would have found supper and a bed for me if they had known I needed +either. + +“Come agin,” Healy shouted after me, “we're glad to see a farmer any +toime.” + +My way led me quickly out of the well-groomed and glittering main +streets of the town. I passed first through several blocks of quiet +residences, and then came to a street near the river which was garishly +lighted, and crowded with small, poor shops and stores, with a saloon on +nearly every corner. I passed a huge, dark, silent box of a mill, and I +saw what I never saw before in a city, armed men guarding the streets. + +Although it was growing late--it was after nine o'clock--crowds +of people were still parading the streets, and there was something +intangibly restless, something tense, in the very atmosphere of the +neighbourhood. It was very plain that I had reached the strike district. +I was about to make some further inquiries for the headquarters of the +mill men or for Bill Hahn personally, when I saw, not far ahead of me, a +black crowd of people reaching out into the street. Drawing nearer I +saw that an open space or block between two rows of houses was literally +black with human beings, and in the centre on a raised platform, under a +gasolene flare, I beheld my friend of the road, Bill Hahn. The overcoat +and the hat with the furry ears had disappeared, and the little man +stood there bare-headed, before that great audience. + +My experience in the world is limited, but I have never heard anything +like that speech for sheer power. It was as unruly and powerful and +resistless as life itself. It was not like any other speech I ever +heard, for it was no mere giving out by the orator of ideas and thoughts +and feelings of his own. It seemed rather--how shall I describe it?--as +though the speaker was looking into the very hearts of that vast +gathering of poor men and poor women and merely telling them what +they themselves felt, but could not tell. And I shall never forget the +breathless hush of the people or the quality of their responses to the +orator's words. It was as though they said, “Yes, yes” with a feeling of +vast relief--“Yes, yes--at last our own hopes and fears and desires are +being uttered--yes, yes.” + +As for the orator himself, he held up one maimed hand and leaned over +the edge of the platform, and his undistinguished face glowed with the +white light of a great passion within. The man had utterly forgotten +himself. + +I confess, among those eager working people, clad in their poor +garments, I confess I was profoundly moved. Faith is not so bounteous a +commodity in this world that we can afford to treat even its unfamiliar +manifestations with contempt. And when a movement is hot with life, when +it stirs common men to their depths, look out! look out! + +Up to that time I had never known much of the practical workings of +Socialism; and the main contention of its philosophy has never accorded +wholly with my experience in life. + +But the Socialism of to-day is no mere abstraction--as it was, perhaps, +in the days of Brook Farm. It is a mode of action. Men whose view of +life is perfectly balanced rarely soil themselves with the dust of +battle. The heat necessary to produce social conflict (and social +progress--who knows?) is generated by a supreme faith that certain +principles are universal in their application when in reality they are +only local or temporary. + +Thus while one may not accept the philosophy of Socialism as a final +explanation of human life, he may yet look upon Socialism in action as +a powerful method of stimulating human progress. The world has been +lagging behind in its sense of brotherhood, and we now have the +Socialists knit together in a fighting friendship as fierce and narrow +in its motives as Calvinism, pricking us to reform, asking the cogent +question: + +“Are we not all brothers?” + +Oh, we are going a long way with these Socialists, we are going to +discover a new world of social relationships--and then, and then, like a +mighty wave; will flow in upon us a renewed and more wonderful sense of +the worth of the individual human soul. A new individualism, bringing +with it, perhaps, some faint realization of our dreams of a race of +Supermen, lies just beyond! Its prophets, girded with rude garments +and feeding upon the wild honey of poverty, are already crying in the +wilderness. + +I think I could have remained there at the Socialist meeting all night +long: there was something about it that brought a hard, dry twist to my +throat. But after a time my friend Bill Hahn, evidently quite worn out, +yielded his place to another and far less clairvoyant speaker, and the +crowd, among whom I now discovered quite a number of policemen, began to +thin out. + + +I made my way forward and saw Bill Hahn and several other men just +leaving the platform. I stepped up to him, but it was not until I called +him by name (I knew how absent minded he was!) that he recognized me. + +“Well, well,” he said; “you came after all!” + +He seized me by both arms and introduced me to several of his companions +as “Brother Grayson.” They all shook hands with me warmly. + +Although he was perspiring, Bill put on his overcoat and the old fur hat +with the ears, and as he now took my arm I could feel one of his bulging +pockets beating against my leg. I had not the slightest idea where they +were going, but Bill held me by the arm and presently we came, a block +or so distant, to a dark, narrow stairway leading up from the street. +I recall the stumbling sound of steps on the wooden boards, a laugh or +two, the high voice of a woman asserting and denying. Feeling our way +along the wall, we came to the top and went into a long, low, rather +dimly lighted room set about with tables and chairs--a sort of +restaurant. A number of men and a few women had already gathered there. +Among them my eyes instantly singled out a huge, rough-looking man who +stood at the centre of an animated group. He had thick, shaggy hair, +and one side of his face over the cheekbone was of a dull blue-black and +raked and scarred, where it had been burned in a Powder blast. He had +been a miner. His gray eyes, which had a surprisingly youthful and even +humorous expression, looked out from under coarse, thick, gray brows. A +very remarkable face and figure he presented. I soon learned that he +was R---- D----, the leader of whom I had often heard, and heard no good +thing. He was quite a different type from Bill Hahn: he was the man +of authority, the organizer, the diplomat--as Bill was the prophet, +preaching a holy war. + +How wonderful human nature is! Only a short time before I had been +thrilled by the intensity of the passion of the throng, but here the +mood suddenly changed to one of friendly gayety. Fully a third of those +present were women, some of them plainly from the mills and some of +them curiously different--women from other walks in life who had thrown +themselves heart and soul into the strike. Without ceremony but with +much laughing and joking, they found their places around the tables. A +cook, who appeared in a dim doorway was greeted with a shout, to which +he responded with a wide smile, waving the long spoon which he held in +his hand. + +I shall not attempt to give any complete description of the gathering +or of what they said or did. I think I could devote a dozen pages to the +single man who was placed next to me. I was interested in him from the +outset. The first thing that struck me about him was an air of neatness, +even fastidiousness, about his person--though he wore no stiff collar, +only a soft woollen shirt without a necktie. He had the long sensitive, +beautiful hands of an artist, but his face was thin and marked with +the pallor peculiar to the indoor worker. I soon learned that he was a +weaver in the mills, an Englishman by birth, and we had not talked two +minutes before I found that, while he had never had any education in +the schools, he had been a gluttonous reader of books--all kind of +books--and, what is more, had thought about them and was ready with +vigorous (and narrow) opinions about this author or that. And he knew +more about economics and sociology, I firmly believe, than half the +college professors. A truly remarkable man. + +It was an Italian restaurant, and I remember how, in my hunger, I +assailed the generous dishes of boiled meat and spaghetti. A red wine +was served in large bottles which circulated rapidly around the table, +and almost immediately the room began to fill with tobacco smoke. Every +one seemed to be talking and laughing at once, in the liveliest spirit +of good fellowship. They joked from table to table, and sometimes the +whole room would quiet down while some one told a joke, which invariably +wound up with a roar of laughter. + +“Why,” I said, “these people have a whole life, a whole society, of +their own!” + +In the midst of this jollity the clear voice of a girl rang out with the +first lines of a song. Instantly the room was hushed: + + Arise, ye prisoners of starvation, + Arise, ye wretched of the earth, + For justice thunders condemnation + A better world's in birth. + +These were the words she sang, and when the clear, sweet voice died +down the whole company, as though by a common impulse, arose from their +chairs, and joined in a great swelling chorus: + + It is the final conflict, + Let each stand in his place, + The Brotherhood of Man + Shall be the human race. + +It was beyond belief, to me, the spirit with which these words were +sung. In no sense with jollity--all that seemed to have been dropped +when they came to their feet--but with an unmistakable fervour of faith. +Some of the things I had thought and dreamed about secretly among the +hills of my farm all these years, dreamed about as being something far +off and as unrealizable as the millennium, were here being sung abroad +with jaunty faith by these weavers of Kilburn, these weavers and workers +whom I had schooled myself to regard with a sort of distant pity. + +Hardly had the company sat down again, with a renewal of the flow of +jolly conversation When I heard a rapping on one of the tables. I saw +the great form of R----- D----- slowly rising. + +“Brothers and sisters,” he said, “a word of caution. The authorities +will lose no chance of putting us in the wrong. Above all we must +comport ourselves here and in the strike with great care. We are +fighting a great battle, bigger than we are--” + +At this instant the door from the dark hallway suddenly opened and a +man in a policeman's uniform stepped in. There fell an instant's dead +silence--an explosive silence. Every person there seemed to be petrified +in the position in which his attention was attracted. Every eye was +fixed on the figure at the door. For an instant no one said a word; then +I heard a woman's shrill voice, like a rifle-shot: + +“Assassin!” + +I cannot imagine what might have happened next, for the feeling in the +room, as in the city itself, was at the tensest, had not the leader +suddenly brought the goblet which he held in his hand down with a bang +upon the table. + +“As I was saying,” he continued in a steady, clear voice, “we are +fighting to-day the greatest of battles, and we cannot permit trivial +incidents, or personal bitterness, or small persecutions, to turn us +from the great work we have in hand. However our opponents may comport +themselves, we must be calm, steady, sure, patient, for we know that our +cause is just and will prevail.” + +“You're right,” shouted a voice back in the room. + +Instantly the tension relaxed, conversation started again and every +one turned away from the policeman at the door. In a few minutes, he +disappeared without having said a word. + +There was no regular speaking, and about midnight the party began to +break up. I leaned over and said to my friend Bill Hahn: + +“Can you find me a place to sleep tonight?” + +“Certainly I can,” he said heartily. + +There was to be a brief conference of the leaders after the supper, and +those present soon departed. I went down the long, dark stairway and +out into the almost deserted street. Looking up between the buildings I +could see the clear blue sky and the stars. And I walked slowly up and +down awaiting my friend and trying, vainly to calm my whirling emotions. + +He came at last and I went with him. That night I slept scarcely at all, +but lay looking up into the darkness. And it seemed as though, as I +lay there, listening, that I could hear the city moving in its restless +sleep and sighing as with heavy pain. All night long I lay there +thinking. + + + +CHAPTER XI. I COME TO GRAPPLE WITH THE CITY + +I have laughed heartily many times since I came home to think of the +Figure of Tragedy I felt myself that morning in the city of Kilburn. I +had not slept well, had not slept at all, I think, and the experiences +and emotions of the previous night still lay heavy upon me. Not before +in many years had I felt such a depression of the spirits. + +It was all so different from the things I love! Not so much as a spear +of grass or a leafy tree to comfort the eye, or a bird to sing; no quiet +hills, no sight of the sun coming up in the morning over dewy fields, no +sound of cattle in the lane, no cheerful cackling of fowls, nor buzzing +of bees! That morning, I remember, when I first went out into those +squalid streets and saw everywhere the evidences of poverty, dirt, and +ignorance--and the sweet, clean country not two miles away--the thought +of my own home among the hills (with Harriet there in the doorway) came +upon me with incredible longing. + +“I must go home; I must go home!” I caught myself saying aloud. + +I remember how glad I was when I found that my friend Bill Hahn and +other leaders of the strike were to be engaged in conferences during +the forenoon, for I wanted to be alone, to try to get a few things +straightened out in my mind. + +But I soon found that a city is a poor place for reflection or +contemplation. It bombards one with an infinite variety of new +impressions and new adventures; and I could not escape the impression +made by crowded houses, and ill-smelling streets, and dirty sidewalks, +and swarming human beings. For a time the burden of these things rested +upon my breast like a leaden weight; they all seemed so utterly wrong to +me, so unnecessary; so unjust! I sometimes think of religion as only a +high sense of good order; and it seemed to me that morning as though +the very existence of this disorderly mill district was a challenge to +religion, and an offence to the Orderer of an Orderly Universe. I don't +now how such conditions may affect other people, but for a time I felt a +sharp sense of impatience--yes, anger--with it all. I had an impulse to +take off my coat then and there and go at the job of setting things to +rights. Oh, I never was more serious in my life: I was quite prepared +to change the entire scheme of things to my way of thinking whether +the people who lived there liked it or not. It seemed to me for a few +glorious moments that I had only to tell them of the wonders in our +country, the pleasant, quiet roads, the comfortable farmhouses, the +fertile fields, and the wooded hills--and, poof! all this crowded +poverty would dissolve and disappear, and they would all come to the +country and be as happy as I was. + +I remember how, once in my life, I wasted untold energy trying to make +over my dearest friends. There was Harriet, for example, dear, serious, +practical Harriet. I used to be fretted by the way she was forever +trying to clip my wing feathers--I suppose to keep me close to the quiet +and friendly and unadventurous roost! We come by such a long, long road, +sometimes, to the acceptance of our nearest friends for exactly what +they are. Because we are so fond of them we try to make them over to +suit some curious ideal of perfection of our own--until one day we +suddenly laugh aloud at our own absurdity (knowing that they are +probably trying as hard to reconstruct us as we are to reconstruct them) +and thereafter we try no more to change them, we just love 'em and enjoy +'em! + +Some such psychological process went on in my consciousness that +morning. As I walked briskly through the streets I began to look out +more broadly around me. It was really a perfect spring morning, the air +crisp, fresh, and sunny, and the streets full of life and activity. I +looked into the faces of the people I met, and it began to strike me +that most of them seemed oblivious of the fact that they should, by +good rights, be looking downcast and dispirited. They had cheered their +approval the night before when the speakers had told them how miserable +they were (even acknowledging that they were slaves), and yet here they +were this morning looking positively good-humoured, cheerful, some of +them even gay. I warrant if I had stepped up to one of them that morning +and intimated that he was a slave he would have--well, I should have +had serious trouble with him! There was a degree of sociability in those +back streets, a visiting from window to window, gossipy gatherings in +front area-ways, a sort of pavement domesticity, that I had never +seen before. Being a lover myself of such friendly intercourse I could +actually feel the hum and warmth of that neighbourhood. + +A group of brightly clad girl strikers gathered on a corner were +chatting and laughing, and children in plenty ran and shouted at their +play in the street. I saw a group of them dancing merrily around an +Italian hand-organ man who was filling the air with jolly music. I +recall what a sinking sensation I had at the pit of my reformer's +stomach when it suddenly occurred to me that these people some of them, +anyway, might actually LIKE this crowded, sociable neighbourhood! “They +might even HATE the country,” I exclaimed. + +It is surely one of the fundamental humours of life to see absurdly +serious little human beings (like D. G. for example) trying to stand +in the place of the Almighty. We are so confoundedly infallible in our +judgments, so sure of what is good for our neighbour, so eager to force +upon him our particular doctors or our particular remedies; we are so +willing to put our childish fingers into the machinery of creation--and +we howl so lustily when we get them pinched! + +“Why!” I exclaimed, for it came to me like a new discovery, “it's +exactly the same here as it is in the country! I haven't got to make +over the universe: I've only got to do my own small job, and to look up +often at the trees and the hills and the sky and be friendly with all +men.” + +I cannot express the sense of comfort, and of trust, which this +reflection brought me. I recall stopping just then at the corner of a +small green city square, for I had now reached the better part of the +city, and of seeing with keen pleasure the green of the grass and the +bright colour of a bed of flowers, and two or three clean nursemaids +with clean baby cabs, and a flock of pigeons pluming themselves near a +stone fountain, and an old tired horse sleeping in the sun with his nose +buried in a feed bag. + +“Why,” I said, “all this, too, is beautiful!” So I continued my walk +with quite a new feeling in my heart, prepared again for any adventure +life might have to offer me. + +I supposed I knew no living soul in Kilburn but Bill the Socialist. What +was my astonishment and pleasure, then in one of the business streets +to discover a familiar face and figure. A man was just stepping from an +automobile to the sidewalk. For an instant; in that unusual environment, +I could not place him, then I stepped up quickly and said: + +“Well, well, Friend Vedder.” + +He looked around with astonishment at the man in the shabby clothes--but +it was only for an instant. + +“David Grayson!” he exclaimed, “and how did YOU get into the city?” + +“Walked,” I said. + +“But I thought you were an incurable and irreproachable countryman! Why +are you here?” + +“Love o' life,” I said; “love o' life.” + +“Where are you stopping?” I waved my hand. + +“Where the road leaves me,” I said. “Last night I left my bag with some +good friends I made in front of a livery stable and I spent the night in +the mill district with a Socialist named Bill Hahn.” + +“Bill Hahn!” The effect upon Mr. Vedder was magical. + +“Why, yes,” I said, “and a remarkable man he is, too.” + +I discovered immediately that my friend was quite as much interested in +the strike as Bill Hahn, but on the other side. He was, indeed, one of +the directors of the greatest mill in Kilburn--the very one which I had +seen the night before surrounded by armed sentinels. It was thrilling to +me, this knowledge, for it seemed to plump me down at once in the middle +of things--and soon, indeed, brought me nearer to the brink of great +events than ever I was before in all my days. + +I could see that Mr. Vedder considered Bill Hahn as a sort of devouring +monster, a wholly incendiary and dangerous person. So terrible, indeed, +was the warning he gave me (considering me, I suppose an unsophisticated +person) that I couldn't help laughing outright. + +“I assure you--” he began, apparently much offended. + +But I interrupted him. + +“I'm sorry I laughed,” I said, “but as you were talking about Bill Hahn, +I couldn't help thinking of him as I first saw him.” And I gave Mr. +Vedder as lively a description as I could of the little man with his +bulging coat tails, his furry ears, his odd round spectacles. He was +greatly interested in what I said and began to ask many questions. I +told him with all the earnestness I could command of Bill's history and +of his conversion to his present beliefs. I found that Mr. Vedder had +known Robert Winter very well indeed, and was amazed at the incident +which I narrated of Bill Hahn's attempt upon his life. + +I have always believed that if men could be made to understand one +another they would necessarily be friendly, so I did my best to explain +Bill Hahn to Mr. Vedder. + +“I'm tremendously interested in what you say,” he said, “and we must +have more talk about it.” + +He told me that he had now to put in an appearance at his office, and +wanted me to go with him; but upon my objection he pressed me to take +luncheon with him a little later, an invitation which I accepted with +real pleasure. + +“We haven't had a word about gardens,” he said, “and there are no end +of things that Mrs. Vedder and I found that we wanted to talk with you +about after you had left us.” + +“Well!” I said, much delighted, “let's have a regular old-fashioned +country talk.” + +So we parted for the time being, and I set off in the highest spirits to +see something more of Kilburn. + +A city, after all, is a very wonderful place. One thing, I recall, +impressed me powerfully that morning--the way in which every one was +working, apparently without any common agreement or any common purpose, +and yet with a high sort of understanding. The first hearing of a +difficult piece of music (to an uncultivated ear like mine) often yields +nothing but a confused sense of unrelated motives, but later and deeper +hearings reveal the harmony which ran so clear in the master's soul. + +Something of this sort happened to me in looking out upon the life of +that great city of Kilburn. All about on the streets, in the buildings, +under ground and above ground, men were walking, running, creeping, +crawling, climbing, lifting, digging, driving, buying, selling, +sweating, swearing, praying, loving, hating, struggling, failing, +sinning, repenting--all working and living according to a vast harmony, +which sometimes we can catch clearly and sometimes miss entirely. I +think, that morning, for a time, I heard the true music of the spheres, +the stars singing together. + +Mr. Vedder took me to a quiet restaurant where we had a snug alcove all +to ourselves. I shall remember it always as one of the truly pleasant +experiences of my pilgrimage. + +I could see that my friend was sorely troubled, that the strike rested +heavy upon him, and so I led the conversation to the hills and the +roads and the fields we both love so much. I plied him with a thousand +questions about his garden. I told him in the liveliest way of my +adventures after leaving his home, how I had telephoned him from the +hills, how I had taken a swim in the mill-pond, and especially how I had +lost myself in the old cowpasture, with an account of all my absurd and +laughable adventures and emotions. + +Well, before we had finished our luncheon I had every line ironed from +the brow of that poor plagued rich man, I had brought jolly crinkles to +the corners of his eyes, and once or twice I had him chuckling down deep +inside (Where chuckles are truly effective). Talk about cheering up the +poor: I think the rich are usually far more in need of it! + +But I couldn't keep the conversation in these delightful channels. +Evidently the strike and all that it meant lay heavy upon Mr. Vedder's +consciousness, for he pushed back his coffee and began talking about it, +almost in a tone of apology. He told me how kind he had tried to make +the mill management in its dealings with its men. + +“I would not speak of it save in explanation of our true attitude of +helpfulness; but we have really given our men many advantages”--and he +told me of the reading-room the company had established, of the visiting +nurse they had employed, and of several other excellent enterprises, +which gave only another proof of what I knew already of Mr. Vedder's +sincere kindness of heart. + +“But,” he said, “we find they don't appreciate what we try to do for +them.” + +I laughed outright. + +“Why,” I exclaimed, “you are having the same trouble I have had!” + +“How's that?” he inquired, I thought a little sharply. Men don't like to +have their seriousness trifled with. + +“No longer ago than this morning,” I said, “I had exactly that idea of +giving them advantages; but I found that the difficulty lies not with +the ability to give, but with the inability or unwillingness to take. +You see I have a great deal of surplus wealth myself--” + +Mr. Vedder's eyes flickered up at me. + +“Yes,” I said. “I've got immense accumulations of the wealth of the +ages--ingots of Emerson and Whitman, for example, gems of Voltaire, and +I can't tell what other superfluous coinage!” (And I waved my hand in +the most grandiloquent manner.) “I've also quite a store of knowledge +of corn and calves and cucumbers, and I've a boundless domain of +exceedingly valuable landscapes. I am prepared to give bountifully of +all these varied riches (for I shall still have plenty remaining), but +the fact is that this generation of vipers doesn't appreciate what I am +trying to do for them. I'm really getting frightened, lest they permit +me to perish from undistributed riches!” + +Mr. Vedder was still smiling. + +“Oh,” I said, warming up to my idea, “I'm a regular multimillionaire. +I've got so much wealth that I'm afraid I shall not be as fortunate as +jolly Andy Carnegie, for I don't see how I can possibly die poor!” + +“Why not found a university or so?” asked Mr. Vedder. + +“Well, I had thought of that. It's a good idea. Let's join our forces +and establish a university where truly serious people can take courses +in laughter.” + +“Fine idea!” exclaimed Mr. Vedder; “but wouldn't it require an enormous +endowment to accommodate all the applicants? You must remember that this +is a very benighted and illiterate world, laughingly speaking.” + +“It is, indeed,” I said, “but you must remember that many people, for a +long time, will be too serious to apply. I wonder sometimes if any one +ever learns to laugh really laugh much before he is forty.” + +“But,” said Mr. Vedder anxiously, “do you think such an institution +would be accepted by the proletariat of the serious-minded?” + +“Ah, that's the trouble,” said I, “that's the trouble. The proletariat +doesn't appreciate what we are trying to do for them! They don't +want your reading-rooms nor my Emerson and cucumbers. The seat of the +difficulty seems to be that what seems wealth to us isn't necessarily +wealth for the other fellow.” + +I cannot tell with what delight we fenced our way through this foolery +(which was not all foolery, either). I never met a man more quickly +responsive than Mr. Vedder. But he now paused for some moments, +evidently ruminating. + +“Well, David,” he said seriously, “what are we going to do about this +obstreperous other fellow?” + +“Why not try the experiment,” I suggested, “of giving him what he +considers wealth, instead of what you consider wealth?” + +“But what does he consider wealth?” + +“Equality,” said I. + +Mr. Vedder threw up his hands. + +“So you're a Socialist, too!” + +“That,” I said, “is another story.” + +“Well, supposing we did or could give him this equality you speak +of--what would become of us? What would we get out of it?” + +“Why, equality, too!” I said. + +Mr. Vedder threw up his hands up with a gesture of mock resignation. + +“Come,” said he, “let's get down out of Utopia!” + +We had some further good-humoured fencing and then returned to the +inevitable problem of the strike. While we were discussing the meeting +of the night before which, I learned, had been luridly reported in the +morning papers, Mr. Vedder suddenly turned to me and asked earnestly: + +“Are you really a Socialist?” + +“Well,” said I, “I'm sure of one thing. I'm not ALL Socialist, Bill Hahn +believes with his whole soul (and his faith has made him a remarkable +man) that if only another class of people--his class--could come into +the control of material property, that all the ills that man is heir +to would be speedily cured. But I wonder if when men own property +collectively--as they are going to one of these days--they will quarrel +and hate one another any less than they do now. It is not the ownership +of material property that interests me so much as the independence of +it. When I started out from my farm on this pilgrimage it seemed to +me the most blessed thing in the world to get away from property and +possession.” + +“What are you then, anyway?” asked Mr. Vedder, smiling. + +“Well, I've thought of a name I would like to have applied to me +sometimes,” I said. “You see I'm tremendously fond of this world exactly +as it is now. Mr. Vedder, it's a wonderful and beautiful place! I've +never seen a better one. I confess I could not possibly live in the +rarefied atmosphere of a final solution. I want to live right here and +now for all I'm worth. The other day a man asked me what I thought was +the best time of life. 'Why,' I answered without a thought, 'Now.' It +has always seemed to me that if a man can't make a go of it, yes, and be +happy at this moment, he can't be at the next moment. But most of +all, it seems to me, I want to get close to people, to look into their +hearts, and be friendly with them. Mr. Vedder, do you know what I'd like +to be called?” + +“I cannot imagine,” said he. + +“Well, I'd like to be called an Introducer. My friend, Mr. Blacksmith, +let me introduce you to my friend, Mr. Plutocrat. I could almost swear +that you were brothers, so near alike are you! You'll find each other +wonderfully interesting once you get over the awkwardness of the +introduction. And Mr. White Man, let me present you particularly to my +good friend, Mr. Negro. You will see if you sit down to it that this +colour of the face is only skin deep.” + +“It's a good name!” said Mr. Vedder, laughing. + +“It's a wonderful name,” said I, “and it's about the biggest and finest +work in the world--to know human beings just as they are, and to +make them acquainted with one another just as they are. Why, it's the +foundation of all the democracy there is, or ever will be. Sometimes I +think that friendliness is the only achievement of life worth while--and +unfriendliness the only tragedy.” + +I have since felt ashamed of myself when I thought how I lectured my +unprotected host that day at luncheon; but it seemed to boil out of me +irresistibly. The experiences of the past two days had stirred me to the +very depths, and it seemed to me I must explain to somebody how it all +impressed me--and to whom better than to my good friend Vedder? + +As we were leaving the table an idea flashed across my mind which +seemed, at first, so wonderful that it quite turned me dizzy. + +“See here, Mr. Vedder,” I exclaimed, “let me follow my occupation +practically. I know Bill Hahn and I know you. Let me introduce you. +If you could only get together, if you could only understand what +good fellows you both are, it might go far toward solving these +difficulties.” + +I had some trouble persuading him, but finally he consented, said he +wanted to leave no stone unturned, and that he would meet Bill Hahn and +some of the other leaders, if proper arrangements could be made. + +I left him, therefore, in excitement, feeling that I was at the point of +playing a part in a very great event. “Once get these men together,” I +thought, “and they MUST come to an understanding.” + +So I rushed out to the mill district, saying to myself over and over (I +have smiled about it since!): “We'll settle this strike: we'll settle +this strike: we'll settle this strike.” After some searching I found +my friend Bill in the little room over a saloon that served as strike +headquarters. A dozen or more of the leaders were there, faintly +distinguishable through clouds of tobacco smoke. Among them sat the +great R---- D----, his burly figure looming up at one end of the table, +and his strong, rough, iron-jawed face turning first toward this speaker +and then toward that. The discussion, which had evidently been lively, +died down soon after I appeared at the door, and Bill Hahn came out to +me and we sat down together in the adjoining room. Here I broke eagerly +into an account of the happenings of the day, described my chance +meeting with Mr. Vedder--who was well known to Bill by reputation--and +finally asked him squarely whether he would meet him. I think my +enthusiasm quite carried him away. + +“Sure, I will,” said Bill Hahn heartily. + +“When and where?” I asked, “and will any of the other men join you?” + +Bill was all enthusiasm at once, for that was the essence of his +temperament, but he said that he must first refer it to the committee. +I waited, in a tense state of impatience, for what seemed to me a very +long time; but finally the door opened and Bill Hahn came out bringing +R---- D---- himself with him. We all sat down together, and R---- D---- +began to ask questions (he was evidently suspicious as to who and what +I was); but I think, after I talked with them for some time that I made +them see the possibilities and the importance of such a meeting. I was +greatly impressed with R---- D----, the calmness and steadiness of the +man, his evident shrewdness. “A real general,” I said to myself. “I +should like to know him better.” + +After a long talk they returned to the other room, closing the door +behind them, and I waited again, still more impatiently. + +It seems rather absurd now, but at that moment I felt firmly convinced +that I was on the way to the permanent settlement of a struggle which +had occupied the best brains of Kilburn for many weeks. + +While I was waiting in that dingy ante-room, the other door slowly +opened and a boy stuck his head in. + +“Is David Grayson here?” he asked. + +“Here he is,” said I, greatly astonished that any one in Kilburn should +be inquiring for me, or should know where I was. + +The boy came in, looked at me with jolly round eyes for a moment, and +dug a letter out of his pocket. I opened it at once, and glancing at the +signature discovered that it was from Mr. Vedder. + +“He said I'd probably find you at strike headquarters,” remarked the +boy. + +This was the letter: marked “Confidential.” + +My Dear Grayson: I think you must be something of a hypnotist. After you +left me I began to think of the project you mentioned, and I have talked +it over with one or two of my associates. I would gladly hold this +conference, but it does not now seem wise for us to do so. The interests +we represent are too important to be jeopardized. In theory you are +undoubtedly right, but in this case I think you will agree with me (when +you think it over), we must not show any weakness. Come and stop with +us to-night: Mrs. Vedder will be overjoyed to see you and we'll have +another fine talk. + +I confess I was a good deal cast down as I read this letter. + +“What interests are so important?” I asked myself, “that they should +keep friends apart?” + +But I was given only a moment for reflection for the door opened and my +friend Bill, together with R---- D---- and several other members of the +committee, came out. I put the letter in my pocket, and for a moment my +brain never worked under higher pressure. What should I say to them now? +How could I explain myself? + +Bill Hahn was evidently labouring under considerable excitement, but +R---- D---- was as calm as a judge. He sat down in the chair opposite +and said to me: + +“We've been figuring out this proposition of Mr. Vedder's. Your idea is +all right, and it would be a fine thing if we could really get together +as you suggest upon terms of common understanding and friendship.” + +“Just what Mr. Vedder said,” I exclaimed. + +“Yes,” he continued, “it's all right in theory; but in this case it +simply won't work. Don't you see it's got to be war? Your friend and I +could probably understand each other--but this is a class war. It's all +or nothing with us, and your friend Vedder knows it as well as we do.” + +After some further argument and explanation, I said: + +“I see: and this is Socialism.” + +“Yes,” said the great R---- D----, “this is Socialism.” + +“And it's force you would use,” I said. + +“It's force THEY use,” he replied. + +After I left the strike headquarters that evening--for it was almost +dark before I parted with the committee--I walked straight out through +the crowded streets, so absorbed in my thoughts that I did not know +in the least where I was going. The street lights came out, the crowds +began to thin away, I heard a strident song from a phonograph at the +entrance to a picture show, and as I passed again in front of the great, +dark, many-windowed mill which had made my friend Vedder a rich man I +saw a sentinel turn slowly at the corner. The light glinted on the steel +of his bayonet. He had a fresh, fine, boyish face. + +“We have some distance yet to go in this world,” I said to myself, “no +man need repine for lack of good work ahead.” + +It was only a little way beyond this mill that an incident occurred +which occupied probably not ten minutes of time, and yet I have thought +about it since I came home as much as I have thought about any other +incident of my pilgrimage. I have thought how I might have acted +differently under the circumstances, how I could have said this or how I +ought to have done that--all, of course, now to no purpose whatever. But +I shall not attempt to tell what I ought to have done or said, but what +I actually did do and say on the spur of the moment. + +It was in a narrow, dark street which opened off the brightly lighted +main thoroughfare of that mill neighbourhood. A girl standing in the +shadows between two buildings said to me as I passed: + +“Good evening.” + +I stopped instantly, it was such a pleasant, friendly voice. + +“Good evening,” I said, lifting my hat and wondering that there should +be any one here in this back street who knew me. + +“Where are you going?” she asked. + +I stepped over quickly toward her, hat in hand. She was a mere slip of +a girl, rather comely, I thought, with small childish features and a +half-timid, half-bold look in her eyes. I could not remember having seen +her before. + +She smiled at me--and then I knew! + +Well, if some one had struck me a brutal blow in the face I could not +have been more astonished. + +We know of things!--and yet how little we know until they are presented +to us in concrete form. Just such a little school girl as I have seen a +thousand times in the country, the pathetic childish curve of the chin, +a small rebellious curl hanging low on her temple. + +I could not say a word. The girl evidently saw in my face that something +was the matter, for she turned and began to move quickly away. Such +a wave of compassion (and anger, too) swept over me as I cannot well +describe. I stepped after her and asked in a low voice: + +“Do you work in the mills?” + +“Yes, when there's work.” + +“What is your name?” + +“Maggie--” + +“Well, Maggie,” I said, “let's be friends.” + +She looked around at me curiously, questioningly. + +“And friends,” I said, “should know something about each other. You see +I am a farmer from the country. I used to live in a city myself, a good +many years ago, but I got tired and sick and hopeless. There was so much +that was wrong about it. I tried to keep the pace and could not. I wish +I could tell you what the country has done for me.” + +We were walking along slowly, side by side, the girl perfectly passive +but glancing around at me from time to time with a wondering look. +I don't know in the least now what prompted me to do it, but I began +telling in a quiet, low voice--for, after all, she was only a child--I +began telling her about our chickens at the farm and how Harriet had +named them all, and one was Frances E. Willard, and one, a speckled one, +was Martha Washington, and I told her of the curious antics of Martha +Washington and of the number of eggs she laid, and of the sweet new milk +we had to drink, and the honey right out of our own hives, and of the +things growing in the garden. + +Once she smiled a little, and once she looked around at me with a +curious, timid, half-wistful expression in her eyes. + +“Maggie,” I said, “I wish you could go to the country.” + +“I wish to God I could,” she replied. + +We walked for a moment in silence. My head was whirling with thoughts: +again I had that feeling of helplessness, of inadequacy, which I had +felt so sharply on the previous evening. What could I do? + +When we reached the corner, I said: + +“Maggie, I will see you safely home.” + +She laughed--a hard, bitter laugh. + +“Oh, I don't need any one to show me around these streets!” + +“I will see you home,” I said. + +So we walked quickly along the street together. + +“Here it is,” she said finally, pointing to a dark, mean-looking, +one-story house, set in a dingy, barren areaway. + +“Well, good night, Maggie,” I said, “and good luck to you.” + +“Good night,” she said faintly. + +When I had walked to the corner, I stopped and looked back. She was +standing stock-still just where I had left her--a figure I shall never +forget. + + +I have hesitated about telling of a further strange thing that happened +to me that night--but have decided at last to put it in. I did not +accept Mr. Vedder's invitation: I could not; but I returned to the room +in the tenement where I had spent the previous night with Bill Hahn the +Socialist. It was a small, dark, noisy room, but I was so weary that +I fell almost immediately into a heavy sleep. An hour or more later I +don't know how long indeed--I was suddenly awakened and found myself +sitting bolt upright in bed. It was close and dark and warm there in +the room, and from without came the muffled sounds of the city. For an +instant I waited, rigid with expectancy. And then I heard as clearly and +plainly as ever I heard anything: + +“David! David!” in my sister Harriet's voice. + +It was exactly the voice in which she has called me a thousand times. +Without an instant's hesitation, I stepped out of bed and called out: + +“I'm coming, Harriet! I'm coming!” + +“What's the matter?” inquired Bill Hahn sleepily. + +“Nothing,” I replied, and crept back into bed. + +It may have been the result of the strain and excitement of the previous +two days. I don't explain it--I can only tell what happened. + +Before I went to sleep again I determined to start straight for home in +the morning: and having decided, I turned over, drew a long, comfortable +breath and did not stir again, I think, until long after the morning sun +shone in at the window. + + + +CHAPTER XII. THE RETURN + +“Everything divine runs with light feet.” + +Surely the chief delight of going away from home is the joy of getting +back again. I shall never forget that spring morning when I walked from +the city of Kilburn into the open country, my bag on my back, a song in +my throat, and the gray road stretching straight before me. I remember +how eagerly I looked out across the fields and meadows and rested my +eyes upon the distant hills. How roomy it all was! I looked up into the +clear blue of the sky. There was space here to breathe, and distances in +which the spirit might spread its wings. As the old prophet says, it was +a place where a man might be placed alone in the midst of the earth. + +I was strangely glad that morning of every little stream that ran under +the bridges, I was glad of the trees I passed, glad of every bird and +squirrel in the branches, glad of the cattle grazing in the fields, glad +of the jolly boys I saw on their way to school with their dinner pails, +glad of the bluff, red-faced teamster I met, and of the snug farmer who +waved his hand at me and wished me a friendly good morning. It seemed to +me that I liked every one I saw, and that every one liked me. + +So I walked onward that morning, nor ever have had such a sense of +relief and escape, nor ever such a feeling of gayety. + +“Here is where I belong,” I said. “This is my own country. Those hills +are mine, and all the fields, and the trees and the sky--and the road +here belongs to me as much as it does to any one.” + +Coming presently to a small house near the side of the road, I saw a +woman working with a trowel in her sunny garden. It was good to see her +turn over the warm brown soil; it was good to see the plump green rows +of lettuce and the thin green rows of onions, and the nasturtiums and +sweet peas; it was good--after so many days in that desert of a city--to +get a whiff of blossoming things. I stood for a moment looking quietly +over the fence before the woman saw me. When at last she turned and +looked up, I said: + +“Good morning.” + +She paused, trowel in hand. + +“Good morning,” she replied; “you look happy.” + +I wasn't conscious that I was smiling outwardly. + +“Well, I am,” I said; “I'm going home.” + +“Then you OUGHT to be happy,” said she. + +“And I'm glad to escape THAT,” and I pointed toward the city. + +“What?” + +“Why, that old monster lying there in the valley.” + +I could see that she was surprised and even a little alarmed. So I began +intently to admire her young cabbages and comment on the perfection of +her geraniums. But I caught her eying me from time to time as I leaned +there on the fence, and I knew that she would come back sooner or later +to my remark about the monster. Having shocked your friend (not too +unpleasantly), abide your time, and he will want to be shocked again. So +I was not at all surprised to hear her ask: + +“Have you travelled far?” + +“I should say so!” I replied. “I've been on a very long journey. I've +seen many strange sights and met many wonderful people.” + +“You may have been in California, then. I have a daughter in +California.” + +“No,” said I, “I was never in California.” + +“You've been a long time from home, you say?” + +“A very long time from home.” + +“How long?” + +“Three weeks.” + +“Three weeks! And how far did you say you had travelled?” + +“At the farthest point, I should say sixty miles from home.” + +“But how can you say that in travelling only sixty miles and being gone +three weeks that you have seen so many strange places and people?” + +“Why,” I exclaimed, “haven't you seen anything strange around here?'” + +“Why, no--” glancing quickly around her. + +“Well, I'm strange, am I not?” + +“Well--” + +“And you're strange.” + +She looked at me with the utmost amazement. I could scarcely keep from +laughing. + +“I assure you,” I said, “that if you travel a thousand miles you will +find no one stranger than I am--or you are--nor anything more wonderful +than all this--” and I waved my hand. + +This time she looked really alarmed, glancing quickly toward the house, +so that I began to laugh. + +“Madam,” I said, “good morning!” + +So I left her standing there by the fence looking after me, and I went +on down the road. + +“Well,” I said, “she'll have something new to talk about. It may add a +month to her life. Was there ever such an amusing world!” + +About noon that day I had an adventure that I have to laugh over every +time I think of it. It was unusual, too, as being almost the only +incident of my journey which was of itself in the least thrilling or out +of the ordinary. Why, this might have made an item in the country paper! + +For the first time on my trip I saw a man that I really felt like +calling a tramp--a tramp in the generally accepted sense of the term. +When I left home I imagined I should meet many tramps, and perhaps learn +from them odd and curious things about life; but when I actually came +into contact with the shabby men of the road, I began to be puzzled. +What was a tramp, anyway? + +I found them all strangely different, each with his own distinctive +history, and each accounting for himself as logically as I could for +myself. And save for the fact that in none of them I met were the +outward graces and virtues too prominently displayed, I have come back +quite uncertain as to what a scientist might call type-characteristics. +I had thought of following Emerson in his delightfully optimistic +definition of a weed. A weed, he says, is a plant whose virtues have +not been discovered. A tramp, then, is a man whose virtues have not been +discovered. Or, I might follow my old friend the Professor (who dearly +loves all growing things) in his even kindlier definition of a weed. +He says that it is merely a plant misplaced. The virility of this +definition has often impressed me when I have tried to grub the +excellent and useful horseradish plants out of my asparagus bed! Let +it be then--a tramp is a misplaced man, whose virtues have not been +discovered. + +Whether this is an adequate definition or not, it fitted admirably the +man I overtook that morning on the road. He was certainly misplaced, and +during my brief but exciting experience with him I discovered no virtues +whatever. + +In one way he was quite different from the traditional tramp. He walked +with far too lively a step, too jauntily, and he had with him a small, +shaggy, nondescript dog, a dog as shabby as he, trotting close at his +heels. He carried a light stick, which he occasionally twirled over in +his hand. As I drew nearer I could hear him whistling and even, from +time to time, breaking into a lively bit of song. What a devil-may-care +chap he seemed, anyway! I was greatly interested. + +When at length I drew alongside he did not seem in the least surprised. +He turned, glanced at me with his bold black eyes, and broke out again +into the song he was singing. And these were the words of his song--at +least, all I can remember of them: + + Oh, I'm so fine and gay, + I'm so fine and gay, + I have to take a dog along, + To kape the ga-irls away. + +What droll zest he put into it! He had a red nose, a globular red nose +set on his face like an overgrown strawberry, and from under the worst +derby hat in the world burst his thick curly hair. + +“Oh, I'm so fine and gay,” he sang, stepping to the rhythm of his song, +and looking the very image of good-humoured impudence. I can't tell how +amused and pleased I was--though if I had known what was to happen later +I might not have been quite so friendly--yes, I would too! + +We fell into conversation, and it wasn't long before I suggested that +we stop for luncheon together somewhere along the road. He cast a quick +appraising eye at my bag, and assented with alacrity. We climbed a fence +and found a quiet spot near a little brook. + +I was much astonished to observe the resources of my jovial companion. +Although he carried neither bag nor pack and appeared to have +nothing whatever in his pockets, he proceeded, like a professional +prestidigitator, to produce from his shabby clothing an extraordinary +number of curious things--a black tin can with a wire handle, a small +box of matches, a soiled package which I soon learned contained tea, +a miraculously big dry sausage wrapped in an old newspaper, and a +clasp-knife. I watched him with breathless interest. + +He cut a couple of crotched sticks to hang the pail on and in two or +three minutes had a little fire, no larger than a man's hand, burning +brightly under it. (“Big fires,” said he wisely, “are not for us.”) This +he fed with dry twigs, and in a very few minutes he had a pot of tea +from which he offered me the first drink. This, with my luncheon and +part of his sausage, made up a very good meal. + +While we were eating, the little dog sat sedately by the fire. From time +to time his master would say, “Speak, Jimmy.” + +Jimmy would sit up on his haunches, his two front paws hanging limp, +turn his head to one side in the drollest way imaginable and give a +yelp. His master would toss him a bit of sausage or bread and he would +catch it with a snap. + +“Fine dog!” commented my companion. + +“So he seems,” said I. + +After the meal was over my companion proceeded to produce other +surprises from his pockets--a bag of tobacco, a brier pipe (which he +kindly offered to me and which I kindly refused), and a soiled packet of +cigarette papers. Having rolled a cigarette with practised facility, he +leaned up against a tree, took off his hat, lighted the cigarette +and, having taken a long draw at it, blew the smoke before him with an +incredible air of satisfaction. + +“Solid comfort this here--hey!” he exclaimed. + +We had some further talk, but for so jovial a specimen he was +surprisingly uncommunicative. Indeed, I think he soon decided that I +somehow did not belong to the fraternity, that I was a “farmer”--in the +most opprobrious sense--and he soon began to drowse, rousing himself +once or twice to roll another cigarette, but finally dropping +(apparently, at least) fast asleep. + +I was glad enough of the rest and quiet after the strenuous experience +of the last two days--and I, too, soon began to drowse. It didn't seem +to me then that I lost consciousness at all, but I suppose I must have +done so, for when I suddenly opened my eyes and sat up my companion +had vanished. How he succeeded in gathering up his pail and packages so +noiselessly and getting away so quickly is a mystery to me. + +“Well,” I said, “that's odd.” + +Rousing myself deliberately I put on my hat and was about to take up +my bag when I suddenly discovered that it was open. My rain-cape was +missing! It wasn't a very good rain-cape, but it was missing. + +At first I was inclined to be angry, but when I thought of my jovial +companion and the cunning way in which he had tricked me, I couldn't +help laughing. At the same time I jumped up quickly and ran down the +road. + +“I may get him yet,” I said. + +Just as I stepped out of the woods I caught a glimpse of a man some +hundreds of yards away, turning quickly from the main road into a lane +or by-path. I wasn't altogether sure that he was my man, but I ran +across the road and climbed the fence. I had formed the plan instantly +of cutting across the field and so striking the by-road farther up the +hill. I had a curious sense of amused exultation, the very spirit of the +chase, and my mind dwelt with the liveliest excitement on what I should +say or do if I really caught that jolly spark of impudence. + +So I came by way of a thicket along an old stone fence to the by-road, +and there, sure enough, only a little way ahead of me, was my man with +the shaggy little dog close at his heels. He was making pretty good +time, but I skirted swiftly along the edge of the road until I had +nearly overtaken him. Then I slowed down to a walk and stepped out into +the middle of the road. I confess my heart was pounding at a lively +rate. The next time he looked behind him--guiltily enough, too!--I said +in the calmest voice I could command: + +“Well, brother, you almost left me behind.” + +He stopped and I stepped up to him. + +I wish I could describe the look in his face--mingled astonishment, +fear, and defiance. + +“My friend,” I said, “I'm disappointed in you.” + +He made no reply. + +“Yes, I'm disappointed. You did such a very poor job.” + +“Poor job!” he exclaimed. + +“Yes,” I said, and I slipped my bag off my shoulder and began to rummage +inside. My companion watched me silently and suspiciously. + +“You should not have left the rubbers.” + +With that I handed him my old rubbers. A peculiar expression came into +the man's face. + +“Say, pardner, what you drivin' at?” + +“Well,” I said, “I don't like to see such evidences of haste and +inefficiency.” + +He stood staring at me helplessly, holding my old rubbers at arm's +length. + +“Come on now,” I said, “that's over. We'll walk along together.” + +I was about to take his arm, but quick as a flash he dodged, cast both +rubbers and rain-cape away from him, and ran down the road for all he +was worth, the little dog, looking exactly like a rolling ball of fur, +pelting after him. He never once glanced back, but ran for his life. I +stood there and laughed until the tears came, and ever since then, at +the thought of the expression on the jolly rover's face when I gave him +my rubbers, I've had to smile. I put the rain-cape and rubbers back into +my bag and turned again to the road. + + +Before the afternoon was nearly spent I found myself very tired, for +my two days' experience in the city had been more exhausting for me, I +think, than a whole month of hard labour on my farm. I found haven with +a friendly farmer, whom I joined while he was driving his cows in from +the pasture. I helped him with his milking both that night and the next +morning, and found his situation and family most interesting--but I +shall not here enlarge upon that experience. + +It was late afternoon when I finally surmounted the hill from which +I knew well enough I could catch the first glimpse of my farm. For +a moment after I reached the top I could not raise my eyes, and when +finally I was able to raise them I could not see. + +“There is a spot in Arcady--a spot in Arcady--a spot in Arcady--” So +runs the old song. + +There IS a spot in Arcady, and at the centre of it there is a +weather-worn old house, and not far away a perfect oak tree, and green +fields all about, and a pleasant stream fringed with alders in the +little valley. And out of the chimney into the sweet, still evening air +rises the slow white smoke of the supper-fire. + +I turned from the main road, and climbed the fence and walked across +my upper field to the old wood lane. The air was heavy and sweet with +clover blossoms, and along the fences I could see that the raspberry +bushes were ripening their fruit. + +So I came down the lane and heard the comfortable grunting of pigs in +the pasture lot and saw the calves licking one another as they stood at +the gate. + +“How they've grown!” I said. + +I stopped at the corner of the barn for a moment. From within I heard +the rattling of milk in a pail (a fine sound), and heard a man's voice +saying: + +“Whoa, there! Stiddy now!” + +“Dick's milking,” I said. + +So I stepped in at the doorway. + +“Lord, Mr. Grayson!” exclaimed Dick, rising instantly and clasping my +hand like a long-lost brother. + +“I'm glad to see you!” + +“I'm glad to see YOU!” + +The warm smell of the new milk, the pleasant sound of animals stepping +about in the stable, the old mare reaching her long head over the +stanchion to welcome me, and nipping at my fingers when I rubbed her +nose-- + +And there was the old house with the late sun upon it, the vines hanging +green over the porch, Harriet's trim flower bed--I crept along quietly +to the corner. The kitchen door stood open. + +“Well, Harriet!” I said, stepping inside. + +“Mercy! David!” + +I have rarely known Harriet to be in quite such a reckless mood. She +kept thinking of a new kind of sauce or jam for supper (I think there +were seven, or were there twelve? on the table before I got through). +And there was a new rhubarb pie such as only Harriet can make, just +brown enough on top, and not too brown, with just the right sort of +hills and hummocks in the crust, and here and there little sugary +bubbles where a suggestion of the goodness came through--such a pie--! +and such an appetite to go with it! + +“Harriet,” I said, “you're spoiling me. Haven't you heard how dangerous +it is to set such a supper as this before a man who is perishing with +hunger? Have you no mercy for me?” + +This remark produced the most extraordinary effect. Harriet was at that +moment standing in the corner near the pump. Her shoulders suddenly +began to shake convulsively. + +“She's so glad I'm home that she can't help laughing,” I thought, which +shows how penetrating I really am. + +She was crying. + +“Why, Harriet!” I exclaimed. + +“Hungry!” she burst out, “and j-joking about it!” + +I couldn't say a single word; something--it must have been a piece of +the rhubarb pie--stuck in my throat. So I sat there and watched her +moving quietly about in that immaculate kitchen. After a time I walked +over to where she stood by the table and put my arm around her quickly. +She half turned her head, in her quick, businesslike way. I noted how +firm and clean and sweet her face was. + +“Harriet,” I said, “you grow younger every year.” + +No response. + +“Harriet,” I said, “I haven't seen a single person anywhere on my +journey that I like as much as I do you.” + +The quick blood came up. + +“There--there--David!” she said. + +So I stepped away. + +“And as for rhubarb pie, Harriet--” + +When I first came to my farm years ago there were mornings when I woke +up with the strong impression that I had just been hearing the most +exquisite sounds of music. I don't know whether this is at all a common +experience, but in those days (and farther back in my early boyhood) I +had it frequently. It did not seem exactly like music either, but was +rather a sense of harmony, so wonderful, so pervasive that it cannot +be described. I have not had it so often in recent years, but on the +morning after I reached home it came to me as I awakened with a strange +depth and sweetness. I lay for a moment there in my clean bed. The +morning sun was up and coming in cheerfully through the vines at the +window; a gentle breeze stirred the clean white curtains, and I could +smell even there the odours of the garden. + +I wish I had room to tell, but I cannot, of all the crowded experiences +of that day--the renewal of acquaintance with the fields, the cattle, +the fowls, the bees, of my long talks with Harriet and Dick Sheridan, +who had cared for my work while I was away; of the wonderful visit of +the Scotch Preacher, of Horace's shrewd and whimsical comments upon the +general absurdity of the head of the Grayson family--oh, of a thousand +things--and how when I went into my study and took up the nearest book +in my favourite case--it chanced to be “The Bible in Spain”--it opened +of itself at one of my favourite passages, the one beginning: + +“Mistos amande, I am content--” + + +So it's all over! It has been a great experience; and it seems to me +now that I have a firmer grip on life, and a firmer trust in that Power +which orders the ages. In a book I read not long ago, called “A Modern +Utopia,” the writer provides in his imaginary perfect state of society +a class of leaders known as Samurai. And, from time to time, it is the +custom of these Samurai to cut themselves loose from the crowding world +of men, and with packs on their backs go away alone to far places in the +deserts or on Arctic ice caps. I am convinced that every man needs some +such change as this, an opportunity to think things out, to get a new +grip on life, and a new hold on God. But not for me the Arctic ice cap +or the desert! I choose the Friendly Road--and all the common people who +travel in it or live along it--I choose even the busy city at the end of +it. + +I assure you, friend, that it is a wonderful thing for a man to cast +himself freely for a time upon the world, not knowing where his next +meal is coming from, nor where he is going to sleep for the night. It is +a surprising readjuster of values. I paid my way, I think, throughout +my pilgrimage; but I discovered that stamped metal is far from being the +world's only true coin. As a matter of fact, there are many things that +men prize more highly--because they are rarer and more precious. + +My friend, if you should chance yourself some day to follow the Friendly +Road, you may catch a fleeting glimpse of a man in a rusty hat, carrying +a gray bag, and sometimes humming a little song under his breath for the +joy of being there. And it may actually happen, if you stop him, that he +will take a tin whistle from his bag and play for you, “Money Musk,” or +“Old Dan Tucker,” or he may produce a battered old volume of Montaigne +from which he will read you a passage. If such an adventure should +befall you, know that you have met + +Your friend, + +David Grayson. + +P. S.--Harriet bemoans most of all the unsolved mystery of the sign man. +But it doesn't bother me in the least. I'm glad now I never found him. +The poet sings his song and goes his way. If we sought him out how +horribly disappointed we might be! We might find him shaving, or eating +sausage, or drinking a bottle of beer. We might find him shaggy and +unkempt where we imagined him beautiful, weak where we thought him +strong, dull where we thought him brilliant. Take then the vintage of +his heart and let him go. As for me, I'm glad some mystery is left in +this world. A thousand signs on my roadways are still as unexplainable, +as mysterious, and as beguiling as this. And I can close my narrative +with no better motto for tired spirits than that of the country +roadside: + +[ REST ] + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Friendly Road, by +(AKA David Grayson) Ray Stannard Baker + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FRIENDLY ROAD *** + +***** This file should be named 2479-0.txt or 2479-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/4/7/2479/ + +Produced by Aaron Cannon + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/2479-0.zip b/2479-0.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..bb43007 --- /dev/null +++ b/2479-0.zip diff --git a/2479-h.zip b/2479-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..d3bd294 --- /dev/null +++ b/2479-h.zip diff --git a/2479-h/2479-h.htm b/2479-h/2479-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c037074 --- /dev/null +++ b/2479-h/2479-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,8479 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + The Friendly Road, by David Grayson (pseud. Of Ray Stannard Baker) + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Friendly Road, by +(AKA David Grayson) Ray Stannard Baker + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Friendly Road + New Adventures in Contentment + +Author: (AKA David Grayson) Ray Stannard Baker + +Release Date: December 13, 2008 [EBook #2479] +Last Updated: March 14, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FRIENDLY ROAD *** + + + + +Produced by Aaron Cannon, and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + THE FRIENDLY ROAD + </h1> + <h1> + New Adventures in Contentment + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By David Grayson (Pseud. of Ray Stannard Baker) + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Author of + “Adventure in Contentment,” + “Adventures in Friendship” + </pre> + <h3> + Illustrated by Thomas Fogarty <br /><br /> Copyright, 1913, by DOUBLEDAY, + PAGE & COMPANY + </h3> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Surely it is good to be alive at a time like this.” + </pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE FRIENDLY ROAD + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + A WORD TO HIM WHO OPENS THIS BOOK + </h2> + <p> + I did not plan when I began writing these chapters to make an entire book, + but only to put down the more or less unusual impressions, the events and + adventures, of certain quiet pilgrimages in country roads. But when I had + written down all of these things, I found I had material in plenty. + </p> + <p> + “What shall I call it now that I have written it?” I asked myself. + </p> + <p> + At first I thought I should call it “Adventures on the Road,” or “The + Country Road,” or something equally simple, for I would not have the title + arouse any appetite which the book itself could not satisfy. One pleasant + evening I was sitting on my porch with my dog sleeping near me, and + Harriet not far away rocking and sewing, and as I looked out across the + quiet fields I could see in the distance a curving bit of the town road. I + could see the valley below it and the green hill beyond, and my mind went + out swiftly along the country road which I had so recently travelled on + foot, and I thought with deep satisfaction of all the people I had met on + my pilgrimages—the Country Minister with his problems, the buoyant + Stanleys, Bill Hahn the Socialist, the Vedders in their garden, the Brush + Peddler. I thought of the Wonderful City, and of how for a time I had been + caught up into its life. I thought of the men I met at the livery stable, + especially Healy, the wit, and of that strange Girl of the Street. And it + was good to think of them all living around me, not so very far away, + connected with me through darkness and space by a certain mysterious human + cord. Most of all I love that which I cannot see beyond the hill. + </p> + <p> + “Harriet,” I said aloud, “it grows more wonderful every year how full the + world is of friendly people!” + </p> + <p> + So I got up quickly and came in here to my room, and taking a fresh sheet + of paper I wrote down the title of my new book: + </p> + <p> + “The Friendly Road.” + </p> + <p> + I invite you to travel with me upon this friendly road. You may find, as I + did, something which will cause you for a time, to forget yourself into + contentment. But if you chance to be a truly serious person, put down my + book. Let nothing stay your hurried steps, nor keep you from your way. + </p> + <p> + As for those of us who remain, we will loiter as much as ever we please. + We'll take toll of these spring days, we'll stop wherever evening + overtakes us, we'll eat the food of hospitality—and make friends for + life! + </p> + <p> + DAVID GRAYSON. <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + Contents + </h2> + <p> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> THE FRIENDLY ROAD </a><br /><br /> <a + href="#link2H_4_0002"> A WORD TO HIM WHO OPENS THIS BOOK </a><br /><br /> + </p> + <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. </a> + </td> + <td> + I LEAVE MY FARM + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. </a> + </td> + <td> + I WHISTLE + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE HOUSE BY THE SIDE OF THE ROAD + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. </a> + </td> + <td> + I AM THE SPECTATOR OF A MIGHTY BATTLE + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. </a> + </td> + <td> + I PLAY THE PART OF A SPECTACLE PEDDLER + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. </a> + </td> + <td> + AN EXPERIMENT IN HUMAN NATURE + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE UNDISCOVERED COUNTRY + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE HEDGE + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE MAN POSSESSED + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. </a> + </td> + <td> + I AM CAUGHT UP INTO LIFE + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. </a> + </td> + <td> + I COME TO GRAPPLE WITH THE CITY + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE RETURN + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. I LEAVE MY FARM + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Is it so small a thing + To have enjoyed the sun, + To have lived light in spring?” + </pre> + <p> + It is eight o'clock of a sunny spring morning. I have been on the road for + almost three hours. At five I left the town of Holt, before six I had + crossed the railroad at a place called Martin's Landing, and an hour ago, + at seven, I could see in the distance the spires of Nortontown. And all + the morning as I came tramping along the fine country roads with my + pack-strap resting warmly on my shoulder, and a song in my throat—just + nameless words to a nameless tune—and all the birds singing, and all + the brooks bright under their little bridges, I knew that I must soon step + aside and put down, if I could, some faint impression of the feeling of + this time and place. I cannot hope to convey any adequate sense of it all—of + the feeling of lightness, strength, clearness, I have as I sit here under + this maple tree—but I am going to write as long as ever I am happy + at it, and when I am no longer happy at it, why, here at my very hand lies + the pleasant country road, stretching away toward newer hills and richer + scenes. + </p> + <p> + Until to-day I have not really been quite clear in my own mind as to the + step I have taken. My sober friend, have you ever tried to do anything + that the world at large considers not quite sensible, not quite sane? Try + it! It is easier to commit a thundering crime. A friend of mine delights + in walking to town bareheaded, and I fully believe the neighbourhood is + more disquieted thereby than it would be if my friend came home drunken or + failed to pay his debts. + </p> + <p> + Here I am then, a farmer, forty miles from home in planting time, taking + his ease under a maple tree and writing in a little book held on his knee! + Is not that the height of absurdity? Of all my friends the Scotch Preacher + was the only one who seemed to understand why it was that I must go away + for a time. Oh, I am a sinful and revolutionary person! + </p> + <p> + When I left home last week, if you could have had a truthful picture of me—for + is there not a photography so delicate that it will catch the dim + thought-shapes which attend upon our lives?—if you could have had + such a truthful picture of me, you would have seen, besides a farmer named + Grayson with a gray bag hanging from his shoulder, a strange company + following close upon his steps. Among this crew you would have made out + easily: + </p> + <p> + Two fine cows. Four Berkshire pigs. One team of gray horses, the old mare + a little lame in her right foreleg. About fifty hens, four cockerels, and + a number of ducks and geese. + </p> + <p> + More than this—I shall offer no explanation in these writings of any + miracles that may appear—you would have seen an entirely respectable + old farmhouse bumping and hobbling along as best it might in the rear. And + in the doorway, Harriet Grayson, in her immaculate white apron, with the + veritable look in her eyes which she wears when I am not comporting myself + with quite the proper decorum. + </p> + <p> + Oh, they would not let me go! How they all followed clamoring after me. My + thoughts coursed backward faster than ever I could run away. If you could + have heard that motley crew of the barnyard as I did—the hens all + cackling, the ducks quacking, the pigs grunting, and the old mare neighing + and stamping, you would have thought it a miracle that I escaped at all. + </p> + <p> + So often we think in a superior and lordly manner of our possessions, + when, as a matter of fact, we do not really possess them, they possess us. + For ten years I have been the humble servant, attending upon the commonest + daily needs of sundry hens, ducks, geese, pigs, bees, and of a fussy and + exacting old gray mare. And the habit of servitude, I find, has worn deep + scars upon me. I am almost like the life prisoner who finds the door of + his cell suddenly open, and fears to escape. Why, I had almost become ALL + farmer. + </p> + <p> + On the first morning after I left home I awoke as usual about five o'clock + with the irresistible feeling that I must do the milking. So well + disciplined had I become in my servitude that I instinctively thrust my + leg out of bed—but pulled it quickly back in again, turned over, + drew a long, luxurious breath, and said to myself: + </p> + <p> + “Avaunt cows! Get thee behind me, swine! Shoo, hens!” + </p> + <p> + Instantly the clatter of mastery to which I had responded so quickly for + so many years grew perceptibly fainter, the hens cackled less + domineeringly, the pigs squealed less insistently, and as for the + strutting cockerel, that lordly and despotic bird stopped fairly in the + middle of a crow, and his voice gurgled away in a spasm of astonishment. + As for the old farmhouse, it grew so dim I could scarcely see it at all! + Having thus published abroad my Declaration of Independence, nailed my + defiance to the door, and otherwise established myself as a free person, I + turned over in my bed and took another delicious nap. + </p> + <p> + Do you know, friend, we can be free of many things that dominate our lives + by merely crying out a rebellious “Avaunt!” + </p> + <p> + But in spite of this bold beginning, I assure you it required several days + to break the habit of cows and hens. The second morning I awakened again + at five o'clock, but my leg did not make for the side of the bed; the + third morning I was only partially awakened, and on the fourth morning I + slept like a millionaire (or at least I slept as a millionaire is supposed + to sleep!) until the clock struck seven. + </p> + <p> + For some days after I left home—and I walked out as casually that + morning as though I were going to the barn—I scarcely thought or + tried to think of anything but the Road. Such an unrestrained sense of + liberty, such an exaltation of freedom, I have not known since I was a + lad. When I came to my farm from the city many years ago it was as one + bound, as one who had lost out in the World's battle and was seeking to + get hold again somewhere upon the realities of life. I have related + elsewhere how I thus came creeping like one sore wounded from the field of + battle, and how, among our hills, in the hard, steady labour in the soil + of the fields, with new and simple friends around me, I found a sort of + rebirth or resurrection. I that was worn out, bankrupt both physically and + morally, learned to live again. I have achieved something of high + happiness in these years, something I know of pure contentment; and I have + learned two or three deep and simple things about life: I have learned + that happiness is not to be had for the seeking, but comes quietly to him + who pauses at his difficult task and looks upward. I have learned that + friendship is very simple, and, more than all else, I have learned the + lesson of being quiet, of looking out across the meadows and hills, and of + trusting a little in God. + </p> + <p> + And now, for the moment, I am regaining another of the joys of youth—that + of the sense of perfect freedom. I made no plans when I left home, I + scarcely chose the direction in which I was to travel, but drifted out, as + a boy might, into the great busy world. Oh, I have dreamed of that! It + seems almost as though, after ten years, I might again really touch the + highest joys of adventure! + </p> + <p> + So I took the Road as it came, as a man takes a woman, for better or worse—I + took the Road, and the farms along it, and the sleepy little villages, and + the streams from the hillsides—all with high enjoyment. They were + good coin in my purse! And when I had passed the narrow horizon of my + acquaintanceship, and reached country new to me, it seemed as though every + sense I had began to awaken. I must have grown dull, unconsciously, in the + last years there on my farm. I cannot describe the eagerness of discovery + I felt at climbing each new hill, nor the long breath I took at the top of + it as I surveyed new stretches of pleasant countryside. + </p> + <p> + Assuredly this is one of the royal moments of all the year—fine, + cool, sparkling spring weather. I think I never saw the meadows richer and + greener—and the lilacs are still blooming, and the catbirds and + orioles are here. The oaks are not yet in full leaf, but the maples have + nearly reached their full mantle of verdure—they are very beautiful + and charming to see. + </p> + <p> + It is curious how at this moment of the year all the world seems astir. I + suppose there is no moment in any of the seasons when the whole army of + agriculture, regulars and reserves, is so fully drafted for service in the + fields. And all the doors and windows, both in the little villages and on + the farms, stand wide open to the sunshine, and all the women and girls + are busy in the yards and gardens. Such a fine, active, gossipy, + adventurous world as it is at this moment of the year! + </p> + <p> + It is the time, too, when all sorts of travelling people are afoot. People + who have been mewed up in the cities for the winter now take to the open + road—all the peddlers and agents and umbrella-menders, all the + nursery salesmen and fertilizer agents, all the tramps and scientists and + poets—all abroad in the wide sunny roads. They, too, know well this + hospitable moment of the spring; they, too, know that doors and hearts are + open and that even into dull lives creeps a bit of the spirit of + adventure. Why, a farmer will buy a corn planter, feed a tramp, or listen + to a poet twice as easily at this time of year as at any other! + </p> + <p> + For several days I found myself so fully occupied with the bustling life + of the Road that I scarcely spoke to a living soul, but strode straight + ahead. The spring has been late and cold: most of the corn and some of the + potatoes are not yet in, and the tobacco lands are still bare and brown. + Occasionally I stopped to watch some ploughman in the fields: I saw with a + curious, deep satisfaction how the moist furrows, freshly turned, + glistened in the warm sunshine. There seemed to be something right and fit + about it, as well as human and beautiful. Or at evening I would stop to + watch a ploughman driving homeward across his new brown fields, raising a + cloud of fine dust from the fast drying furrow crests. The low sun shining + through the dust and glorifying it, the weary-stepping horses, the man all + sombre-coloured like the earth itself and knit into the scene as though a + part of it, made a picture exquisitely fine to see. + </p> + <p> + And what a joy I had also of the lilacs blooming in many a dooryard, the + odour often trailing after me for a long distance in the road, and of the + pungent scent at evening in the cool hollows of burning brush heaps and + the smell of barnyards as I went by—not unpleasant, not offensive—and + above all, the deep, earthy, moist odour of new-ploughed fields. + </p> + <p> + And then, at evening, to hear the sound of voices from the dooryards as I + pass quite unseen; no words, but just pleasant, quiet intonations of human + voices, borne through the still air, or the low sounds of cattle in the + barnyards, quieting down for the night, and often, if near a village, the + distant, slumbrous sound of a church bell, or even the rumble of a train—how + good all these sounds are! They have all come to me again this week with + renewed freshness and impressiveness. I am living deep again! + </p> + <p> + It was not, indeed, until last Wednesday that I began to get my fill, + temporarily, of the outward satisfaction of the Road—the primeval + takings of the senses—the mere joys of seeing, hearing, smelling, + touching. But on that day I began to wake up; I began to have a desire to + know something of all the strange and interesting people who are working + in their fields, or standing invitingly in their doorways, or so busily + afoot in the country roads. Let me add, also, for this is one of the most + important parts of my present experience, that this new desire was far + from being wholly esoteric. I had also begun to have cravings which would + not in the least be satisfied by landscapes or dulled by the sights and + sounds of the road. A whiff here and there from a doorway at mealtime had + made me long for my own home, for the sight of Harriet calling from the + steps: + </p> + <p> + “Dinner, David.” + </p> + <p> + But I had covenanted with myself long before starting that I would + literally “live light in spring.” It was the one and primary condition I + made with myself—and made with serious purpose—and when I came + away I had only enough money in my pocket and sandwiches in my pack to see + me through the first three or four days. Any man may brutally pay his way + anywhere, but it is quite another thing to be accepted by your humankind + not as a paid lodger but as a friend. Always, it seems to me, I have + wanted to submit myself, and indeed submit the stranger, to that test. + Moreover, how can any man look for true adventure in life if he always + knows to a certainty where his next meal is coming from? In a world so + completely dominated by goods, by things, by possessions, and smothered by + security, what fine adventure is left to a man of spirit save the + adventure of poverty? + </p> + <p> + I do not mean by this the adventure of involuntary poverty, for I maintain + that involuntary poverty, like involuntary riches, is a credit to no man. + It is only as we dominate life that we really live. What I mean here, if I + may so express it, is an adventure in achieved poverty. In the lives of + such true men as Francis of Assisi and Tolstoi, that which draws the world + to them in secret sympathy is not that they lived lives of poverty, but + rather, having riches at their hands, or for the very asking, that they + chose poverty as the better way of life. + </p> + <p> + As for me, I do not in the least pretend to have accepted the final logic + of an achieved poverty. I have merely abolished temporarily from my life a + few hens and cows, a comfortable old farmhouse, and—certain other + emoluments and hereditaments—but remain the slave of sundry cloth + upon my back and sundry articles in my gray bag—including a fat + pocket volume or so, and a tin whistle. Let them pass now. To-morrow I may + wish to attempt life with still less. I might survive without my battered + copy of “Montaigne” or even submit to existence without that sense of + distant companionship symbolized by a postage-stamp, and as for trousers— + </p> + <p> + In this deceptive world, how difficult of attainment is perfection! + </p> + <p> + No, I expect I shall continue for a long time to owe the worm his silk, + the beast his hide, the sheep his wool, and the cat his perfume! What I am + seeking is something as simple and as quiet as the trees or the hills—just + to look out around me at the pleasant countryside, to enjoy a little of + this show, to meet (and to help a little if I may) a few human beings, and + thus to get nearly into the sweet kernel of human life. My friend, you may + or may not think this a worthy object; if you do not, stop here, go no + further with me; but if you do, why, we'll exchange great words on the + road; we'll look up at the sky together, we'll see and hear the finest + things in this world! We'll enjoy the sun! We'll live light in spring! + </p> + <p> + Until last Tuesday, then, I was carried easily and comfortably onward by + the corn, the eggs, and the honey of my past labours, and before Wednesday + noon I began to experience in certain vital centres recognizable symptoms + of a variety of discomfort anciently familiar to man. And it was all the + sharper because I did not know how or where I could assuage it. In all my + life, in spite of various ups and downs in a fat world, I don't think I + was ever before genuinely hungry. Oh, I've been hungry in a reasonable, + civilized way, but I have always known where in an hour or so I could get + all I wanted to eat—a condition accountable, in this world, I am + convinced, for no end of stupidity. But to be both physically and, let us + say, psychologically hungry, and not to know where or how to get anything + to eat, adds something to the zest of life. + </p> + <p> + By noon on Wednesday, then, I was reduced quite to a point of necessity. + But where was I to begin, and how? I know from long experience the + suspicion with which the ordinary farmer meets the Man of the Road—the + man who appears to wish to enjoy the fruits of the earth without working + for them with his hands. It is a distrust deep-seated and ages old. Nor + can the Man of the Road ever quite understand the Man of the Fields. And + here was I, for so long the stationary Man of the Fields, essaying the + role of the Man of the Road. I experienced a sudden sense of the + enlivenment of the faculties: I must now depend upon wit or cunning or + human nature to win my way, not upon mere skill of the hand or strength in + the bent back. Whereas in my former life, when I was assailed by a Man of + the Road, whether tramp or peddler or poet, I had only to stand + stock-still within my fences and say nothing—though indeed I never + could do that, being far too much interested in every one who came my way—and + the invader was soon repelled. There is nothing so resistant as the dull + security of possession the stolidity of ownership! + </p> + <p> + Many times that day I stopped by a field side or at the end of a lane, or + at a house-gate, and considered the possibilities of making an attack. Oh, + I measured the houses and barns I saw with a new eye! The kind of country + I had known so long and familiarly became a new and foreign land, full of + strange possibilities. I spied out the men in the fields and did not fail, + also, to see what I could of the commissary department of each farmstead + as I passed. I walked for miles looking thus for a favourable opening—and + with a sensation of embarrassment at once disagreeable and pleasurable. As + the afternoon began to deepen I saw that I must absolutely do something: a + whole day tramping in the open air without a bite to eat is an + irresistible argument. + </p> + <p> + Presently I saw from the road a farmer and his son planting potatoes in a + sloping field. There was no house at all in view. At the bars stood a + light wagon half filled with bags of seed potatoes, and the horse which + had drawn it stood quietly, not far off, tied to the fence. The man and + the boy, each with a basket on his arm, were at the farther end of the + field, dropping potatoes. I stood quietly watching them. They stepped + quickly and kept their eyes on the furrows: good workers. I liked the + looks of them. I liked also the straight, clean furrows; I liked the + appearance of the horse. + </p> + <p> + “I will stop here,” I said to myself. + </p> + <p> + I cannot at all convey the sense of high adventure I had as I stood there. + Though I had not the slightest idea of what I should do or say, yet I was + determined upon the attack. + </p> + <p> + Neither father nor son saw me until they had nearly reached the end of the + field. + </p> + <p> + “Step lively, Ben,” I heard the man say with some impatience; “we've got + to finish this field to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “I AM steppin' lively, dad,” responded the boy, “but it's awful hot. We + can't possibly finish to-day. It's too much.” + </p> + <p> + “We've got to get through here to-day,” the man replied grimly; “we're + already two weeks late.” + </p> + <p> + I know just how the man felt; for I knew well the difficulty a farmer has + in getting help in planting time. The spring waits for no man. My heart + went out to the man and boy struggling there in the heat of their field. + For this is the real warfare of the common life. + </p> + <p> + “Why,” I said to myself with a curious lift of the heart, “they have need + of a fellow just like me.” + </p> + <p> + At that moment the boy saw me and, missing a step in the rhythm of the + planting, the father also looked up and saw me. But neither said a word + until the furrows were finished, and the planters came to refill their + baskets. + </p> + <p> + “Fine afternoon,” I said, sparring for an opening. + </p> + <p> + “Fine,” responded the man rather shortly, glancing up from his work. I + recalled the scores of times I had been exactly in his place, and had + glanced up to see the stranger in the road. + </p> + <p> + “Got another basket handy?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “There is one somewhere around here,” he answered not too cordially. The + boy said nothing at all, but eyed me with absorbing interest. The gloomy + look had already gone from his face. + </p> + <p> + I slipped my gray bag from my shoulder, took off my coat, and put them + both down inside the fence. Then I found the basket and began to fill it + from one of the bags. Both man and boy looked up at me questioningly. I + enjoyed the situation immensely. + </p> + <p> + “I heard you say to your son,” I said, “that you'd have to hurry in order + to get in your potatoes to-day. I can see that for myself. Let me take a + hand for a row or two.” + </p> + <p> + The unmistakable shrewd look of the bargainer came suddenly into the man's + face, but when I went about my business without hesitation or questioning, + he said nothing at all. As for the boy, the change in his countenance was + marvellous to see. Something new and astonishing had come into the world. + Oh, I know what a thing it is to be a boy and to work in trouting time! + </p> + <p> + “How near are you planting, Ben?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “About fourteen inches.” + </p> + <p> + So we began in fine spirits. I was delighted with the favourable beginning + of my enterprise; there is nothing which so draws men together as their + employment at a common task. + </p> + <p> + Ben was a lad some fifteen years old-very stout and stocky, with a fine + open countenance and a frank blue eye—all boy. His nose was as + freckled as the belly of a trout. The whole situation, including the + prospect of help in finishing a tiresome job, pleased him hugely. He stole + a glimpse from time to time at me then at his father. Finally he said: + </p> + <p> + “Say, you'll have to step lively to keep up with dad.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll show you,” I said, “how we used to drop potatoes when I was a boy.” + </p> + <p> + And with that I began to step ahead more quickly and make the pieces + fairly fly. + </p> + <p> + “We old fellows,” I said to the father, “must give these young sprouts a + lesson once in a while.” + </p> + <p> + “You will, will you?” responded the boy, and instantly began to drop the + potatoes at a prodigious speed. The father followed with more dignity, but + with evident amusement, and so we all came with a rush to the end of the + row. + </p> + <p> + “I guess that beats the record across THIS field!” remarked the lad, + puffing and wiping his forehead. “Say, but you're a good one!” + </p> + <p> + It gave me a peculiar thrill of pleasure; there is nothing more pleasing + than the frank admiration of a boy. + </p> + <p> + We paused a moment and I said to the man: “This looks like fine potato + land.” + </p> + <p> + “The' ain't any better in these parts,” he replied with some pride in his + voice. + </p> + <p> + And so we went at the planting again: and as we planted we had great talk + of seed potatoes and the advantages and disadvantages of mechanical + planters, of cultivating and spraying, and all the lore of prices and + profits. Once we stopped at the lower end of the field to get a drink from + a jug of water set in the shade of a fence corner, and once we set the + horse in the thills and moved the seed farther up the field. And tired and + hungry as I felt I really enjoyed the work; I really enjoyed talking with + this busy father and son, and I wondered what their home life was like and + what were their real ambitions and hopes. Thus the sun sank lower and + lower, the long shadows began to creep into the valleys, and we came + finally toward the end of the field. Suddenly the boy Ben cried out: + </p> + <p> + “There's Sis!” + </p> + <p> + I glanced up and saw standing near the gateway a slim, bright girl of + about twelve in a fresh gingham dress. + </p> + <p> + “We're coming!” roared Ben, exultantly. + </p> + <p> + While we were hitching up the horse, the man said to me: + </p> + <p> + “You'll come down with us and have some supper.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed I will,” I replied, trying not to make my response too eager. + </p> + <p> + “Did mother make gingerbread to-day?” I heard the boy whisper audibly. + </p> + <p> + “Sh-h—” replied the girl, “who is that man?” + </p> + <p> + “<i>I</i> don't know” with a great accent of mystery—“and dad don't + know. Did mother make gingerbread?” + </p> + <p> + “Sh-h—he'll hear you.” + </p> + <p> + “Gee! but he can plant potatoes. He dropped down on us out of a clear + sky.” + </p> + <p> + “What is he?” she asked. “A tramp?” + </p> + <p> + “Nope, not a tramp. He works. But, Sis, did mother make gingerbread?” + </p> + <p> + So we all got into the light wagon and drove briskly out along the shady + country road. The evening was coming on, and the air was full of the scent + of blossoms. We turned finally into a lane and thus came promptly, for the + horse was as eager as we, to the capacious farmyard. A motherly woman came + out from the house, spoke to her son, and nodded pleasantly to me. There + was no especial introduction. I said merely, “My name is Grayson,” and I + was accepted without a word. + </p> + <p> + I waited to help the man, whose name I had now learned—it was + Stanley—with his horse and wagon, and then we came up to the house. + Near the back door there was a pump, with a bench and basin set just + within a little cleanly swept, open shed. Rolling back my collar and + baring my arms I washed myself in the cool water, dashing it over my head + until I gasped, and then stepping back, breathless and refreshed, I found + the slim girl, Mary, at my elbow with a clean soft towel. As I stood + wiping quietly I could smell the ambrosial odours from the kitchen. In all + my life I never enjoyed a moment more than that, I think. + </p> + <p> + “Come in now,” said the motherly Mrs. Stanley. + </p> + <p> + So we filed into the roomy kitchen, where an older girl, called Kate, was + flying about placing steaming dishes upon the table. There was also an + older son, who had been at the farm chores. It was altogether a fine, + vigorous, independent American family. So we all sat down and drew up our + chairs. Then we paused a moment, and the father, bowing his head, said in + a low voice: + </p> + <p> + “For all Thy good gifts, Lord, we thank Thee. Preserve us and keep us + through another night.” + </p> + <p> + I suppose it was a very ordinary farm meal, but it seems to me I never + tasted a better one. The huge piles of new baked bread, the sweet farm + butter, already delicious with the flavour of new grass, the bacon and + eggs, the potatoes, the rhubarb sauce, the great plates of new, hot + gingerbread and, at the last, the custard pie—a great wedge of it, + with fresh cheese. After the first ravenous appetite of hardworking men + was satisfied, there came to be a good deal of lively conversation. The + girls had some joke between them which Ben was trying in vain to fathom. + The older son told how much milk a certain Alderney cow had given, and Mr. + Stanley, quite changed now as he sat at his own table from the rather grim + farmer of the afternoon, revealed a capacity for a husky sort of fun, + joking Ben about his potato-planting and telling in a lively way of his + race with me. As for Mrs. Stanley, she sat smiling behind her tall coffee + pot, radiating good cheer and hospitality. They asked me no questions at + all, and I was so hungry and tired that I volunteered no information. + </p> + <p> + After supper we went out for half or three quarters of an hour to do some + final chores, and Mr. Stanley and I stopped in the cattle yard and looked + over the cows, and talked learnedly about the pigs, and I admired his + spring calves to his hearts content, for they really were a fine lot. When + we came in again the lamps had been lighted in the sitting-room and the + older daughter was at the telephone exchanging the news of the day with + some neighbour—and with great laughter and enjoyment. Occasionally + she would turn and repeat some bit of gossip to the family, and Mrs. + Stanley would claim: + </p> + <p> + “Do tell!” + </p> + <p> + “Can't we have a bit of music to-night?” inquired Mr. Stanley. + </p> + <p> + Instantly Ben and the slim girl, Mary, made a wild dive for the front room—the + parlour—and came out with a first-rate phonograph which they placed + on the table. + </p> + <p> + “Something lively now,” said Mr. Stanley. + </p> + <p> + So they put on a rollicking negro song called. “My Georgia Belle,” which, + besides the tuneful voices, introduced a steamboat whistle and a musical + clangour of bells. When it wound up with a bang, Mr. Stanley took his big + comfortable pipe out of his mouth and cried out: + </p> + <p> + “Fine, fine!” + </p> + <p> + We had further music of the same sort and with one record the older + daughter, Kate, broke into the song with a full, strong though + uncultivated voice—which pleased us all very much indeed. + </p> + <p> + Presently Mrs. Stanley, who was sitting under the lamp with a basket of + socks to mend, began to nod. + </p> + <p> + “Mother's giving the signal,” said the older son. + </p> + <p> + “No, no, I'm not a bit sleepy,” exclaimed Mrs. Stanley. + </p> + <p> + But with further joking and laughing the family began to move about. The + older daughter gave me a hand lamp and showed me the way upstairs to a + little room at the end of the house. + </p> + <p> + “I think,” she said with pleasant dignity, “you will find everything you + need.” + </p> + <p> + I cannot tell with what solid pleasure I rolled into bed or how soundly + and sweetly I slept. + </p> + <p> + This was the first day of my real adventures. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. I WHISTLE + </h2> + <p> + When I was a boy I learned after many discouragements to play on a tin + whistle. There was a wandering old fellow in our town who would sit for + hours on the shady side of a certain ancient hotel-barn, and with his + little whistle to his lips, and gently swaying his head to his tune and + tapping one foot in the gravel, he would produce the most wonderful and + beguiling melodies. His favourite selections were very lively; he played, + I remember, “Old Dan Tucker,” and “Money Musk,” and the tune of a + rollicking old song, now no doubt long forgotten, called “Wait for the + Wagon.” I can see him yet, with his jolly eyes half closed, his lips + puckered around the whistle, and his fingers curiously and stiffly poised + over the stops. I am sure I shall never forget the thrill which his music + gave to the heart of a certain barefoot boy. + </p> + <p> + At length, by means I have long since forgotten, I secured a tin whistle + exactly like Old Tom Madison's and began diligently to practise such tunes + as I knew. I am quite sure now that I must have made a nuisance of myself, + for it soon appeared to be the set purpose of every member of the family + to break up my efforts. Whenever my father saw me with the whistle to my + lips, he would instantly set me at some useful work (oh, he was an adept + in discovering useful work to do—for a boy!). And at the very sight + of my stern aunt I would instantly secrete my whistle in my blouse and fly + for the garret or cellar, like a cat caught in the cream. Such are the + early tribulations of musical genius! + </p> + <p> + At last I discovered a remote spot on a beam in the hay-barn where, + lighted by a ray of sunlight which came through a crack in the eaves and + pointed a dusty golden finger into that hay-scented interior, I practised + rapturously and to my heart's content upon my tin whistle. I learned + “Money Musk” until I could play it in Old Tom Madison's best style—even + to the last nod and final foot-tap. I turned a certain church hymn called + “Yield Not to Temptation” into something quite inspiriting, and I played + “Marching Through Georgia” until all the “happy hills of hay” were to the + fervid eye of a boy's imagination full of tramping soldiers. Oh, I shall + never forget the joys of those hours in the hay-barn, nor the music of + that secret tin whistle! I can hear yet the crooning of the pigeons in the + eaves, and the slatey sound of their wings as they flew across the open + spaces in the great barn; I can smell yet the odour of the hay. + </p> + <p> + But with years, and the city, and the shame of youth, I put aside and + almost forgot the art of whistling. When I was preparing for the present + pilgrimage, however, it came to me with a sudden thrill of pleasure that + nothing in the wide world now prevented me from getting a whistle and + seeing whether I had forgotten my early cunning. At the very first + good-sized town I came to I was delighted to find at a little candy and + toy shop just the sort of whistle I wanted, at the extravagant price of + ten cents. I bought it and put it in the bottom of my knapsack. + </p> + <p> + “Am I not old enough now,” I said to myself, “to be as youthful as I + choose?” + </p> + <p> + Isn't it the strangest thing in the world how long it takes us to learn to + accept the joys of simple pleasures?—and some of us never learn at + all. “Boo!” says the neighbourhood, and we are instantly frightened into + doing a thousand unnecessary and unpleasant things, or prevented from + doing a thousand beguiling things. + </p> + <p> + For the first few days I was on the road I thought often with pleasure of + the whistle lying there in my bag, but it was not until after I left the + Stanleys' that I felt exactly in the mood to try it. + </p> + <p> + The fact is, my adventures on the Stanley farm had left me in a very + cheerful frame of mind. They convinced me that some of the great things I + had expected of my pilgrimage were realizable possibilities. Why, I had + walked right into the heart of as fine a family as I have seen these many + days. + </p> + <p> + I remained with them the entire day following the potato-planting. We were + out at five o'clock in the morning, and after helping with the chores, and + eating a prodigious breakfast, we went again to the potato-field, and part + of the time I helped plant a few remaining rows, and part of the time I + drove a team attached to a wing-plow to cover the planting of the previous + day. + </p> + <p> + In the afternoon a slashing spring rain set in, and Mr. Stanley, who was a + forehanded worker, found a job for all of us in the barn. Ben, the younger + son, and I sharpened mower-blades and a scythe or so, Ben turning the + grindstone and I holding the blades and telling him stories into the + bargain. Mr. Stanley and his stout older son overhauled the work-harness + and tinkered the corn-planter. The doors at both ends of the barn stood + wide open, and through one of them, framed like a picture, we could see + the scudding floods descend upon the meadows, and through the other, + across a fine stretch of open country, we could see all the roads + glistening and the treetops moving under the rain. + </p> + <p> + “Fine, fine!” exclaimed Mr. Stanley, looking out from time to time, “we + got in our potatoes just in the nick of time.” + </p> + <p> + After supper that evening I told them of my plan to leave them on the + following morning. + </p> + <p> + “Don't do that,” said Mrs. Stanley heartily; “stay on with us.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Mr. Stanley, “we're shorthanded, and I'd be glad to have a man + like you all summer. There ain't any one around here will pay a good man + more'n I will, nor treat 'im better.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm sure of it, Mr. Stanley,” I said, “but I can't stay with you.” + </p> + <p> + At that the tide of curiosity which I had seen rising ever since I came + began to break through. Oh, I know how difficult it is to let the wanderer + get by without taking toll of him! There are not so many people here in + the country that we can afford to neglect them. And as I had nothing in + the world to conceal, and, indeed, loved nothing better than the give and + take of getting acquainted, we were soon at it in good earnest. + </p> + <p> + But it was not enough to tell them that my name was David Grayson and + where my farm was located, and how many acres there were, and how much + stock I had, and what I raised. The great particular “Why?”—as I + knew it would be—concerned my strange presence on the road at this + season of the year and the reason why I should turn in by chance, as I had + done, to help at their planting. If a man is stationary, it seems quite + impossible for him to imagine why any one should care to wander; and as + for the wanderer it is inconceivable to him how any one can remain + permanently at home. + </p> + <p> + We were all sitting comfortably around the table in the living-room. The + lamps were lighted, and Mr. Stanley, in slippers, was smoking his pipe and + Mrs. Stanley was darning socks over a mending-gourd, and the two young + Stanleys were whispering and giggling about some matter of supreme + consequence to youth. The windows were open, and we could smell the sweet + scent of the lilacs from the yard and hear the drumming of the rain as it + fell on the roof of the porch. + </p> + <p> + “It's easy to explain,” I said. “The fact is, it got to the point on my + farm that I wasn't quite sure whether I owned it or it owned me. And I + made up my mind I'd get away for a while from my own horses and cattle and + see what the world was like. I wanted to see how people lived up here, and + what they are thinking about, and how they do their farming.” + </p> + <p> + As I talked of my plans and of the duty one had, as I saw it, to be a good + broad man as well as a good farmer, I grew more and more interested and + enthusiastic. Mr. Stanley took his pipe slowly from his mouth, held it + poised until it finally went out, and sat looking at me with a rapt + expression. I never had a better audience. Finally, Mr. Stanley said very + earnestly: + </p> + <p> + “And you have felt that way, too?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, father!” exclaimed Mrs. Stanley, in astonishment. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Stanley hastily put his pipe back into his mouth and confusedly + searched in his pockets for a match; but I knew I had struck down deep + into a common experience. Here was this brisk and prosperous farmer having + his dreams too—dreams that even his wife did not know! + </p> + <p> + So I continued my talk with even greater fervour. I don't think that the + boy Ben understood all that I said, for I was dealing with experiences + common mostly to older men, but he somehow seemed to get the spirit of it, + for quite unconsciously he began to hitch his chair toward me, then he + laid his hand on my chair-arm and finally and quite simply he rested his + arm against mine and looked at me with all his eyes. I keep learning that + there is nothing which reaches men's hearts like talking straight out the + convictions and emotions of your innermost soul. Those who hear you may + not agree with you, or they may not understand you fully, but something + incalculable, something vital, passes. And as for a boy or girl it is one + of the sorriest of mistakes to talk down to them; almost always your lad + of fifteen thinks more simply, more fundamentally, than you do; and what + he accepts as good coin is not facts or precepts, but feelings and + convictions—LIFE. And why shouldn't we speak out? + </p> + <p> + “I long ago decided,” I said, “to try to be fully what I am and not to be + anything or anybody else.” + </p> + <p> + “That's right, that's right,” exclaimed Mr. Stanley, nodding his head + vigorously. + </p> + <p> + “It's about the oldest wisdom there is,” I said, and with that I thought + of the volume I carried in my pocket, and straightway I pulled it out and + after a moment's search found the passage I wanted. + </p> + <p> + “Listen,” I said, “to what this old Roman philosopher said”—and I + held the book up to the lamp and read aloud: + </p> + <p> + “'You can be invincible if you enter into no contest in which it is not in + your power to conquer. Take care, then, when you observe a man honoured + before others or possessed of great power, or highly esteemed for any + reason, not to suppose him happy and be not carried away by the + appearance. For if the nature of the good is in our power, neither envy + nor jealousy will have a place in us. But you yourself will not wish to be + a general or a senator or consul, but a free man, and there is only one + way to do this, to care not for the things which are not in our power.'” + </p> + <p> + “That,” said Mr. Stanley, “is exactly what I've always said, but I didn't + know it was in any book. I always said I didn't want to be a senator or a + legislator, or any other sort of office-holder. It's good enough for me + right here on this farm.” + </p> + <p> + At that moment I glanced down into Ben's shining eyes. + </p> + <p> + “But I want to be a senator or—something—when I grow up,” he + said eagerly. + </p> + <p> + At this the older brother, who was sitting not far off, broke into a + laugh, and the boy, who for a moment had been drawn out of his reserve, + shrank back again and coloured to the hair. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Ben,” said I, putting my hand on his knee, “don't you let anything + stop you. I'll back you up; I'll vote for you.” + </p> + <p> + After breakfast the next morning Mr. Stanley drew me aside and said: + </p> + <p> + “Now I want to pay you for your help yesterday and the day before.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” I said. “I've had more than value received. You've taken me in like + a friend and brother. I've enjoyed it.” + </p> + <p> + So Mrs. Stanley half filled my knapsack with the finest luncheon I've seen + in many a day, and thus, with as pleasant a farewell as if I'd been a near + relative, I set off up the country road. I was a little distressed in + parting to see nothing of the boy Ben, for I had formed a genuine liking + for him, but upon reaching a clump of trees which hid the house from the + road I saw him standing in the moist grass of a fence corner. + </p> + <p> + “I want to say good-bye,” he said in the gruff voice of embarrassment. + </p> + <p> + “Ben,” I said, “I missed you, and I'd have hated to go off without seeing + you again. Walk a bit with me.” + </p> + <p> + So we walked side by side, talking quietly and when at last I shook his + hand I said: + </p> + <p> + “Ben, don't you ever be afraid of acting up to the very best thoughts you + have in your heart.” + </p> + <p> + He said nothing for a moment, and then: “Gee! I'm sorry you're goin' + away!” + </p> + <p> + “Gee!” I responded, “I'm sorry, too!” + </p> + <p> + With that we both laughed, but when I reached the top of the hill, and + looked back, I saw him still standing there bare-footed in the road + looking after me. I waved my hand and he waved his: and I saw him no more. + </p> + <p> + No country, after all, produces any better crop than its inhabitants. And + as I travelled onward I liked to think of these brave, temperate, + industrious, God-friendly American people. I have no fear of the country + while so many of them are still to be found upon the farms and in the + towns of this land. + </p> + <p> + So I tramped onward full of cheerfulness. The rain had ceased, but all the + world was moist and very green and still. I walked for more than two hours + with the greatest pleasure. About ten o'clock in the morning I stopped + near a brook to drink and rest, for I was warm and tired. And it was then + that I bethought me of the little tin pipe in my knapsack, and straightway + I got it out, and, sitting down at the foot of a tree near the brook, I + put it to my lips and felt for the stops with unaccustomed fingers. At + first I made the saddest sort of work of it, and was not a little + disappointed, indeed, with the sound of the whistle itself. It was nothing + to my memory of it! It seemed thin and tinny. + </p> + <p> + However, I persevered at it, and soon produced a recognizable imitation of + Tom Madison's “Old Dan Tucker.” My success quite pleased me, and I became + so absorbed that I quite lost account of the time and place. There was no + one to hear me save a bluejay which for an hour or more kept me company. + He sat on a twig just across the brook, cocking his head at me, and + saucily wagging his tail. Occasionally he would dart off among the trees + crying shrilly; but his curiosity would always get the better of him and + back he would come again to try to solve the mystery of this rival + whistling, which I'm sure was as shrill and as harsh as his own. + </p> + <p> + Presently, quite to my astonishment, I saw a man standing near the + brookside not a dozen paces away from me. How long he had been there I + don't know, for I had heard nothing of his coming. Beyond him in the town + road I could see the head of his horse and the top of his buggy. I said + not a word, but continued with my practising. Why shouldn't I? But it gave + me quite a thrill for the moment; and at once I began to think of the + possibilities of the situation. What a thing it was have so many + unexpected and interesting situations developing! So I nodded my head and + tapped my foot, and blew into my whistle all the more energetically. I + knew my visitor could not possibly keep away. And he could not; presently + he came nearer and said: + </p> + <p> + “What are you doing, neighbour?” + </p> + <p> + I continued a moment with my playing, but commanded him with my eye. + </p> + <p> + Oh, I assure you I assumed all the airs of a virtuoso. When I had finished + my tune I removed my whistle deliberately and wiped my lips. + </p> + <p> + “Why, enjoying myself,” I replied with greatest good humour. “What are you + doing?” + </p> + <p> + “Why,” he said, “watching you enjoy yourself. I heard you playing as I + passed in the road, and couldn't imagine what it could be.” + </p> + <p> + I told him I thought it might still be difficult, having heard me near at + hand, to imagine what it could be—and thus, tossing the ball of + good-humoured repartee back and forth, we walked down to the road + together. He had a quiet old horse and a curious top buggy with the + unmistakable box of an agent or peddler built on behind. + </p> + <p> + “My name,” he said, “is Canfield. I fight dust.” + </p> + <p> + “And mine,” I said, “is Grayson. I whistle.” + </p> + <p> + I discovered that he was an agent for brushes, and he opened his box and + showed me the greatest assortment of big and little brushes: bristle + brushes, broom brushes, yarn brushes, wire brushes, brushes for man and + brushes for beast, brushes of every conceivable size and shape that ever I + saw in all my life. He had out one of his especial pets—he called it + his “leader”—and feeling it familiarly in his hand he instinctively + began the jargon of well-handled and voice-worn phrases which went with + that particular brush. It was just as though some one had touched a button + and had started him going. It was amazing to me that any one in the world + should be so much interested in mere brushes—until he actually began + to make me feel that brushes were as interesting as anything else! + </p> + <p> + What a strange, little, dried-up old fellow he was, with his balls of + muttonchop sidewhiskers, his thick eyebrows, and his lively blue eyes!—a + man evidently not readily turned aside by rebuffs. He had already shown + that his wit as a talker had been sharpened by long and varied contact + with a world of reluctant purchasers. I was really curious to know more of + him, so I said finally: + </p> + <p> + “See here, Mr. Canfield, it's just noon. Why not sit down here with me and + have a bit of luncheon?” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” he responded with alacrity. “As the fellow said, why not?” + </p> + <p> + He unhitched his horse, gave him a drink from the brook, and then tethered + him where he could nip the roadside grass. I opened my bag and explored + the wonders of Mrs. Stanley's luncheon. I cannot describe the absolutely + carefree feeling I had. Always at home, when I would have liked to stop at + the roadside with a stranger, I felt the nudge of a conscience troubled + with cows and corn, but here I could stop where I liked, or go on when I + liked, and talk with whom I pleased, as long as I pleased. + </p> + <p> + So we sat there, the brush-peddler and I, under the trees, and ate Mrs. + Stanley's fine luncheon, drank the clear water from the brook, and talked + great talk. Compared with Mr. Canfield I was a babe at wandering—and + equally at talking. Was there any business he had not been in, or any + place in the country he had not visited? He had sold everything from + fly-paper to threshing-machines, he had picked up a large working + knowledge of the weaknesses of human nature, and had arrived at the age of + sixty-six with just enough available cash to pay the manufacturer for a + new supply of brushes. In strict confidence, I drew certain conclusions + from the colour of his nose! He had once had a family, but dropped them + somewhere along the road. Most of our brisk neighbours would have put him + down as a failure—an old man, and nothing laid by! But I wonder—I + wonder. One thing I am coming to learn in this world, and that is to let + people haggle along with their lives as I haggle along with mine. + </p> + <p> + We both made tremendous inroads on the luncheon, and I presume we might + have sat there talking all the afternoon if I had not suddenly bethought + myself with a not unpleasant thrill that my resting-place for the night + was still gloriously undecided. + </p> + <p> + “Friend,” I said, “I've got to be up and going. I haven't so much as a + penny in my pocket, and I've got to find a place to sleep.” + </p> + <p> + The effect of this remark upon Mr. Canfield was magical. He threw up both + his hands and cried out: + </p> + <p> + “You're that way, are you?”—as though for the first time he really + understood. We were at last on common ground. + </p> + <p> + “Partner,” said he, “you needn't tell nothin' about it. I've been right + there myself.” + </p> + <p> + At once he began to bustle about with great enthusiasm. He was for taking + complete charge of me, and I think, if I had permitted it, would instantly + have made a brush-agent of me. At least he would have carried me along + with him in his buggy; but when he suggested it I felt very much, I think, + as some old monk must have who had taken a vow to do some particular thing + in some particular way. With great difficulty I convinced him finally that + my way was different from his—though he was regally impartial as to + what road he took next—and, finally, with some reluctance, he + started to climb into his buggy. + </p> + <p> + A thought, however, struck him suddenly, and he stepped down again, ran + around to the box at the back of his buggy, opened it with a mysterious + and smiling look at me, and took out a small broom-brush with which he + instantly began brushing off my coat and trousers—in the liveliest + and most exuberant way. When he had finished this occupation, he quickly + handed the brush to me. + </p> + <p> + “A token of esteem,” he said, “from a fellow traveller.” + </p> + <p> + I tried in vain to thank him, but he held up his hand, scrambled quickly + into his buggy, and was for driving off instantly, but paused and beckoned + me toward him. When I approached the buggy, he took hold of one the lapels + of my coat, bent over, and said with the utmost seriousness: + </p> + <p> + “No man ought to take the road without a brush. A good broom-brush is the + world's greatest civilizer. Are you looking seedy or dusty?—why, + this here brush will instantly make you a respectable citizen. Take my + word for it, friend, never go into any strange house without stoppin' and + brushin' off. It's money in your purse! You can get along without dinner + sometimes, or even without a shirt, but without a brush—never! + There's nothin' in the world so necessary to rich AN' poor, old AN' young + as a good brush!” + </p> + <p> + And with a final burst of enthusiasm the brush-peddler drove off up the + hill. I stood watching him and when he turned around I waved the brush + high over my head in token of a grateful farewell. + </p> + <p> + It was a good, serviceable, friendly brush. I carried it throughout my + wanderings; and as I sit here writing in my study, at this moment, I can + see it hanging on a hook at the side of my fireplace. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. THE HOUSE BY THE SIDE OF THE ROAD + </h2> + <p> + “Everyone,” remarks Tristram Shandy, “will speak of the fair as his own + market has gone in it.” + </p> + <p> + It came near being a sorry fair for me on the afternoon following my + parting with the amiable brush-peddler. The plain fact is, my success at + the Stanleys', and the easy manner in which I had fallen in with Mr. + Canfield, gave me so much confidence in myself as a sort of Master of the + Road that I proceeded with altogether too much assurance. + </p> + <p> + I am firmly convinced that the prime quality to be cultivated by the + pilgrim is humility of spirit; he must be willing to accept Adventure in + whatever garb she chooses to present herself. He must be able to see the + shining form of the unusual through the dull garments of the normal. + </p> + <p> + The fact is, I walked that afternoon with my head in air and passed many a + pleasant farmstead where men were working in the fields, and many an open + doorway, and a mill or two, and a town—always looking for some Great + Adventure. + </p> + <p> + Somewhere upon this road, I thought to myself, I shall fall in with a + Great Person, or become a part of a Great Incident. I recalled with keen + pleasure the experience of that young Spanish student of Carlyle writes in + one of his volumes, who, riding out from Madrid one day, came unexpectedly + upon the greatest man in the world. This great man, of whom Carlyle + observes (I have looked up the passage since I came home), “a kindlier, + meeker, braver heart has seldom looked upon the sky in this world,” had + ridden out from the city for the last time in his life “to take one other + look at the azure firmament and green mosaic pavements and the strange + carpentry and arras work of this noble palace of a world.” + </p> + <p> + As the old story has it, the young student “came pricking on hastily, + complaining that they went at such a pace as gave him little chance of + keeping up with them. One of the party made answer that the blame lay with + the horse of Don Miguel de Cervantes, whose trot was of the speediest. He + had hardly pronounced the name when the student dismounted and, touching + the hem of Cervantes' left sleeve, said, 'Yes, yes, it is indeed the + maimed perfection, the all-famous, the delightful writer, the joy and + darling of the Muses! You are that brave Miguel.'” + </p> + <p> + It may seem absurd to some in this cool and calculating twentieth century + that any one should indulge in such vain imaginings as I have described—and + yet, why not? All things are as we see them. I once heard a man—a + modern man, living to-day—tell with a hush in his voice, and a + peculiar light in his eye, how, walking in the outskirts of an unromantic + town in New Jersey, he came suddenly upon a vigorous, bearded, rather + rough-looking man swinging his stick as he walked, and stopping often at + the roadside and often looking up at the sky. I shall never forget the + curious thrill in his voice as he said: + </p> + <p> + “And THAT was Walt Whitman.” + </p> + <p> + And thus quite absurdly intoxicated by the possibilities of the road, I + let the big full afternoon slip by—I let slip the rich possibilities + of half a hundred farms and scores of travelling people—and as + evening began to fall I came to a stretch of wilder country with wooded + hills and a dashing stream by the roadside. It was a fine and beautiful + country—to look at—but the farms, and with them the chances of + dinner, and a friendly place to sleep, grew momentarily scarcer. Upon the + hills here and there, indeed, were to be seen the pretentious summer homes + of rich dwellers from the cities, but I looked upon them with no great + hopefulness. + </p> + <p> + “Of all places in the world,” I said to myself, “surely none could be more + unfriendly to a man like me.” + </p> + <p> + But I amused myself with conjectures as to what might happen (until the + adventure seemed almost worth trying) if a dusty man with a bag on his + back should appear at the door of one of those well-groomed + establishments. It came to me, indeed, with a sudden deep sense of + understanding, that I should probably find there, as everywhere else, just + men and women. And with that I fell into a sort of Socratic dialogue with + myself: + </p> + <p> + ME: Having decided that the people in these houses are, after all, merely + men and women, what is the best way of reaching them? + </p> + <p> + MYSELF: Undoubtedly by giving them something they want and have not. + </p> + <p> + ME: But these are rich people from the city; what can they want that they + have not? + </p> + <p> + MYSELF: Believe me, of all people in the world those who want the most are + those who have the most. These people are also consumed with desires. + </p> + <p> + ME: And what, pray, do you suppose they desire? + </p> + <p> + MYSELF: They want what they have not got; they want the unattainable: they + want chiefly the rarest and most precious of all things—a little + mystery in their lives. + </p> + <p> + “That's it!” I said aloud; “that's it! Mystery—the things of the + spirit, the things above ordinary living—is not that the essential + thing for which the world is sighing, and groaning, and longing—consciously, + or unconsciously?” + </p> + <p> + I have always believed that men in their innermost souls desire the + highest, bravest, finest things they can hear, or see, or feel in all the + world. Tell a man how he can increase his income and he will be grateful + to you and soon forget you; but show him the highest, most mysterious + things in his own soul and give him the word which will convince him that + the finest things are really attainable, and he will love and follow you + always. + </p> + <p> + I now began to look with much excitement to a visit at one of the houses + on the hill, but to my disappointment I found the next two that I + approached still closed up, for the spring was not yet far enough advanced + to attract the owners to the country. I walked rapidly onward through the + gathering twilight, but with increasing uneasiness as to the prospects for + the night, and thus came suddenly upon the scene of an odd adventure. + </p> + <p> + From some distance I had seen a veritable palace set high among the trees + and overlooking a wonderful green valley—and, drawing nearer, I saw + evidences of well-kept roadways and a visible effort to make invisible the + attempt to preserve the wild beauty of the place. I saw, or thought I saw, + people on the wide veranda, and I was sure I heard the snort of a climbing + motor-car, but I had scarcely decided to make my way up to the house when + I came, at the turning of the country road, upon a bit of open land laid + out neatly as a garden, near the edge of which, nestling among the trees, + stood a small cottage. It seemed somehow to belong to the great estate + above it, and I concluded, at the first glance, that it was the home of + some caretaker or gardener. + </p> + <p> + It was a charming place to see, and especially the plantation of trees and + shrubs. My eye fell instantly upon a fine magnolia—rare in this + country—which had not yet cast all its blossoms, and I paused for a + moment to look at it more closely. I myself have tried to raise magnolias + near my house, and I know how difficult it is. + </p> + <p> + As I approached nearer to the cottage, I could see a man and woman sitting + on the porch in the twilight and swaying back and forth in rocking-chairs. + I fancied—it may have been only a fancy—that when I first saw + them their hands were clasped as they rocked side by side. + </p> + <p> + It was indeed a charming little cottage. Crimson ramblers, giving promise + of the bloom that was yet to come, climbed over one end of the porch, and + there were fine dark-leaved lilac-bushes near the doorway: oh, a pleasant, + friendly, quiet place! + </p> + <p> + I opened the front gate and walked straight in, as though I had at last + reached my destination. I cannot give any idea of the lift of the heart + with which I entered upon this new adventure. Without the premeditation + and not knowing what I should say or do, I realized that everything + depended upon a few sentences spoken within the next minute or two. + Believe me, this experience to a man who does not know where his next meal + is coming from, nor where he is to spend the night, is well worth having. + It is a marvellous sharpener of the facts. + </p> + <p> + I knew, of course, just how these people of the cottage would ordinarily + regard an intruder whose bag and clothing must infallibly class him as a + follower of the road. And so many followers of the road are—well— + </p> + <p> + As I came nearer, the man and woman stopped rocking, but said nothing. An + old dog that had been sleeping on the top step rose slowly and stood + there. + </p> + <p> + “As I passed your garden,” I said, grasping desperately for a way of + approach, “I saw your beautiful specimen of the magnolia tree—the + one still in blossom. I myself have tried to grow magnolias—but with + small success—and I'm making bold to inquire what variety you are so + successful with.” + </p> + <p> + It was a shot in the air—but I knew from what I had seen that they + must be enthusiastic gardeners. The man glanced around at the magnolia + with evident pride, and was about to answer when the woman rose and with a + pleasant, quiet cordiality said: + </p> + <p> + “Won't you step up and have a chair?” + </p> + <p> + I swung my bag from my shoulder and took the proffered seat. As I did so I + saw, on the table just behind me a number magazines and books—books + of unusual sizes and shapes, indicating that they were not mere summer + novels. + </p> + <p> + “They like books!” I said to myself, with a sudden rise of spirits. + </p> + <p> + “I have tried magnolias, too,” said the man, “but this is the only one + that has been really successful. It is a Chinese white magnolia.” + </p> + <p> + “The one Downing describes?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + This was also a random shot, but I conjectured that if they loved both + books gardens they would know Downing—Bible of the gardener. And if + they did, we belonged to the same church. + </p> + <p> + “The very same,” exclaimed the woman; “it was Downing's enthusiasm for the + Chinese magnolia which led us first to try it.” + </p> + <p> + With that, like true disciples, we fell into great talk of Downing, at + first all in praise of him, and later—for may not the faithful be + permitted latitude in their comments so long as it is all within the + cloister?—we indulged in a bit of higher criticism. + </p> + <p> + “It won't do,” said the man, “to follow too slavishly every detail of + practice as recommended by Downing. We have learned a good many things + since the forties.” + </p> + <p> + “The fact is,” I said, “no literal-minded man should be trusted with + Downing.” + </p> + <p> + “Any more than with the Holy Scriptures,” exclaimed the woman. + </p> + <p> + “Exactly!” I responded with the greatest enthusiasm; “exactly! We go to + him for inspiration, for fundamental teachings, for the great literature + and poetry of the art. Do you remember,” I asked, “that passage in which + Downing quotes from some old Chinaman upon the true secret of the + pleasures of a garden—?” + </p> + <p> + “Do we?” exclaimed the man, jumping up instantly; “do we? Just let me get + the book—” + </p> + <p> + With that he went into the house and came back immediately bringing a lamp + in one hand—for it had grown pretty dark—and a familiar, + portly, blue-bound book in the other. While he was gone the woman said: + </p> + <p> + “You have touched Mr. Vedder in his weakest spot.” + </p> + <p> + “I know of no combination in this world,” said I, “so certain to produce a + happy heart as good books and a farm or garden.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Vedder, having returned, slipped on his spectacles, sat forward on the + edge of his rocking-chair, and opened the book with pious hands. + </p> + <p> + “I'll find it,” he said. “I can put my finger right on it.” + </p> + <p> + “You'll find it,” said Mrs. Vedder, “in the chapter on 'Hedges.'” + </p> + <p> + “You are wrong, my dear,” he responded, “it is in 'Mistakes of Citizens in + Country Life.'” + </p> + <p> + He turned the leaves eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said, “here it is in 'Rural Taste.' Let me read you the passage, + Mr.—” + </p> + <p> + “Grayson.” + </p> + <p> + “—Mr. Grayson. The Chinaman's name was Lieu-tscheu. 'What is it,' + asks this old Chinaman, 'that we seek in the pleasure of a garden? It has + always been agreed that these plantations should make men amends for + living at a distance from what would be their more congenial and agreeable + dwelling-place—in the midst of nature, free and unrestrained.'” + </p> + <p> + “That's it,” I exclaimed, “and the old Chinaman was right! A garden + excuses civilization.” + </p> + <p> + “It's what brought us here,” said Mrs. Vedder. + </p> + <p> + With that we fell into the liveliest discussion of gardening and farming + and country life in all their phases, resolving that while there were bugs + and blights, and droughts and floods, yet upon the whole there was no life + so completely satisfying as life in which one may watch daily the + unfolding of natural life. + </p> + <p> + A hundred things we talked about freely that had often risen dimly in my + own mind almost to the point—but not quite—of spilling over + into articulate form. The marvellous thing about good conversation is that + it brings to birth so many half-realized thoughts of our own—besides + sowing the seed of innumerable other thought-plants. How they enjoyed + their garden, those two, and not only the garden itself, but all the lore + and poetry of gardening! + </p> + <p> + We had been talking thus an hour or more when, quite unexpectedly, I had + what was certainly one of the most amusing adventures of my whole life. I + can scarcely think of it now without a thrill of pleasure. I have had pay + for my work in many but never such a reward as this. + </p> + <p> + “By the way,” said Mr. Vedder, “I have recently come across a book which + is full of the spirit of the garden as we have long known it, although the + author is not treating directly of gardens, but of farming and of human + nature.” + </p> + <p> + “It is really all one subject,” I interrupted. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” said Mr. Vedder, “but many gardeners are nothing but + gardeners. Well, the book to which I refer is called 'Adventures in + Contentment,' and is by—Why, a man of your own name!” + </p> + <p> + With that Mr. Vedder reached for a book—a familiar-looking book—on + the table, but Mrs. Vedder looked at me. I give you my word, my heart + turned entirely over, and in a most remarkable way righted itself again; + and I saw Roman candles and Fourth of July rockets in front of my eyes. + Never in all my experience was I so completely bowled over. I felt like a + small boy who has been caught in the pantry with one hand in the jam-pot—and + plenty of jam on his nose. And like that small boy I enjoyed the jam, but + did not like being caught at it. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Vedder had no sooner got the book in his hand than I saw Mrs. Vedder + rising as though she had seen a spectre, and pointing dramatically at me, + she exclaimed: + </p> + <p> + “You are David Grayson!” + </p> + <p> + I can say truthfully now that I know how the prisoner at the bar must feel + when the judge, leaning over his desk, looks at him sternly and says: + </p> + <p> + “I declare you guilty of the offence as charged, and sentence you—” + and so on, and so on. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Vedder stiffened up, and I can see him yet looking at me through his + glasses. I must have looked as foolishly guilty as any man ever looked, + for Mr. Vedder said promptly: + </p> + <p> + “Let me take you by the hand, sir. We know you, and have known you for a + long time.” + </p> + <p> + I shall not attempt to relate the conversation which followed, nor tell of + the keen joy I had in it—after the first cold plunge. We found that + we had a thousand common interests and enthusiasms. I had to tell them of + my farm, and why I had left it temporarily, and of the experiences on the + road. No sooner had I related what had befallen me at the Stanleys' than + Mrs. Vedder disappeared into the house and came out again presently with a + tray loaded with cold meat, bread, a pitcher of fine milk, and other good + things. + </p> + <p> + “I shall not offer any excuses,” said I, “I'm hungry,” and with that I + laid in, Mr. Vedder helping with the milk, and all three of us talking as + fast as ever we could. + </p> + <p> + It was nearly midnight when at last Mr. Vedder led the way to the + immaculate little bedroom where I spent the night. + </p> + <p> + The next morning I awoke early, and quietly dressing, slipped down to the + garden and walked about among the trees and the shrubs and the + flower-beds. The sun was just coming up over the hill, the air was full of + the fresh odours of morning, and the orioles and cat-birds were singing. + </p> + <p> + In the back of the garden I found a charming rustic arbour with seats + around a little table. And here I sat down to listen to the morning + concert, and I saw, cut or carved upon the table, this verse, which so + pleased me that I copied it in my book: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + A garden is a lovesome thing, God wot! + Rose plot, + Fringed pool, + Ferned grot— + The veriest school of peace; and yet + the fool + Contends that God is not— + Not God! in gardens? when the even + is cool? + Nay, but I have a sign, + 'Tis very sure God walks in mine. +</pre> + <p> + I looked about after copying this verse, and said aloud: + </p> + <p> + “I like this garden: I like these Vedders.” + </p> + <p> + And with that I had a moment of wild enthusiasm. + </p> + <p> + “I will come,” I said, “and buy a little garden next them, and bring + Harriet, and we will live here always. What's a farm compared with a + friend?” + </p> + <p> + But with that I thought of the Scotch preacher, and of Horace, and Mr. and + Mrs. Starkweather, and I knew I could never leave the friends at home. + </p> + <p> + “It's astonishing how many fine people there are in this world,” I said + aloud; “one can't escape them!” + </p> + <p> + “Good morning, David Grayson,” I heard some one saying, and glancing up I + saw Mrs. Vedder at the doorway. “Are you hungry?” + </p> + <p> + “I am always hungry,” I said. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Vedder came out and linking his arm in mine and pointing out various + spireas and Japanese barberries, of which he was very proud, we walked + into the house together. + </p> + <p> + I did not think of it especially at time—Harriet says I never see + anything really worth while, by which she means dishes, dresses, doilies, + and such like but as I remembered afterward the table that Mrs. Vedder set + was wonderfully dainty—dainty not merely with flowers (with which it + was loaded), but with the quality of the china and silver. It was plainly + the table of no ordinary gardener or caretaker—but this conclusion + did not come to me until afterward, for as I remember it, we were in a + deep discussion of fertilizers. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Vedder cooked and served breakfast herself, and did it with a skill + almost equal to Harriet's—so skillfully that the talk went on and we + never once heard the machinery of service. + </p> + <p> + After breakfast we all went out into the garden, Mrs. Vedder in an old + straw hat and a big apron, and Mr. Vedder in a pair of old brown overalls. + Two men had appeared from somewhere, and were digging in the vegetable + garden. After giving them certain directions Mr. Vedder and I both found + five-tined forks and went into the rose garden and began turning over the + rich soil, while Mrs. Vedder, with pruning-shears, kept near us, cutting + out the dead wood. + </p> + <p> + It was one of the charming forenoons of my life. This pleasant work, + spiced with the most interesting conversation and interrupted by a hundred + little excursions into other parts of the garden, to see this or that + wonder of vegetation, brought us to dinner-time before we fairly knew it. + </p> + <p> + About the middle of the afternoon I made the next discovery. I heard first + the choking cough of a big motor-car in the country road, and a moment + later it stopped at our gate. I thought I saw the Vedders exchanging + significant glances. A number of merry young people tumbled out, and an + especially pretty girl of about twenty came running through the garden. + </p> + <p> + “Mother,” she exclaimed, “you MUST come with us!” + </p> + <p> + “I can't, I can't,” said Mrs. Vedder, “the roses MUST be pruned—and + see! The azaleas are coming into bloom.” + </p> + <p> + With that she presented me to her daughter. + </p> + <p> + And, then, shortly, for it could no longer be concealed, I learned that + Mr. and Mrs. Vedder were not the caretakers but the owners of the estate + and of the great house I had seen on the hill. That evening, with an air + almost of apology, they explained to me how it all came about. + </p> + <p> + “We first came out here,” said Mrs. Vedder, “nearly twenty years ago, and + built the big house on the hill. But the more we came to know of country + life the more we wanted to get down into it. We found it impossible up + there—so many unnecessary things to see to and care for—and we + couldn't—we didn't see—” + </p> + <p> + “The fact is,” Mr. Vedder put in, “we were losing touch with each other.” + </p> + <p> + “There is nothing like a big house,” said Mrs. Vedder, “to separate a man + and his wife.” + </p> + <p> + “So we came down here,” said Mr. Vedder, “built this little cottage, and + developed this garden mostly with our own hands. We would have sold the + big house long ago if it hadn't been for our friends. They like it.” + </p> + <p> + “I have never heard a more truly romantic story,” said I. + </p> + <p> + And it WAS romantic: these fine people escaping from too many possessions, + too much property, to the peace and quietude of a garden where they could + be lovers again. + </p> + <p> + “It seems, sometimes,” said Mrs. Vedder, “that I never really believed in + God until we came down here—” + </p> + <p> + “I saw the verse on the table in the arbour,” said I. + </p> + <p> + “And it is true,” said Mr. Vedder. “We got a long, long way from God for + many years: here we seem to get back to Him.” + </p> + <p> + I had fully intended to take the road again that afternoon, but how could + any one leave such people as those? We talked again late that night, but + the next morning, at the leisurely Sunday breakfast, I set my hour of + departure with all the firmness I could command. I left them, indeed, + before ten o'clock that forenoon. I shall never forget the parting. They + walked with me to the top of the hill, and there we stopped and looked + back. We could see the cottage half hidden among the trees, and the little + opening that the precious garden made. For a time we stood there quite + silent. + </p> + <p> + “Do you remember,” I said presently, “that character in Homer who was a + friend of men and lived in a house by the side of the road? I shall always + think of you as friends of men—you took in a dusty traveller. And I + shall never forget your house by the side of the road.” + </p> + <p> + “The House by the Side of the Road—you have christened it anew, + David Grayson,” exclaimed Mrs. Vedder. + </p> + <p> + And so we parted like old friends, and I left them to return to their + garden, where “'tis very sure God walks.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. I AM THE SPECTATOR OF A MIGHTY BATTLE, IN WHICH CHRISTIAN + MEETS APPOLLYON + </h2> + <p> + It is one of the prime joys of the long road that no two days are ever + remotely alike—no two hours even; and sometimes a day that begins + calmly will end with the most stirring events. + </p> + <p> + It was thus, indeed, with that perfect spring Sunday, when I left my + friends, the Vedders, and turned my face again to the open country. It + began as quietly as any Sabbath morning of my life, but what an end it + had! I would have travelled a thousand miles for the adventures which a + bounteous road that day spilled carelessly into my willing hands. + </p> + <p> + I can give no adequate reason why it should be so, but there are Sunday + mornings in the spring—at least in our country—which seem to + put on, like a Sabbath garment, an atmosphere of divine quietude. Warm, + soft, clear, but, above all, immeasurably serene. + </p> + <p> + Such was that Sunday morning; and I was no sooner well afoot than I + yielded to the ingratiating mood of the day. Usually I am an active + walker, loving the sense of quick motion and the stir it imparts to both + body and mind, but that morning I found myself loitering, looking widely + about me, and enjoying the lesser and quieter aspects of nature. It was a + fine wooded country in which I found myself, and I soon struck off the + beaten road and took to the forest and the fields. In places the ground + was almost covered with meadow-rue, like green shadows on the hillsides, + not yet in seed, but richly umbrageous. In the long green grass of the + meadows shone the yellow star-flowers, and the sweet-flags were blooming + along the marshy edges of the ponds. The violets had disappeared, but they + were succeeded by wild geraniums and rank-growing vetches. + </p> + <p> + I remember that I kept thinking from time to time, all the forenoon, as my + mind went back swiftly and warmly to the two fine friends from whom I had + so recently parted: + </p> + <p> + How the Vedders would enjoy this! Or, I must tell the Vedders that. And + two or three times I found myself in animated conversations with them in + which I generously supplied all three parts. It may be true for some + natures, as Leonardo said, that “if you are alone you belong wholly to + yourself; if you have a companion, you belong only half to yourself”; but + it is certainly not so with me. With me friendship never divides: it + multiplies. A friend always makes me more than I am, better than I am, + bigger than I am. We two make four, or fifteen, or forty. + </p> + <p> + Well, I loitered through the fields and woods for a long time that Sunday + forenoon, not knowing in the least that Chance held me close by the hand + and was leading me onward to great events. I knew, of course, that I had + yet to find a place for the night, and that this might be difficult on + Sunday, and yet I spent that forenoon as a man spends his immortal youth—with + a glorious disregard for the future. + </p> + <p> + Some time after noon—for the sun was high and the day was growing + much warmer—I turned from the road, climbed an inviting little hill, + and chose a spot in an old meadow in the shade of an apple tree and there + I lay down on the grass, and looked up into the dusky shadows of the + branches above me. I could feel the soft airs on my face; I could hear the + buzzing of bees in the meadow flowers, and by turning my head just a + little I could see the slow fleecy clouds, high up, drifting across the + perfect blue of the sky. And the scent of the fields in spring!—he + who has known it, even once, may indeed die happy. + </p> + <p> + Men worship God in various ways: it seemed to me that Sabbath morning, as + I lay quietly there in the warm silence of midday, that I was truly + worshipping God. That Sunday morning everything about me seemed somehow to + be a miracle—a miracle gratefully accepted and explainable only by + the presence of God. There was another strange, deep feeling which I had + that morning, which I have had a few other times in my life at the rare + heights of experience—I hesitate always when I try to put down the + deep, deep things of the human heart—a feeling immeasurably real, + that if I should turn my head quickly I should indeed SEE that Immanent + Presence.... + </p> + <p> + One of the few birds I know that sings through the long midday is the + vireo. The vireo sings when otherwise the woods are still. You do not see + him; you cannot find him; but you know he is there. And his singing is + wild, and shy, and mystical. Often it haunts you like the memory of some + former happiness. That day I heard the vireo singing.... + </p> + <p> + I don't know how long I lay there under the tree in the meadow, but + presently I heard, from no great distance, the sound of a church-bell. It + was ringing for the afternoon service which among the farmers of this part + of the country often takes the place, in summer, of both morning and + evening services. + </p> + <p> + “I believe I'll go,” I said, thinking first of all, I confess, of the + interesting people I might meet there. + </p> + <p> + But when I sat up and looked about me the desire faded, and rummaging in + my bag I came across my tin whistle. Immediately I began practising a tune + called “Sweet Afton,” which I had learned when a boy; and, as I played, my + mood changed swiftly, and I began to smile at myself as a tragically + serious person, and to think of pat phrases with which to characterize the + execrableness of my attempts upon the tin whistle. I should have liked + some one near to joke with. + </p> + <p> + Long ago I made a motto about boys: Look for a boy anywhere. Never be + surprised when you shake a cherry tree if a boy drops out of it; never be + disturbed when you think yourself in complete solitude if you discover a + boy peering out at you from a fence corner. + </p> + <p> + I had not been playing long before I saw two boys looking at me from out + of a thicket by the roadside; and a moment later two others appeared. + </p> + <p> + Instantly I switched into “Marching Through Georgia,” and began to nod my + head and tap my toe in the liveliest fashion. Presently one boy climbed up + on the fence, then another, then a third. I continued to play. The fourth + boy, a little chap, ventured to climb up on the fence. + </p> + <p> + They were bright-faced, tow-headed lads, all in Sunday clothes. + </p> + <p> + “It's hard luck,” said I, taking my whistle from my lips, “to have to wear + shoes and stockings on a warm Sunday like this.” + </p> + <p> + “You bet it is!” said the bold leader. + </p> + <p> + “In that case,” said I, “I will play 'Yankee Doodle.'” + </p> + <p> + I played. All the boys, including the little chap, came up around me, and + two of them sat down quite familiarly on the grass. I never had a more + devoted audience. I don't know what interesting event might have happened + next, for the bold leader, who stood nearest, was becoming dangerously + inflated with questions—I don't know what might have happened had we + not been interrupted by the appearance of a Spectre in Black. It appeared + before us there in the broad daylight in the middle of a sunny afternoon + while we were playing “Yankee Doodle.” First I saw the top of a black hat + rising over the rim of the hill. This was followed quickly by a black tie, + a long black coat, black trousers, and, finally, black shoes. I admit I + was shaken, but being a person of iron nerve in facing such phenomena, I + continued to play “Yankee Doodle.” In spite of this counter-attraction, + toward which all four boys turned uneasy glances, I held my audience. The + Black Spectre, with a black book under its arm, drew nearer. Still I + continued to play and nod my head and tap my toe. I felt like some modern + Pied Piper piping away the children of these modern hills—piping + them away from older people who could not understand them. + </p> + <p> + I could see an accusing look on the Spectre's face. I don't know what put + it into my head, and I had no sooner said it than I was sorry for my + levity, but the figure with the sad garments there in the matchless and + triumphant spring day affected me with a curious, sharp impatience. Had + any one the right to look out so dolefully upon such a day and such a + scene of simple happiness as this? So I took my whistle from my lips and + asked: + </p> + <p> + “Is God dead?” + </p> + <p> + I shall never forget the indescribable look of horror and astonishment + that swept over the young man's face. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean, sir?” he asked with an air of stern authority which + surprised me. His calling for the moment lifted him above himself: it was + the Church which spoke. + </p> + <p> + I was on my feet in an instant, regretting the pain I had given him; and + yet it seemed worth while now, having made my inadvertent remark, to show + him frankly what lay in my mind. Such things sometimes help men. + </p> + <p> + “I meant no offence, sir,” I said, “and I apologize for my flummery, but + when I saw you coming up the hill, looking so gloomy and disconsolate on + this bright day, as though you disapproved of God's world, the question + slipped out before I knew it.” + </p> + <p> + My words evidently struck deep down into some disturbed inner + consciousness, for he asked—and his words seemed to slip out before + he thought: + </p> + <p> + “Is THAT the way I impressed you?” + </p> + <p> + I found my heart going out strongly toward him. “Here,” I thought to + myself, “is a man in trouble.” + </p> + <p> + I took a good long look at him. He still a young man, though worn-looking—and + sad as I now saw it, rather than gloomy—with the sensitive lips and + the unworldly look one sees sometimes in the faces of saints. His black + coat was immaculately neat, but the worn button-covers and the shiny + lapels told their own eloquent story. Oh, it seemed to me I knew him as + well as if every incident of his life were written plainly upon his high, + pale forehead! I have lived long in a country neighbourhood, and I knew + him—poor flagellant of the rural church—I knew how he groaned + under the sins of a Community too comfortably willing to cast all its + burdens on the Lord, or on the Lord's accredited local representative. I + inferred also the usual large family and the low salary (scandalously + unpaid) and the frequent moves from place to place. + </p> + <p> + Unconsciously heaving a sigh the young man turned partly aside and said to + me in a low, gentle voice: + </p> + <p> + “You are detaining my boys from church.” + </p> + <p> + “I am very sorry,” I said, “and I will detain them no longer,” and with + that I put aside my whistle, took up my bag and moved down the hill with + them. + </p> + <p> + “The fact is,” I said, “when I heard your bell I thought of going to + church myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you?” he asked eagerly. “Did you?” + </p> + <p> + I could see that my proposal of going to church had instantly affected his + spirits. Then he hesitated abruptly with a sidelong glance at my bag and + rusty clothing. I could see exactly what was passing in his mind. + </p> + <p> + “No,” I said, smiling, as though answering a spoken question, “I am not + exactly what you would call a tramp.” + </p> + <p> + He flushed. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't mean—I WANT you to come. That's what a church is for. If I + thought—” + </p> + <p> + But he did not tell me what he thought; and, though he walked quietly at + my side, he was evidently deeply disturbed. Something of his + discouragement I sensed even then, and I don't think I was ever sorrier + for a man in my life than I was for him at that moment. Talk about the + suffering sinners! I wonder if they are to be compared with the trials of + the saints? + </p> + <p> + So we approached the little white church, and caused, I am certain, a + tremendous sensation. Nowhere does the unpredictable, the unusual, excite + such confusion as in that settled institution—the church. + </p> + <p> + I left my bag in the vestibule, where I have no doubt it was the object of + much inquiring and suspicious scrutiny, and took my place in a convenient + pew. It was a small church with an odd air of domesticity, and the + proportion of old ladies and children in the audience was pathetically + large. As a ruddy, vigorous, out-of-door person, with the dust of life + upon him, I felt distinctly out of place. + </p> + <p> + I could pick out easily the Deacon, the Old Lady Who Brought Flowers, the + President of the Sewing Circle, and, above all, the Chief Pharisee, + sitting in his high place. The Chief Pharisee—his name I learned was + Nash, Mr. J. H. Nash (I did not know then that I was soon to make his + acquaintance)—the Chief Pharisee looked as hard as nails, a + middle-aged man with stiff chin-whiskers, small round, sharp eyes, and a + pugnacious jaw. + </p> + <p> + “That man,” said I to myself, “runs this church,” and instantly I found + myself looking upon him as a sort of personification of the troubles I had + seen in the minister's eyes. + </p> + <p> + I shall not attempt to describe the service in detail. There was a + discouraging droop and quaver in the singing, and the mournful-looking + deacon who passed the collection-plate seemed inured to disappointment. + The prayer had in it a note of despairing appeal which fell like a cold + hand upon one's living soul. It gave one the impression that this was + indeed a miserable, dark, despairing world, which deserved to be + wrathfully destroyed, and that this miserable world was full of equally + miserable, broken, sinful, sickly people. + </p> + <p> + The sermon was a little better, for somewhere hidden within him this pale + young man had a spark of the divine fire, but it was so dampened by the + atmosphere of the church that it never rose above a pale luminosity. + </p> + <p> + I found the service indescribably depressing. I had an impulse to rise up + and cry out—almost anything to shock these people into opening their + eyes upon real life. Indeed, though I hesitate about setting it down here, + I was filled for some time with the liveliest imaginings of the following + serio-comic enterprise: + </p> + <p> + I would step up the aisle, take my place in front of the Chief Pharisee, + wag my finger under his nose, and tell him a thing or two about the + condition of the church. + </p> + <p> + “The only live thing here,” I would tell him, “is the spark in that pale + minister's soul; and you're doing your best to smother that.” + </p> + <p> + And I fully made up my mind that when he answered back in his + chief-pharisaical way I would gently—but firmly remove him from his + seat, shake him vigorously two or three times (men's souls have often been + saved with less!), deposit him flat in the aisle, and yes—stand on + him while I elucidated the situation to the audience at large. While I + confined this amusing and interesting project to the humours of the + imagination I am still convinced that something of the sort would have + helped enormously in clearing up the religious and moral atmosphere of the + place. + </p> + <p> + I had a wonderful sensation of relief when at last I stepped out again + into the clear afternoon sunshine and got a reviving glimpse of the + smiling green hills and the quiet fields and the sincere trees—and + felt the welcome of the friendly road. + </p> + <p> + I would have made straight for the hills, but the thought of that pale + minister held me back; and I waited quietly there under the trees till he + came out. He was plainly looking for me, and asked me to wait and walk + along with him, at which his four boys, whose acquaintance I had made + under such thrilling circumstances earlier in the day, seemed highly + delighted, and waited with me under the tree and told me a hundred + important things about a certain calf, a pig, a kite, and other things at + home. + </p> + <p> + Arriving at the minister's gate, I was invited in with a whole-heartedness + that was altogether charming. The minister's wife, a faded-looking woman + who had once possessed a delicate sort of prettiness, was waiting for us + on the steps with a fine chubby baby on her arm—number five. + </p> + <p> + The home was much the sort of place I had imagined—a small house + undesirably located (but cheap!), with a few straggling acres of garden + and meadow upon which the minister and his boys were trying with + inexperienced hands to piece out their inadequate living. At the very + first glimpse of the garden I wanted to throw off my coat and go at it. + </p> + <p> + And yet—and yet——what a wonderful thing love is! There + was, after all, something incalculable, something pervasively beautiful + about this poor household. The moment the minister stepped inside his own + door he became a different and livelier person. Something boyish crept + into his manner, and a new look came into the eyes of his faded wife that + made her almost pretty again. And the fat, comfortable baby rolled and + gurgled about on the floor as happily as though there had been two nurses + and a governess to look after him. As for the four boys, I have never seen + healthier or happier ones. + </p> + <p> + I sat with them at their Sunday-evening luncheon. As the minister bowed + his head to say grace I felt him clasp my hand on one side while the + oldest boy clasped my hand on the other, and thus, linked together, and + accepting the stranger utterly, the family looked up to God. + </p> + <p> + There was a fine, modest gayety about the meal. In front of Mrs. Minister + stood a very large yellow bowl filled with what she called rusk—a + preparation unfamiliar to me, made by browning and crushing the crusts of + bread and then rolling them down into a coarse meal. A bowl of this, with + sweet, rich, yellow milk (for they kept their own cow), made one of the + most appetizing dishes that ever I ate. It was downright good: it gave one + the unalloyed aroma of the sweet new milk and the satisfying taste of the + crisp bread. + </p> + <p> + Nor have I ever enjoyed a more perfect hospitality. I have been in many a + richer home where there was not a hundredth part of the true gentility—the + gentility of unapologizing simplicity and kindness. + </p> + <p> + And after it was over and cleared away—the minister himself donning + a long apron and helping his wife—and the chubby baby put to bed, we + all sat around the table in the gathering twilight. + </p> + <p> + I think men perish sometimes from sheer untalked talk. For lack of a + creative listener they gradually fill up with unexpressed emotion. + Presently this emotion begins to ferment, and finally—bang!—they + blow up, burst, disappear in thin air. In all that community I suppose + there was no one but the little faded wife to whom the minister dared open + his heart, and I think he found me a godsend. All I really did was to look + from one to the other and put in here and there an inciting comment or ask + an understanding question. After he had told me his situation and the + difficulties which confronted him and his small church, he exclaimed + suddenly: + </p> + <p> + “A minister should by rights be a leader, not only inside of his church, + but outside it in the community.” + </p> + <p> + “You are right,” I exclaimed with great earnestness; “you are right.” + </p> + <p> + And with that I told him of our own Scotch preacher and how he led and + moulded our community; and as I talked I could see him actually growing, + unfolding, under my eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Why,” said I, “you not only ought to be the moral leader of this + community, but you are!” + </p> + <p> + “That's what I tell him,” exclaimed his wife. + </p> + <p> + “But he persists in thinking, doesn't he, that he is a poor sinner?” + </p> + <p> + “He thinks it too much,” she laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes,” he said, as much to himself as to us, “a minister ought to be + a fighter!” + </p> + <p> + It was beautiful, the boyish flush which now came into his face and the + light that came into his eyes. I should never have identified him with the + Black Spectre of the afternoon. + </p> + <p> + “Why,” said I, “you ARE a fighter; you're fighting the greatest battle in + the world today—the only real battle—the battle for the + spiritual view of life.” + </p> + <p> + Oh, I knew exactly what was the trouble with his religion—at least + the religion which, under the pressure of that church he felt obliged to + preach! It was the old, groaning, denying, resisting religion. It was the + sort of religion which sets a man apart and assures him that the entire + universe in the guise of the Powers of Darkness is leagued against him. + What he needed was a reviving draught of the new faith which affirms, + accepts, rejoices, which feels the universe triumphantly behind it. And so + whenever the minister told me what he ought to be—for he too sensed + the new impulse—I merely told him he was just that. He needed only + this little encouragement to unfold. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said he again, “I am the real moral leader here.” + </p> + <p> + At this I saw Mrs. Minister nodding her head vigorously. + </p> + <p> + “It's you,” she said, “and not Mr. Nash, who should lead this community.” + </p> + <p> + How a woman loves concrete applications. She is your only true pragmatist. + If a philosophy will not work, says she, why bother with it? + </p> + <p> + The minister rose quickly from his chair, threw back his head, and strode + quickly up and down the room. + </p> + <p> + “You are right,” said he; “and I WILL lead it. I'll have my farmers' + meetings as I planned.” + </p> + <p> + It may have been the effect of the lamplight, but it seemed to me that + little Mrs. Minister, as she glanced up at him, looked actually pretty. + </p> + <p> + The minister continued to stride up and down the room with his chin in the + air. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Nash,” said she in a low voice to me, “is always trying to hold him + down and keep him back. My husband WANTS to do the great things”—wistfully. + </p> + <p> + “By every right,” the minister was repeating, quite oblivious of our + presence, “I should lead these people.” + </p> + <p> + “He sees the weakness of the church,” she continued, “as well as any one, + and he wants to start some vigorous community work—have agricultural + meetings and boys' clubs, and lots of things like that—but Mr. Nash + says it is no part of a minister's work: that it cheapens religion. He + says that when a parson—Mr. Nash always calls him parson, and I just + LOATHE that name—has preached, and prayed, and visited the sick, + that's enough for HIM.” + </p> + <p> + At this very moment a step sounded upon the walk, and an instant later a + figure appeared in the doorway. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Mr. Nash,” exclaimed little Mrs. Minister, exhibiting that + astonishing gift of swift recovery which is the possession of even the + simplest women, “come right in.” + </p> + <p> + It was some seconds before the minister could come down from the heights + and greet Mr. Nash. As for me, I was never more interested in my life. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said I to myself, “we shall see Christian meet Apollyon.” + </p> + <p> + As soon as Mrs. Minister lighted the lamp I was introduced to the great + man. He looked at me sharply with his small, round eyes, and said: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you are the—the man who was in church this afternoon.” + </p> + <p> + I admitted it, and he looked around at the minister with an accusing + expression. He evidently did not approve of me, nor could I wholly blame + him, for I knew well how he, as a rich farmer, must look upon a rusty man + of the road like me. I should have liked dearly to cross swords with him + myself, but greater events were imminent. + </p> + <p> + In no time at all the discussion, which had evidently been broken off at + some previous meeting, concerning the proposed farmers' assembly at the + church, had taken on a really lively tone. Mr. Nash was evidently in the + somewhat irritable mood with which important people may sometimes indulge + themselves, for he bit off his words in a way that was calculated to make + any but an unusually meek and saintly man exceedingly uncomfortable. But + the minister, with the fine, high humility of those whose passion is for + great or true things, was quite oblivious to the harsh words. Borne along + by an irresistible enthusiasm, he told in glowing terms what his plan + would mean to the community, how the people needed a new social and civic + spirit—a “neighbourhood religious feeling” he called it. And as he + talked his face flushed, and his eyes shone with the pure fire of a great + purpose. But I could see that all this enthusiasm impressed the practical + Mr. Nash as mere moonshine. He grew more and more uneasy. Finally he + brought his hand down with a resounding thwack upon his knee, and said in + a high, cutting voice: + </p> + <p> + “I don't believe in any such newfangled nonsense. It ain't none of a + parson's business what the community does. You're hired, ain't you, an' + paid to run the church? That's the end of it. We ain't goin' to have any + mixin' of religion an' farmin' in THIS neighbourhood.” + </p> + <p> + My eyes were on the pale man of God. I felt as though a human soul were + being weighed in the balance. What would he do now? What was he worth + REALLY as a man as well as a minister? + </p> + <p> + He paused a moment with downcast eyes. I saw little Mrs. Minister glance + at him—once—wistfully. He rose from his place, drew himself up + to his full height—I shall not soon forget the look on his face—and + uttered these amazing words: + </p> + <p> + “Martha, bring the ginger-jar.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Minister, without a word, went to a little cupboard on the farther + side of the room and took down a brown earthenware jar, which she brought + over and placed on the table, Mr. Nash following her movements with + astonished eyes. No one spoke. + </p> + <p> + The minister took the jar in his hands as he might the communion-cup just + before saying the prayer of the sacrament. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Nash,” said he in a loud voice, “I've decided to hold that farmers' + meeting.” + </p> + <p> + Before Mr. Nash could reply the minister seated himself and was pouring + out the contents of the jar upon the table—a clatter of dimes, + nickels, pennies, a few quarters and half dollars, and a very few bills. + </p> + <p> + “Martha, just how much money is there?” + </p> + <p> + “Twenty-four dollars and sixteen cents.” + </p> + <p> + The minister put his hand into his pocket and, after counting out certain + coins, said: + </p> + <p> + “Here's one dollar and eighty-four cents more. That makes twenty-six + dollars. Now, Mr. Nash, you're the largest contributor to my salary in + this neighbourhood. You gave twenty-six dollars last year—fifty + cents a week. It is a generous contribution, but I cannot take it any + longer. It is fortunate that my wife has saved up this money to buy a + sewing-machine, so that we can pay back your contribution in full.” + </p> + <p> + He paused; no one of us spoke a word. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Nash,” he continued, and his face was good to see, “I am the minister + here. I am convinced that what the community needs is more of a religious + and social spirit, and I am going about getting it in the way the Lord + leads me.” + </p> + <p> + At this I saw Mrs. Minister look up at her husband with such a light in + her eyes as any man might well barter his life for—I could not keep + my own eyes from pure beauty of it. + </p> + <p> + I knew too what this defiance meant. It meant that this little family was + placing its all upon the altar—even the pitiful coins for which they + had skimped and saved for months for a particular purpose. Talk of the + heroism of the men who charged with Pickett at Gettysburg! Here was a + courage higher and whiter than that; here was a courage that dared to + fight alone. + </p> + <p> + As for Mr. Nash, the face of that Chief Pharisee was a study. Nothing is + so paralyzing to a rich man as to find suddenly that his money will no + longer command him any advantage. Like all hard-shelled, practical people, + Mr. Nash could only dominate in a world which recognized the same material + supremacy that he recognized. Any one who insisted upon flying was lost to + Mr. Nash. + </p> + <p> + The minister pushed the little pile of coins toward him. + </p> + <p> + “Take it, Mr. Nash,” said he. + </p> + <p> + At that Mr. Nash rose hastily. + </p> + <p> + “I will not,” he said gruffly. + </p> + <p> + He paused, and looked at the minister with a strange expression in his + small round eyes—was it anger, or was it fear, or could it have been + admiration? + </p> + <p> + “If you want to waste your time on fiddlin' farmers' meetings—a man + that knows as little of farmin' as you do—why go ahead for all o' + me. But don't count me in.” + </p> + <p> + He turned, reached for his hat, and then went out of the door into the + darkness. + </p> + <p> + For a moment we all sat perfectly silent, then the minister rose, and said + solemnly: + </p> + <p> + “Martha, let's sing something.” + </p> + <p> + Martha crossed the room to the cottage organ and seated herself on the + stool. + </p> + <p> + “What shall we sing?” said she. + </p> + <p> + “Something with fight in it, Martha,” he responded; “something with plenty + of fight in it.” + </p> + <p> + So we sang “Onward, Christian Soldier, Marching as to War,” and followed + up with: + </p> + <p> + Awake, my soul, stretch every nerve And press with rigour on; A heavenly + race demands thy zeal And an immortal crown. + </p> + <p> + When we had finished, and as Martha rose from her seat, the minister + impulsively put his hands on her shoulders, and said: + </p> + <p> + “Martha, this is the greatest night of my life.” + </p> + <p> + He took a turn up and down the room, and then with an exultant boyish + laugh said: + </p> + <p> + “We'll go to town to-morrow and pick out that sewing-machine!” + </p> + <p> + I remained with them that night and part of the following day, taking a + hand with them in the garden, but of the events of that day I shall speak + in another chapter. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. I PLAY THE PART OF A SPECTACLE PEDDLER + </h2> + <p> + Yesterday was exactly the sort of a day I love best—a spicy, + unexpected, amusing day—crowned with a droll adventure. + </p> + <p> + I cannot account for it, but it seems to me I take the road each morning + with a livelier mind and keener curiosity. If you were to watch me + narrowly these days you would see I am slowly shedding my years. I suspect + that some one of the clear hill streams from which I have been drinking + (lying prone on my face) was in reality the fountain of eternal youth. I + shall not go back to see. + </p> + <p> + It seems to me, when I feel like this, that in every least thing upon the + roadside, or upon the hill, lurks the stuff of adventure. What a world it + is! A mile south of here I shall find all that Stanley found in the + jungles of Africa; a mile north I am Peary at the Pole! + </p> + <p> + You there, brown-clad farmer on the tall seat of your wagon, driving + townward with a red heifer for sale, I can show you that life—your + life—is not all a gray smudge, as you think it is, but crammed, + packed, loaded with miraculous things. I can show you wonders past belief + in your own soul. I can easily convince you that you are in reality a + poet, a hero, a true lover, a saint. + </p> + <p> + It is because we are not humble enough in the presence of the divine daily + fact that adventure knocks so rarely at our door. A thousand times I have + had to learn this truth (what lesson so hard to learn as the lesson of + humility!) and I suppose I shall have to learn it a thousand times more. + This very day, straining my eyes to see the distant wonders of the + mountains, I nearly missed a miracle by the roadside. + </p> + <p> + Soon after leaving the minister and his family—I worked with them in + their garden with great delight most of the forenoon—I came, within + a mile—to the wide white turnpike—the Great Road. + </p> + <p> + Now, I usually prefer the little roads, the little, unexpected, curving, + leisurely country roads. The sharp hills, the pleasant deep valleys, the + bridges not too well kept, the verdure deep grown along old fences, the + houses opening hospitably at the very roadside, all these things I love. + They come to me with the same sort of charm and flavour, only vastly + magnified, which I find often in the essays of the older writers—those + leisurely old fellows who took time to write, REALLY write. The important + thing to me about a road, as about life—and literature, is not that + it goes anywhere, but that it is livable while it goes. For if I were to + arrive—and who knows that I ever shall arrive?—I think I + should be no happier than I am here. + </p> + <p> + Thus I have commonly avoided the Great White Road—the broad, smooth + turnpike—rock-bottomed and rolled by a State—without so much + as a loitering curve to whet one's curiosity, nor a thank-you-ma'am to + laugh over, nor a sinful hill to test your endurance—not so much as + a dreamy valley! It pursues its hard, unshaded, practical way directly + from some particular place to some other particular place and from time to + time a motor-car shoots in at one end of it and out at the other, leaving + its dust to settle upon quiet travellers like me. + </p> + <p> + Thus to-day when I came to the turnpike I was at first for making straight + across it and taking to the hills beyond, but at that very moment a + motor-car whirled past me as I stood there and a girl with a merry face + waved her hand at me. I lifted my hat in return—and as I watched + them out of sight I felt a curious new sense of warmth and friendliness + there in the Great Road. + </p> + <p> + “These are just people, too,” I said aloud—“and maybe they really + like it!” + </p> + <p> + And with that I began laughing at myself, and at the whole, big, amazing, + interesting world. Here was I pitying them for their benighted state, and + there were they, no doubt, pitying me for mine! + </p> + <p> + And with that pleasant and satisfactory thought in my mind and a song in + my throat I swung into the Great Road. + </p> + <p> + “It doesn't matter in the least,” said I to myself, “whether a man takes + hold of life by the great road or the little ones so long as he takes + hold.” + </p> + <p> + And oh, it was a wonderful day! A day with movement in it; a day that + flowed! In every field the farmers were at work, the cattle fed widely in + the meadows, and the Great Road itself was alive with a hundred varied + sorts of activity. Light winds stirred the tree-tops and rippled in the + new grass; and from the thickets I heard the blackbirds crying. Everything + animate and inanimate, that morning, seemed to have its own clear voice + and to cry out at me for my interest, or curiosity, or sympathy. Under + such circumstances it could not have been long—nor was it long—before + I came plump upon the first of a series of odd adventures. + </p> + <p> + A great many people, I know, abominate the roadside sign. It seems to them + a desecration of nature, the intrusion of rude commercialism upon the + perfection of natural beauty. But not I. I have no such feeling. Oh, the + signs in themselves are often rude and unbeautiful, and I never wished my + own barn or fences to sing the praises of swamp root or sarsaparilla—and + yet there is something wonderfully human about these painted and pasted + vociferations of the roadside signs; and I don't know why they are less + “natural” in their way than a house or barn or a planted field of corn. + They also tell us about life. How eagerly they cry out at us, “Buy me, buy + me!” What enthusiasm they have in their own concerns, what boundless faith + in themselves! How they speak of the enormous energy, activity, + resourcefulness of human kind! + </p> + <p> + Indeed, I like all kinds of signs. The autocratic warnings of the road, + the musts and the must-nots of traffic, I observe in passing; and I often + stand long at the crossings and look up at the finger-posts, and consider + my limitless wealth as a traveller. By this road I may, at my own + pleasure, reach the Great City; by that—who knows?—the far + wonders of Cathay. And I respond always to the appeal which the devoted + pilgrim paints on the rocks at the roadside: “Repent ye, for the kingdom + of God is at hand,” and though I am certain that the kingdom of God is + already here, I stop always and repent—just a little—knowing + that there is always room for it. At the entrance of the little towns, + also, or in the squares of the villages, I stop often to read the signs of + taxes assessed, or of political meetings; I see the evidences of homes + broken up in the notices of auction sales, and of families bereaved in the + dry and formal publications of the probate court. I pause, too, before the + signs of amusements flaming red and yellow on the barns (boys, the circus + is coming to town!), and I pause also, but no longer, to read the silent + signs carved in stone in the little cemeteries as I pass. Symbols, you + say? Why, they're the very stuff of life. If you cannot see life here in + the wide road, you will never see it at all. + </p> + <p> + Well, I saw a sign yesterday at the roadside that I never saw anywhere + before. It was not a large sign—indeed rather inconspicuous—consisting + of a single word rather crudely painted in black (as by an amateur) upon a + white board. It was nailed to a tree where those in swift passing cars + could not avoid seeing it: + </p> + <p> + [ REST ] + </p> + <p> + I cannot describe the odd sense of enlivenment, of pleasure I had when I + saw this new sign. + </p> + <p> + “Rest!” I exclaimed aloud. “Indeed I will,” and I sat down on a stone not + far away. + </p> + <p> + “Rest!” + </p> + <p> + What a sign for this very spot! Here in the midst of the haste and hurry + of the Great Road a quiet voice was saying, “Rest.” Some one with + imagination, I thought, evidently put that up; some quietist offering this + mild protest against the breathless progress of the age. How often I have + felt the same way myself—as though I were being swept onward through + life faster than I could well enjoy it. For nature passes the dishes far + more rapidly than we can help ourselves. + </p> + <p> + Or perhaps, thought I, eagerly speculating, this may be only some cunning + advertiser with rest for sale (in these days even rest has its price), + thus piquing the curiosity of the traveller for the disclosure which he + will make a mile or so farther on. Or else some humourist wasting his wit + upon the Fraternity of the Road, too willing (like me, perhaps) to accept + his ironical advice. But it would be well worth while should I find him, + to see him chuckle behind his hand. + </p> + <p> + So I sat there very much interested, for a long time, even framing a + rather amusing picture in my own mind of the sort of person who painted + these signs, deciding finally that he must be a zealot rather than a + trader or humourist. (Confidentially, I could not make a picture of him in + which he was not endowed with plentiful long hair). As I walked onward + again, I decided that in any guise I should like to see him, and I enjoyed + thinking what I should say if I met him. A mile farther up the road I saw + another sign exactly like the first. + </p> + <p> + “Here he is again,” I said exultantly, and that sign being somewhat nearer + the ground I was able to examine it carefully front and back, but it bore + no evidence of its origin. + </p> + <p> + In the next few miles I saw two other signs with nothing on them but the + word “Rest.” + </p> + <p> + Now this excellent admonition—like much of the excellent admonitions + in this world—affected me perversely: it made me more restless than + ever. I felt that I could not rest properly until I found out who wanted + me to rest, and why. It opened indeed a limitless vista for new adventure. + </p> + <p> + Presently, away ahead of me in the road, I saw a man standing near a + one-horse wagon. He seemed to be engaged in some activity near the + roadside, but I could not tell exactly what. As I hastened nearer I + discovered that he was a short, strongly built, sun-bronzed man in + working-clothes—and with the shortest of short hair. I saw him take + a shovel from the wagon and begin digging. He was the road-worker. + </p> + <p> + I asked the road-worker if he had seen the curious signs. He looked up at + me with a broad smile (he had good-humoured, very bright blue eyes). + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said, “but they ain't for me.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you don't follow the advice they give?” + </p> + <p> + “Not with a section like mine,” said he, and he straightened up and looked + first one way of the road and then the other. “I have from Grabow Brook, + but not the bridge, to the top o' Sullivan Hill, and all the culverts + between, though two of 'em are by rights bridges. And I claim that's a job + for any full-grown man.” + </p> + <p> + He began shovelling again in the road as if to prove how busy he was. + There had been a small landslide from an open cut on one side and a mass + of gravel and small boulders lay scattered on the smooth macadam. I + watched him for a moment. I love to watch the motions of vigorous men at + work, the easy play of the muscles, the swing of the shoulders, the vigour + of stoutly planted legs. He evidently considered the conversation closed, + and I, as—well, as a dusty man of the road—easily dismissed. + (You have no idea, until you try it, what a weight of prejudice the man of + the road has to surmount before he is accepted on easy terms by the + ordinary members of the human race.) + </p> + <p> + A few other well-intentioned observations on my part having elicited + nothing but monosyllabic replies, I put my bag down by the roadside and, + going up to the wagon, got out a shovel, and without a word took my place + at the other end of the landslide and began to shovel for all I was worth. + </p> + <p> + I said not a word to the husky road-worker and pretended not to look at + him, but I saw him well enough out of the corner of my eye. He was + evidently astonished and interested, as I knew he would be: it was + something entirely new on the road. He didn't quite know whether to be + angry, or amused, or sociable. I caught him looking over at me several + times, but I offered no response; then he cleared his throat and said: + </p> + <p> + “Where you from?” + </p> + <p> + I answered with a monosyllable which I knew he could not quite catch. + Silence again for some time, during which I shovelled valiantly and with + great inward amusement. Oh, there is nothing like cracking a hard human + nut! I decided at that moment, to have him invite me to supper. + </p> + <p> + Finally, when I showed no signs of stopping my work, he himself paused and + leaned on his shovel. I kept right on. + </p> + <p> + “Say, partner,” said he, finally, “did YOU read those signs as you come up + the road?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” I said, “but they weren't for me, either. My section's a long one, + too.” + </p> + <p> + “Say, you ain't a road-worker, are you?” he asked eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said I, with a sudden inspiration, “that's exactly what I am—a + road-worker.” + </p> + <p> + “Put her there, then, partner,” he said, with a broad smile on his bronzed + face. + </p> + <p> + He and I struck hands, rested on our shovels (like old hands at it), and + looked with understanding into each other's eyes. We both knew the trade + and the tricks of the trade; all bars were down between us. The fact is, + we had both seen and profited by the peculiar signs at the roadside. + </p> + <p> + “Where's your section?” he asked easily. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” I responded after considering the question, “I have a very long + and hard section. It begins at a place called Prosy Common—do you + know it?—and reaches to the top of Clear Hill. There are several bad + spots on the way, I can tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't know it,” said the husky road-worker; “'tain't round here, is it? + In the town of Sheldon, maybe?” + </p> + <p> + Just at this moment, perhaps fortunately, for there is nothing so + difficult to satisfy as the appetite of people for specific information, a + motor-car whizzed past, the driver holding up his hand in greeting, and + the road-worker and I responding in accordance with the etiquette of the + Great Road. + </p> + <p> + “There he goes in the ruts again,” said the husky road-worker. “Why is it, + I'd like to know, that every one wants to run in the same identical track + when they've got the whole wide road before 'em?” + </p> + <p> + “That's what has long puzzled me, too,” I said. “Why WILL people continue + to run in ruts?” + </p> + <p> + “It don't seem to do no good to put up signs,” said the road-worker. + </p> + <p> + “Very little indeed,” said I. “The fact is, people have got to be bumped + out of the ruts they get into.” + </p> + <p> + “You're right,” said he enthusiastically, and his voice dropped into the + tone of one speaking to a member of the inner guild. “I know how to get + 'em.” + </p> + <p> + “How?” I asked in an equally mysterious voice. + </p> + <p> + “I put a stone or two in the ruts!” + </p> + <p> + “Do you?” I exclaimed. “I've done that very thing myself—many a + time! Just place a good hard tru—I mean stone, with a bit of common + dust sprinkled over it, in the middle of the rut, and they'll look out for + THAT rut for some time to come.” + </p> + <p> + “Ain't it gorgeous,” said the husky road-worker, chuckling joyfully, “to + see 'em bump?” + </p> + <p> + “It is,” said I—“gorgeous.” + </p> + <p> + After that, shovelling part of the time in a leisurely way, and part of + the time responding to the urgent request of the signs by the roadside (it + pays to advertise!), the husky road-worker and I discussed many great and + important subjects, all, however, curiously related to roads. Working all + day long with his old horse, removing obstructions, draining out the + culverts, filling ruts and holes with new stone, and repairing the damage + of rain and storm, the road-worker was filled with a world of practical + information covering roads and road-making. And having learned that I was + of the same calling, we exchanged views with the greatest enthusiasm. It + was astonishing to see how nearly in agreement we were as to what + constituted an ideal road. + </p> + <p> + “Almost everything,” said he, “depends on depth. If you get a good solid + foundation, the' ain't anything that can break up your road.” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly what I have discovered,” I responded. “Get down to bedrock and do + an honest job of building.” + </p> + <p> + “And don't have too many sharp turns.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said I, “long, leisurely curves are best—all through life. You + have observed that nearly all the accidents on the road are due to sharp + turnings.” + </p> + <p> + “Right you are!” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “A man who tries to turn too sharply on his way nearly always skids.” + </p> + <p> + “Or else turns turtle in the ditch.” + </p> + <p> + But it was not until we reached the subject of oiling that we mounted to + the real summit of enthusiastic agreement. Of all things on the road, or + above the road, or in the waters under the road, there is nothing that the + road-worker dislikes more than oil. + </p> + <p> + “It's all right,” said he, “to use oil for surfacin' and to keep down the + dust. You don't need much and it ain't messy. But sometimes when you see + oil pumped on a road, you know that either the contractor has been + jobbin', or else the road's worn out and ought to be rebuilt.” + </p> + <p> + “That's exactly what I've found,” said I. “Let a road become almost + impassable with ruts and rocks and dust, and immediately some man says, + 'Oh, it's all right—put on a little oil—'” + </p> + <p> + “That's what our supervisor is always sayin',” said the road-worker. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” I responded, “it usually is the supervisor. He lives by it. He + wants to smooth over the defects, he wants to lay the dust that every + passerby kicks up, he tries to smear over the truth regarding conditions + with messy and ill-smelling oil. Above everything, he doesn't want the + road dug up and rebuilt—says it will interfere with traffic, injure + business, and even set people to talking about changing the route + entirely! Oh, haven't I seen it in religion, where they are doing their + best to oil up roads that are entirely worn out—and as for politics, + is not the cry of the party-roadster and the harmony-oilers abroad in the + land?” + </p> + <p> + In the excited interest with which this idea now bore me along I had + entirely forgotten the existence of my companion, and as I now glanced at + him I saw him standing with a curious look of astonishment and suspicion + on his face. I saw that I had unintentionally gone a little too far. So I + said abruptly: + </p> + <p> + “Partner, let's get a drink. I'm thirsty.” + </p> + <p> + He followed me, I thought a bit reluctantly, to a little brook not far up + the road where we had been once before. As we were drinking, silently, I + looked at the stout young fellow standing there, and I thought to myself: + </p> + <p> + What a good, straightforward young fellow he is anyway, and how thoroughly + he knows his job. I thought how well he was equipped with unilluminated + knowledge, and it came to me whimsically, that here was a fine bit of + road-mending for me to do. + </p> + <p> + Most people have sight, but few have insight; and as I looked into the + clear blue eyes of my friend I had a sudden swift inspiration, and before + I could repent of it I had said to him in the most serious voice that I + could command: + </p> + <p> + “Friend, I am in reality a spectacle-peddler—” + </p> + <p> + His glance shifted uncomfortably to my gray bag. + </p> + <p> + “And I want to sell you a pair of spectacles,” I said. “I see that you are + nearly blind.” + </p> + <p> + “Me blind!” + </p> + <p> + It would be utterly impossible to describe the expression on his face. His + hand went involuntarily to his eyes, and he glanced quickly, somewhat + fearfully, about. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, nearly blind,” said I. “I saw it when I first met you. You don't + know it yourself yet, but I can assure you it is a bad case.” + </p> + <p> + I paused, and shook my head slowly. If I had not been so much in earnest, + I think I should have been tempted to laugh outright. I had begun my talk + with him half jestingly, with the amusing idea of breaking through his + shell, but I now found myself tremendously engrossed, and desired nothing + in the world (at that moment) so much as to make him see what I saw. I + felt as though I held a live human soul in my hand. + </p> + <p> + “Say, partner,” said the road-worker, “are you sure you aren't—” He + tapped his forehead and began to edge away. + </p> + <p> + I did not answer his question at all, but continued, with my eyes fixed on + him: + </p> + <p> + “It is a peculiar sort of blindness. Apparently, as you look about, you + see everything there is to see, but as a matter of fact you see nothing in + the world but this road—” + </p> + <p> + “It's time that I was seein' it again then,” said he, making as if to turn + back to work, but remaining with a disturbed expression on his + countenance. + </p> + <p> + “The Spectacles I have to sell,” said I, “are powerful magnifiers”—he + glanced again at the gray bag. “When you put them on you will see a + thousand wonderful things besides the road—” + </p> + <p> + “Then you ain't road-worker after all!” he said, evidently trying to be + bluff and outright with me. + </p> + <p> + Now your substantial, sober, practical American will stand only about so + much verbal foolery; and there is nothing in the world that makes him more + uncomfortable—yes, downright mad!—than to feel that he is + being played with. I could see that I had nearly reached the limit with + him, and that if I held him now it must be by driving the truth straight + home. So I stepped over toward him and said very earnestly: + </p> + <p> + “My friend, don't think I am merely joking you. I was never more in + earnest in all my life. When I told you I was a road-worker I meant it, + but I had in mind the mending of other kinds of roads than this.” + </p> + <p> + I laid my hand on his arm, and explained to him as directly and simply as + English words could do it, how, when he had spoken of oil for his roads, I + thought of another sort of oil for another sort of roads, and when he + spoke of curves in his roads I was thinking of curves in the roads I dealt + with, and I explained to him what my roads were. I have never seen a man + more intensely interested: he neither moved nor took his eyes from my + face. + </p> + <p> + “And when I spoke of selling you a pair of spectacles,” said I, “it was + only a way of telling you how much I wanted to make you see my kinds of + roads as well as your own.” + </p> + <p> + I paused, wondering if, after all, he could be made to see. I know now how + the surgeon must feel at the crucial moment of his accomplished operation. + Will the patient live or die? + </p> + <p> + The road-worker drew a long breath as he came out from under the + anesthetic. + </p> + <p> + “I guess, partner,” said he, “you're trying to put a stone or two in my + ruts!” + </p> + <p> + I had him! + </p> + <p> + “Exactly,” I exclaimed eagerly. + </p> + <p> + We both paused. He was the first to speak—with some embarrassment: + </p> + <p> + “Say, you're just like a preacher I used to know when I was a kid. He was + always sayin' things that meant something else and when you found out what + he was drivin' at you always felt kind of queer in your insides.” + </p> + <p> + I laughed. + </p> + <p> + “It's a mighty good sign,” I said, “when a man begins to feel queer in the + insides. It shows that something is happening to him.” + </p> + <p> + With that we walked back to the road, feeling very close and friendly—and + shovelling again, not saying much. After quite a time, when we had nearly + cleaned up the landslide, I heard the husky road-worker chuckling to + himself; finally, straightening up, he said: + </p> + <p> + “Say, there's more things in a road than ever I dreamt of.” + </p> + <p> + “I see,” said I, “that the new spectacles are a good fit.” + </p> + <p> + The road-worker laughed long and loud. + </p> + <p> + “You're a good one, all right,” he said. “I see what YOU mean. I catch + your point.” + </p> + <p> + “And now that you've got them on,” said I, “and they are serving you so + well, I'm not going to sell them to you at all. I'm going to present them + to you—for I haven't seen anybody in a long time that I've enjoyed + meeting more than I have you.” + </p> + <p> + We nurse a fiction that people love to cover up their feelings; but I have + learned that if the feeling is real and deep they love far better to find + a way to uncover it. + </p> + <p> + “Same here,” said the road-worker simply, but with a world of genuine + feeling in his voice. + </p> + <p> + Well, when it came time to stop work the road-worker insisted that I get + in and go home with him. + </p> + <p> + “I want you to see my wife and kids,” said he. + </p> + <p> + The upshot of it was that I not only remained for supper—and a good + supper it was—but I spent the night in his little home, close at the + side of the road near the foot of a fine hill. And from time to time all + night long, it seemed to me, I could hear the rush of cars going by in the + smooth road outside, and sometimes their lights flashed in at my window, + and sometimes I heard them sound their brassy horns. + </p> + <p> + I wish I could tell more of what I saw there, of the garden back of the + house, and of all the road-worker and his wife told me of their simple + history—but, the road calls! + </p> + <p> + When I set forth early this morning the road-worker followed me out to the + smooth macadam (his wife standing in the doorway with her hands rolled in + her apron) and said to me, a bit shyly: + </p> + <p> + “I'll be more sort o'—sort o' interested in roads since I've seen + you.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll be along again some of these days,” said I, laughing, “and I'll stop + in and show you my new stock of spectacles. Maybe I can sell you another + pair!” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe you kin,” and he smiled a broad, understanding smile. + </p> + <p> + Nothing brings men together like having a joke in common. + </p> + <p> + So I walked off down the road—in the best of spirits—ready for + the events of another day. + </p> + <p> + It will surely be a great adventure, one of these days, to come this way + again—and to visit the Stanleys, and the Vedders, and the Minister, + and drop in and sell another pair of specs to the Road-worker. It seems to + me I have a wonderfully rosy future ahead of me! + </p> + <p> + P. S.—I have not yet found out who painted the curious signs; but I + am not as uneasy about it as I was. I have seen two more of them already + this morning—and find they exert quite a psychological influence. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. AN EXPERIMENT IN HUMAN NATURE + </h2> + <p> + In the early morning after I left the husky road-mender (wearing his new + spectacles), I remained steadfastly on the Great Road or near it. It was a + prime spring day, just a little hazy, as though promising rain, but soft + and warm. + </p> + <p> + “They will be working in the garden at home,” I thought, “and there will + be worlds of rhubarb and asparagus.” Then I remembered how the morning + sunshine would look on the little vine-clad back porch (reaching halfway + up the weathered door) of my own house among the hills. + </p> + <p> + It was the first time since my pilgrimage began that I had thought with + any emotion of my farm—or of Harriet. + </p> + <p> + And then the road claimed me again, and I began to look out for some + further explanation of the curious sign, the single word “Rest,” which had + interested me so keenly on the preceding day. It may seem absurd to some + who read these lines—some practical people!—but I cannot + convey the pleasure I had in the very elusiveness and mystery of the sign, + nor how I wished I might at the next turn come upon the poet himself. I + decided that no one but a poet could have contented himself with a lyric + in one word, unless it might have been a humourist, to whom sometimes a + single small word is more blessed than all the verbal riches of Webster + himself. For it is nothing short of genius that uses one word when twenty + will say the same thing! + </p> + <p> + Or, would he, after all, turn out to be only a more than ordinarily + alluring advertiser? I confess my heart went into my throat that morning, + when I first saw the sign, lest it read: + </p> + <p> + [ RESTaurant 2 miles east ] + </p> + <p> + nor should I have been surprised if it had. + </p> + <p> + I caught a vicarious glimpse of the sign-man to-day, through the eyes of a + young farmer. Yes, he s'posed he'd seen him, he said; wore a slouch hat, + couldn't tell whether he was young or old. Drove into the bushes (just + down there beyond the brook) and, standin' on the seat of his buggy, + nailed something to a tree. A day or two later—the dull wonder of + mankind!—the young farmer, passing that way to town, had seen the + odd sign “Rest” on the tree: he s'posed the fellow put it there. + </p> + <p> + “What does it mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, naow, I hadn't thought,” said the young farmer. + </p> + <p> + “Did the fellow by any chance have long hair?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, naow, I didn't notice,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure he wore a slouch hat?” + </p> + <p> + “Ye-es—or it may a-been straw,” replied the observant young farmer. + </p> + <p> + So I tramped that morning; and as I tramped I let my mind go out warmly to + the people living all about on the farms or in the hills. It is pleasant + at times to feel life, as it were, in general terms: no specific Mr. Smith + or concrete Mr. Jones, but just human life. I love to think of people all + around going out busily in the morning to their work and returning at + night, weary, to rest. I like to think of them growing up, growing old, + loving, achieving, sinning, failing—in short, living. + </p> + <p> + In such a live-minded mood as this it often happens that the most ordinary + things appear charged with new significance. I suppose I had seen a + thousand rural-mail boxes along country roads before that day, but I had + seen them as the young farmer saw the sign-man. They were mere inert + objects of iron and wood. + </p> + <p> + But as I tramped, thinking of the people in the hills, I came quite + unexpectedly upon a sandy by-road that came out through a thicket of scrub + oaks and hazel-brush, like some shy countryman, to join the turn-pike. As + I stood looking into it—for it seemed peculiarly inviting—I + saw at the entrance a familiar group of rural-mail boxes. And I saw them + not as dead things, but for the moment—the illusion was + over-powering—they were living, eager hands outstretched to the + passing throng I could feel, hear, see the farmers up there in the hills + reaching out to me, to all the world, for a thousand inexpressible things, + for more life, more companionship, more comforts, more money. + </p> + <p> + It occurred to me at that moment, whimsically and yet somehow seriously, + that I might respond to the appeal of the shy country road and the + outstretched hands. At first I did not think of anything I could do—save + to go up and eat dinner with one of the hill farmers, which might not be + an unmixed blessing!—and then it came to me. + </p> + <p> + “I will write a letter!” + </p> + <p> + Straightway and with the liveliest amusement I began to formulate in my + mind what I should say: + </p> + <p> + Dear Friend: You do not know me. I am a passerby in the road. My name is + David Grayson. You do not know me, and it may seem odd to you to receive a + letter from an entire stranger. But I am something of a farmer myself, and + as I went by I could not help thinking of you and your family and your + farm. The fact is, I should like to look you up, and talk with you about + many things. I myself cultivate a number of curious fields, and raise many + kinds of crops— + </p> + <p> + At this interesting point my inspiration suddenly collapsed, for I had a + vision, at once amusing and disconcerting, of my hill farmer (and his + practical wife!) receiving such a letter (along with the country paper, a + circular advertising a cure for catarrh, and the most recent catalogue of + the largest mail-order house in creation). I could see them standing there + in their doorway, the man with his coat off, doubtfully scratching his + head as he read my letter, the woman wiping her hands on her apron and + looking over his shoulder, and a youngster squeezing between the two and + demanding, “What is it, Paw?” + </p> + <p> + I found myself wondering how they would receive such an unusual letter, + what they would take it to mean. And in spite of all I could do, I could + imagine no expression on their faces save one of incredulity and + suspicion. I could fairly see the shrewd worldly wise look come into the + farmer's face; I could hear him say: + </p> + <p> + “Ha, guess he thinks we ain't cut our eye-teeth!” And he would instantly + begin speculating as to whether this was a new scheme for selling him + second-rate nursery stock, or the smooth introduction of another + sewing-machine agent. + </p> + <p> + Strange world, strange world! Sometimes it seems to me that the hardest + thing of all to believe in is simple friendship. Is it not a comment upon + our civilization that it is so often easier to believe that a man is a + friend-for-profit, or even a cheat, than that he is frankly a well-wisher + of his neighbours? + </p> + <p> + These reflections put such a damper upon my enthusiasm that I was on the + point of taking again to the road, when it came to me powerfully: Why not + try the experiment? Why not? + </p> + <p> + “Friendship,” I said aloud, “is the greatest thing in the world. There is + no door it will not unlock, no problem it will not solve. It is, after + all, the only real thing in this world.” + </p> + <p> + The sound of my own voice brought me suddenly to myself, and I found that + I was standing there in the middle of the public road, one clenched fist + absurdly raised in air, delivering an oration to a congregation of + rural-mail boxes! + </p> + <p> + And yet, in spite of the humorous aspects of the idea, it still appeared + to me that such an experiment would not only fit in with the true object + of my journeying, but that it might be full of amusing and interesting + adventures. Straightway I got my notebook out of my bag and, sitting down + near the roadside, wrote my letter. I wrote it as though my life depended + upon it, with the intent of making some one household there in the hills + feel at least a little wave of warmth and sympathy from the great world + that was passing in the road below. I tried to prove the validity of a + kindly thought with no selling device attached to it; I tried to make it + such a word of frank companionship as I myself, working in my own fields, + would like to receive. + </p> + <p> + Among the letter-boxes in the group was one that stood a little detached + and behind the others, as though shrinking from such prosperous company. + It was made of unpainted wood, with leather hinges, and looked shabby in + comparison with the jaunty red, green, and gray paint of some of the other + boxes (with their cocky little metallic flags upraised). It bore the good + American name of Clark—T. N. Clark—and it seemed to me that I + could tell something of the Clarks by the box at the crossing. + </p> + <p> + “I think they need a friendly word,” I said to myself. + </p> + <p> + So I wrote the name T. N. Clark on my envelope and put the letter in his + box. + </p> + <p> + It was with a sense of joyous adventure that I now turned aside into the + sandy road and climbed the hill. My mind busied itself with thinking how I + should carry out my experiment, how I should approach these Clarks, and + how and what they were. A thousand ways I pictured to myself the receipt + of the letter: it would at least be something new for them, something just + a little disturbing, and I was curious to see whether it might open the + rift of wonder wide enough to let me slip into their lives. + </p> + <p> + I have often wondered why it is that men should be so fearful of new + ventures in social relationships, when I have found them so fertile, so + enjoyable. Most of us fear (actually fear) people who differ from + ourselves, either up or down the scale. Your Edison pries fearlessly into + the intimate secrets of matter; your Marconi employs the mysterious + properties of the “jellied ether,” but let a man seek to experiment with + the laws of that singular electricity which connects you and me (though + you be a millionaire and I a ditch-digger), and we think him a wild + visionary, an academic person. I think sometimes that the science of + humanity to-day is in about the state of darkness that the natural + sciences were when Linneus and Cuvier and Lamarck began groping for the + great laws of natural unity. Most of the human race is still groaning + under the belief that each of us is a special and unrelated creation, just + as men for ages saw no relationships between the fowls of the air, the + beasts of the field, and the fish of the sea. But, thank God, we are + beginning to learn that unity is as much a law of life as selfish + struggle, and love a more vital force than avarice or lust of power or + place. A Wandering Carpenter knew it, and taught it, twenty centuries ago. + </p> + <p> + “The next house beyond the ridge,” said the toothless old woman, pointing + with a long finger, “is the Clarks'. You can't miss it,” and I thought she + looked at me oddly. + </p> + <p> + I had been walking briskly for some three miles, and it was with keen + expectation that I now mounted the ridge and saw the farm for which I was + looking, lying there in the valley before me. It was altogether a wild and + beautiful bit of country—stunted cedars on the knolls of the rolling + hills, a brook trailing its way among alders and willows down a long + valley, and shaggy old fields smiling in the sun. As I came nearer I could + see that the only disharmony in the valley was the work (or idleness) of + men. A broken mowing-machine stood in the field where it had been left the + summer before, rusty and forlorn, and dead weeds marked the edges of a + field wherein the spring ploughing was now only half done. The whole + farmstead, indeed, looked tired. As for the house and barn, they had + reached that final stage of decay in which the best thing that could be + said of them was that they were picturesque. Everything was as different + from the farm of the energetic and joyous Stanleys, whose work I had + shared only a few days before, as anything that could be imagined. + </p> + <p> + Now, my usual way of getting into step with people is simplicity itself. I + take off my coat and go to work with them and the first thing I know we + have become first-rate friends. One doesn't dream of the possibilities of + companionship in labour until he has tried it. + </p> + <p> + But how shall one get into step with a man who is not stepping? + </p> + <p> + On the porch of the farmhouse, there in the mid-afternoon, a man sat idly; + and children were at play in the yard. I went in at the gate, not knowing + in the least what I should say or do, but determined to get hold of the + problem somewhere. As I approached the step, I swung my bag from my + shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Don't want to buy nothin',” said the man. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said I, “that is fortunate, for I have nothing to sell. But you've + got something I want.” + </p> + <p> + He looked at me dully. + </p> + <p> + “What's that?” + </p> + <p> + “A drink of water.” + </p> + <p> + Scarcely moving his head, he called to a shy older girl who had just + appeared in the doorway. + </p> + <p> + “Mandy, bring a dipper of water.” + </p> + <p> + As I stood there the children gathered curiously around me, and the man + continued to sit in his chair, saying absolutely nothing, a picture of + dull discouragement. + </p> + <p> + “How they need something to stir them up,” I thought. + </p> + <p> + When I had emptied the dipper, I sat down on the top step of the porch, + and, without saying a word to the man, placed my bag beside me and began + to open it. The shy girl paused, dipper in hand, the children stood on + tiptoe, and even the man showed signs of curiosity. With studied + deliberation I took out two books I had with me and put them on the porch; + then I proceeded to rummage for a long time in the bottom of the bag as + though I could not find what I wanted. Every eye was glued upon me, and I + even heard the step of Mrs. Clark as she came to the but I did not look up + or speak. Finally I pulled out my tin whistle and, leaning back against + the porch column, placed it to my lips, and began playing in Tom Madison's + best style (eyes half closed, one toe tapping to the music, head nodding, + fingers lifted high from the stops), I began playing “Money Musk,” and + “Old Dan Tucker.” Oh, I put vim into it, I can tell you! And bad as my + playing was, I had from the start an absorption of attention from my + audience that Paderewski himself might have envied. I wound up with a + lively trill in the high notes and took my whistle from my lips with a + hearty laugh, for the whole thing had been downright good fun, the playing + itself, the make-believe which went with it, the surprise and interest in + the children's faces, the slow-breaking smile of the little girl with the + dipper. + </p> + <p> + “I'll warrant you, madam,” I said to the woman who now stood frankly in + the doorway with her hands wrapped in her apron, “you haven't heard those + tunes since you were a girl and danced to 'em.” + </p> + <p> + “You're right,” she responded heartily. + </p> + <p> + “I'll give you another jolly one,” I said, and, replacing my whistle, I + began with even greater zest to play “Yankee Doodle.” + </p> + <p> + When I had gone through it half a dozen times with such added variations + and trills as I could command, and had two of the children hopping about + in the yard, and the forlorn man tapping his toe to the tune, and a smile + on the face of the forlorn woman, I wound up with a rush and then, as if I + could hold myself in no longer (and I couldn't either!), I suddenly burst + out: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Yankee doodle dandy! + Yankee doodle dandy! + Mind the music and the step, + And with the girls be handy. +</pre> + <p> + It may seem surprising, but I think I can understand why it was—when + I looked up at the woman in the doorway there were tears in her eyes! + </p> + <p> + “Do you know 'John Brown's Body'?” eagerly inquired the little girl with + the dipper, and then, as if she had done something quite bold and + improper, she blushed and edged toward the doorway. + </p> + <p> + “How does it go?” I asked, and one of the bold lads in the yard instantly + puckered his lips to show me, and immediately they were all trying it. + </p> + <p> + “Here goes,” said I, and for the next few minutes, and in my very best + style, I hung Jeff Davis on the sour apple-tree, and I sent the soul of + John Brown marching onward with an altogether unnecessary number of + hallelujahs. + </p> + <p> + I think sometimes that people—whole families of 'em—literally + perish for want of a good, hearty, whole-souled, mouth-opening, + throat-stretching, side-aching laugh. They begin to think themselves the + abused of creation, they begin to advise with their livers and to hate + their neighbours, and the whole world becomes a miserable dark blue place + quite unfit for human habitation. Well, all this is often only the result + of a neglect to exercise properly those muscles of the body (and of the + soul) which have to do with honest laughter. + </p> + <p> + I've never supposed I was an especially amusing person, but before I got + through with it I had the Clark family well loosened up with laughter, + although I wasn't quite sure some of the time whether Mrs. Clark was + laughing or crying. I had them all laughing and talking, asking questions + and answering them as though I were an old and valued neighbour. + </p> + <p> + Isn't it odd how unconvinced we often are by the crises in the lives of + other people? They seem to us trivial or unimportant; but the fact is, the + crises in the life of a boy, for example, or of a poor man, are as + commanding as the crises in the life of the greatest statesman or + millionaire, for they involve equally the whole personality, the entire + prospects. + </p> + <p> + The Clark family, I soon learned, had lost its pig. A trivial matter, you + say? I wonder if anything is ever trivial. A year of poor crops, sickness, + low prices, discouragement and, at the end of it, on top of it all, the + cherished pig had died! + </p> + <p> + From all accounts (and the man on the porch quite lost his apathy in + telling me about it) it must have been a pig of remarkable virtues and + attainments, a paragon of pigs—in whom had been bound up the many + possibilities of new shoes for the children, a hat for the lady, a new + pair of overalls for the gentleman, and I know not what other kindred + luxuries. I do not think, indeed, I ever had the portrait of a pig drawn + for me with quite such ardent enthusiasm of detail, and the more questions + I asked the more eager the story, until finally it became necessary for me + to go to the barn, the cattle-pen, the pig-pen and the chicken-house, that + I might visualize more clearly the scene of the tragedy. The whole family + trooped after us like a classic chorus, but Mr. Clark himself kept the + centre of the stage. + </p> + <p> + How plainly I could read upon the face of the land the story of this hill + farmer and his meagre existence—his ill-directed effort to wring a + poor living for his family from these upland fields, his poverty, and, + above all, his evident lack of knowledge of his own calling. Added to + these things, and perhaps the most depressing of all his difficulties, was + the utter loneliness of the task, the feeling that it mattered little to + any one whether the Clark family worked or not, or indeed whether they + lived or died. A perfectly good American family was here being wasted, + with the precious land they lived on, because no one had taken the trouble + to make them feel that they were a part of this Great American Job. + </p> + <p> + As we went back to the house, a freckled-nosed neighbour's boy came in at + the gate. + </p> + <p> + “A letter for you, Mr. Clark,” said he. “I brought it up with our mail.” + </p> + <p> + “A letter!” exclaimed Mrs. Clark. + </p> + <p> + “A letter!” echoed at least three of the children in unison. + </p> + <p> + “Probably a dun from Brewster,” said Mr. Clark discouragingly. + </p> + <p> + I felt a curious sensation about the heart, and an eagerness of interest I + have rarely experienced. I had no idea what a mere letter—a mere + unopened unread letter—would mean to a family like this. + </p> + <p> + “It has no stamp on it!” exclaimed the older girl. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Clark turned it over wonderingly in her hands. Mr. Clark hastily put + on a pair of steel-bowed spectacles. + </p> + <p> + “Let me see it,” he said, and when he also had inspected it minutely he + solemnly tore open the envelope and drew forth my letter. + </p> + <p> + 'I assure you I never awaited the reading of any writing of mine with such + breathless interest. How would they take it? Would they catch the meaning + that I meant to convey? And would they suspect me of having written it? + </p> + <p> + Mr. Clark sat on the porch and read the letter slowly through to the end, + turned the sheet over and examined it carefully, and then began reading it + again to himself, Mrs. Clark leaning over his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “What does it mean?” asked Mr. Clark. + </p> + <p> + “It's too good to be true,” said Mrs. Clark with a sigh. + </p> + <p> + I don't know how long the discussion might have continued—probably + for days or weeks—had not the older girl, now flushed of face and + rather pretty, looked at me and said breathlessly (she was as sharp as a + briar): + </p> + <p> + “You wrote it.” + </p> + <p> + I stood the battery of all their eyes for a moment, smiling and rather + excited. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” I said earnestly, “I wrote it, and I mean every word of it.” + </p> + <p> + I had anticipated some shock of suspicion and inquiry, but to my surprise + it was accepted as simply as a neighbourly good morning. I suppose the + mystery of it was eclipsed by my astonishing presence there upon the scene + with my tin whistle. + </p> + <p> + At any rate, it was a changed, eager, interested family which now occupied + the porch of that dilapidated farmhouse. And immediately we fell into a + lively discussion of crops and farming, and indeed the whole farm + question, in which I found both the man and his wife singularly acute—sharpened + upon the stone of hard experience. + </p> + <p> + Indeed, I found right here, as I have many times found among our American + farmers, an intelligence (a literacy growing out of what I believe to be + improper education) which was better able to discuss the problems of rural + life than to grapple with and solve them. A dull, illiterate Polish + farmer, I have found, will sometimes succeed much better at the job of + life than his American neighbour. + </p> + <p> + Talk with almost any man for half an hour, and you will find that his + conversation, like an old-fashioned song, has a regularly recurrent + chorus. I soon discovered Mr. Clark's chorus. + </p> + <p> + “Now, if only I had a little cash,” he sang, or, “If I had a few dollars, + I could do so and so.” + </p> + <p> + Why, he was as helplessly, dependent upon money as any soft-handed + millionairess. He considered himself poor and helpless because he lacked + dollars, whereas people are really poor and helpless only when they lack + courage and faith. + </p> + <p> + We were so much absorbed in our talk that I was greatly surprised to hear + Mrs. Clark's voice at the doorway. + </p> + <p> + “Won't you come in to supper?” + </p> + <p> + After we had eaten, there was a great demand for more of my tin whistle + (oh, I know how Caruso must feel!), and I played over every blessed tune I + knew, and some I didn't, four or five times, and after that we told + stories and cracked jokes in a way that must have been utterly astonishing + in that household. After the children had been, yes, driven to bed, Mr. + Clark seemed about to drop back into his lamentations over his condition + (which I have no doubt had come to give him a sort of pleasure), but I + turned to Mrs. Clark, whom I had come to respect very highly, and began to + talk about the little garden she had started, which was about the most + enterprising thing about the place. + </p> + <p> + “Isn't it one of the finest things in this world,” said I, “to go out into + a good garden in the summer days and bring in loaded baskets filled with + beets and cabbages and potatoes, just for the gathering?” + </p> + <p> + I knew from the expression on Mrs. Clark's face that I had touched a + sounding note. + </p> + <p> + “Opening the green corn a little at the top to see if it is ready and then + stripping it off and tearing away the moist white husks—” + </p> + <p> + “And picking tomatoes?” said Mrs. Clark. “And knuckling the watermelons to + see if they are ripe? Oh, I tell you there are thousands of people in this + country who'd like to be able to pick their dinner in the garden!” + </p> + <p> + “It's fine!” said Mrs. Clark with amused enthusiasm, “but I like best to + hear the hens cackling in the barnyard in the morning after they've laid, + and to go and bring in the eggs.” + </p> + <p> + “Just like a daily present!” I said. + </p> + <p> + “Ye-es,” responded the soundly practical Mrs. Clark, thinking, no doubt, + that there were other aspects of the garden and chicken problem. + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell you another thing I like about a farmer's life,” said I, + “that's the smell in the house in the summer when there are preserves, or + sweet pickles, or jam, or whatever it is, simmering on the stove. No + matter where you are, up in the garret or down cellar, it's cinnamon, and + allspice, and cloves, and every sort of sugary odour. Now, that gets me + where I live!” + </p> + <p> + “It IS good!” said Mrs. Clark with a laugh that could certainly be called + nothing if not girlish. + </p> + <p> + All this time I had been keeping one eye on Mr. Clark. It was amusing to + see him struggling against a cheerful view of life. He now broke into the + conversation. + </p> + <p> + “Well, but—” he began. + </p> + <p> + Instantly I headed him off. + </p> + <p> + “And think,” said I, “of living a life in which you are beholden to no + man. It's a free life, the farmer's life. No one can discharge you because + you are sick, or tired, or old, or because you are a Democrat or a + Baptist!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but—” + </p> + <p> + “And think of having to pay no rent, nor of having to live upstairs in a + tenement!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but—” + </p> + <p> + “Or getting run over by a street-car, or having the children play in the + gutters.” + </p> + <p> + “I never did like to think of what my children would do if we went to + town,” said Mrs. Clark. + </p> + <p> + “I guess not!” I exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + The fact is, most people don't think half enough of themselves and of + their jobs; but before we went to bed that night I had the forlorn T. N. + Clark talking about the virtues of his farm in quite a surprising way. + </p> + <p> + I even saw him eying me two or three times with a shrewd look in his eyes + (your American is an irrepressible trader) as though I might possibly be + some would-be purchaser in disguise. + </p> + <p> + (I shall write some time a dissertation on the advantages, of wearing + shabby clothing.) + </p> + <p> + The farm really had many good points. One of them was a shaggy old orchard + of good and thriving but utterly neglected apple-trees. + </p> + <p> + “Man alive,” I said, when we went out to see it in the morning, “you've + got a gold mine here!” And I told him how in our neighbourhood we were + renovating the old orchards, pruning them back, spraying, and bringing + them into bearing again. + </p> + <p> + He had never, since he owned the place, had a salable crop of fruit. When + we came in to breakfast I quite stirred the practical Mrs. Clark with my + enthusiasm, and she promised at once to send for a bulletin on apple-tree + renovation, published by the state experiment station. I am sure I was no + more earnest in my advice than the conditions warranted. + </p> + <p> + After breakfast we went into the field, and I suggested that instead of + ploughing any more land—for the season was already late—we get + out all the accumulations of rotted manure from around the barn and strew + it on the land already ploughed and harrow it in. + </p> + <p> + “A good job on a little piece of land,” I said, “is far more profitable + than a poor job on a big piece of land.” + </p> + <p> + Without more ado we got his old team hitched up and began loading, and + hauling out the manure, and spent all day long at it. Indeed, such was the + height of enthusiasm which T. N. Clark now reached (for his was a + temperament that must either soar in the clouds or grovel in the mire), + that he did not wish to stop when Mrs. Clark called us in to supper. In + that one day his crop of corn, in perspective, overflowed his crib, he + could not find boxes and barrels for his apples, his shed would not hold + all his tobacco, and his barn was already being enlarged to accommodate a + couple more cows! He was also keeping bees and growing ginseng. + </p> + <p> + But it was fine, that evening, to see Mrs. Clark's face, the renewed hope + and courage in it. I thought as I looked at her (for she was the strong + and steady one in that house): + </p> + <p> + “If you can keep the enthusiasm up, if you can make that husband of yours + grow corn, and cows, and apples as you raise chickens and make garden, + there is victory yet in this valley.” + </p> + <p> + That night it rained, but in spite of the moist earth we spent almost all + of the following day hard at work in the field, and all the time talking + over ways and means for the future, but the next morning, early, I swung + my bag on my back and left them. + </p> + <p> + I shall not attempt to describe the friendliness of our parting. Mrs. + Clark followed me wistfully to the gate. + </p> + <p> + “I can't tell you—” she began, with the tears starting in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Then don't try—” said I, smiling. + </p> + <p> + And so I swung off down the country road, without looking back. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. THE UNDISCOVERED COUNTRY + </h2> + <p> + In some strange deep way there is no experience of my whole pilgrimage + that I look back upon with so much wistful affection as I do upon the + events of the day—the day and the wonderful night—which + followed my long visit with the forlorn Clark family upon their hill farm. + At first I hesitated about including an account of it here because it + contains so little of what may be called thrilling or amusing incident. + </p> + <p> + “They want only the lively stories of my adventures,” I said to myself, + and I was at the point of pushing my notes to the edge of the table where + (had I let go) they would have fallen into the convenient oblivion of the + waste-basket. But something held me back. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said I, “I'll tell it; if it means so much to me, it may mean + something to the friends who are following these lines.” + </p> + <p> + For, after all, it is not what goes on outside of a man, the clash and + clatter of superficial events, that arouses our deepest interest, but what + goes on inside. Consider then that in this narrative I shall open a little + door in my heart and let you look in, if you care to, upon the experiences + of a day and a night in which I was supremely happy. + </p> + <p> + If you had chanced to be passing, that crisp spring morning, you would + have seen a traveller on foot with a gray bag on his shoulder, swinging + along the country road; and you might have been astonished to see him lift + his hat at you and wish you a good morning. You might have turned to look + back at him, as you passed, and found him turning also to look back at you—and + wishing he might know you. But you would not have known what he was + chanting under his breath as he tramped (how little we know of a man by + the shabby coat he wears), nor how keenly he was enjoying the light airs + and the warm sunshine of that fine spring morning. + </p> + <p> + After leaving the hill farm he had walked five miles up the valley, had + crossed the ridge at a place called the Little Notch, where all the world + lay stretched before him like the open palm of his hand, and had come thus + to the boundaries of the Undiscovered Country. He had been for days + troubled with the deep problems of other people, and it seemed to him this + morning as though a great stone had been rolled from the door of his + heart, and that he was entering upon a new world—a wonderful, high, + free world. And, as he tramped, certain lines of a stanza long ago caught + up in his memory from some forgotten page came up to his lips, and these + were the words (you did not know as you passed) that he was chanting under + his breath as he tramped, for they seem charged with the spirit of the + hour: + </p> + <p> + I've bartered my sheets for a starlit bed; I've traded my meat for a crust + of bread; I've changed my book for a sapling cane, And I'm off to the end + of the world again. + </p> + <p> + In the Undiscovered Country that morning it was wonderful how fresh the + spring woods were, and how the birds sang in the trees, and how the brook + sparkled and murmured at the roadside. The recent rain had washed the + atmosphere until it was as clear and sparkling and heady as new wine, and + the footing was firm and hard. As one tramped he could scarcely keep from + singing or shouting aloud for the very joy of the day. + </p> + <p> + “I think,” I said to myself, “I've never been in a better country,” and it + did not seem to me I cared to know where the gray road ran, nor how far + away the blue hills were. + </p> + <p> + “It is wonderful enough anywhere here,” I said. + </p> + <p> + And presently I turned from the road and climbed a gently sloping hillside + among oak and chestnut trees. The earth was well carpeted for my feet, and + here and there upon the hillside, where the sun came through the green + roof of foliage, were warm splashes Of yellow light, and here and there, + on shadier slopes, the new ferns were spread upon the earth like some lacy + coverlet. I finally sat down at the foot of a tree where through a rift in + the foliage in the valley below I could catch a glimpse in the distance of + the meadows and the misty blue hills. I was glad to rest, just rest, for + the two previous days of hard labour, the labour and the tramping, had + wearied me, and I sat for a long time quietly looking about me, scarcely + thinking at all, but seeing, hearing, smelling—feeling the spring + morning, and the woods and the hills, and the patch of sky I could see. + </p> + <p> + For a long, long time I sat thus, but finally my mind began to flow again, + and I thought how fine it would be if I had some good friend there with me + to enjoy the perfect surroundings—some friend who would understand. + And I thought of the Vedders with whom I had so recently spent a wonderful + day; and I wished that they might be with me; there were so many things to + be said—to be left unsaid. Upon this it occurred to me, suddenly, + whimsically, and I exclaimed aloud: + </p> + <p> + “Why, I'll just call them up.” + </p> + <p> + Half turning to the trunk of the tree where I sat, I placed one hand to my + ear and the other to my lips and said: + </p> + <p> + “Hello, Central, give me Mr. Vedder.” + </p> + <p> + I waited a moment, smiling a little at my own absurdity and yet quite + captivated by the enterprise. + </p> + <p> + “Is this Mr. Vedder? Oh, Mrs. Vedder! Well, this is David Grayson.”.... + </p> + <p> + “Yes, the very same. A bad penny, a rolling stone.”.... + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I want you both to come here as quickly as you can. I have the most + important news for you. The mountain laurels are blooming, and the wild + strawberries are setting their fruit. Yes, yes, and in the fields—all + around here, to-day there are wonderful white patches of daisies, and from + where I sit I can see an old meadow as yellow as gold with buttercups. And + the bobolinks are hovering over the low spots. Oh, but it is fine here—and + we are not together!”.... + </p> + <p> + “No; I cannot give exact directions. But take the Long Road and turn at + the turning by the tulip-tree, and you will find me at home. Come right in + without knocking.” + </p> + <p> + I hung up the receiver. For a single instant it had seemed almost true, + and indeed I believe—I wonder— + </p> + <p> + Some day, I thought, just a bit sadly, for I shall probably not be here + then—some day, we shall be able to call our friends through space + and time. Some day we shall discover that marvellously simple coherer by + which we may better utilize the mysterious ether of love. + </p> + <p> + For a time I was sad with thoughts of the unaccomplished future, and then + I reflected that if I could not call up the Vedders so informally I could + at least write down a few paragraphs which would give them some faint + impression of that time and place. But I had no sooner taken out my + note-book and put down a sentence or two than I stuck fast. How foolish + and feeble written words are anyway! With what glib facility they + describe, but how inadequately they convey. A thousand times I have + thought to myself, “If only I could WRITE!” + </p> + <p> + Not being able to write I turned, as I have so often turned before, to + some good old book, trusting that I might find in the writing of another + man what I lacked in my own. I took out my battered copy of Montaigne and, + opening it at random, as I love to do, came, as luck would have it, upon a + chapter devoted to coaches, in which there is much curious (and worthless) + information, darkened with Latin quotations. This reading had an + unexpected effect upon me. + </p> + <p> + I could not seem to keep my mind down upon the printed page; it kept + bounding away at the sight of the distant hills, at the sound of a + woodpecker on a dead stub which stood near me, and at the thousand and one + faint rustlings, creepings, murmurings, tappings, which animate the + mystery of the forest. How dull indeed appeared the printed page in + comparison with the book of life, how shut-in its atmosphere, how tinkling + and distant the sound of its voices. Suddenly I shut my book with a snap. + </p> + <p> + “Musty coaches and Latin quotations!” I exclaimed. “Montaigne's no writer + for the open air. He belongs at a study fire on a quiet evening!” + </p> + <p> + I had anticipated, when I started out, many a pleasant hour by the + roadside or in the woods with my books, but this was almost the first + opportunity I had found for reading (as it was almost the last), so full + was the present world of stirring events. As for poor old Montaigne, I + have been out of harmony with him ever since, nor have I wanted him in the + intimate case at my elbow. + </p> + <p> + After a long time in the forest, and the sun having reached the high + heavens, I gathered up my pack and set forth again along the slope of the + hills—not hurrying, just drifting and enjoying every sight and + sound. And thus walking I came in sight, through the trees, of a + glistening pool of water and made my way straight toward it. + </p> + <p> + A more charming spot I have rarely seen. In some former time an old mill + had stood at the foot of the little valley, and a ruinous stone dam still + held the water in a deep, quiet pond between two round hills. Above it a + brook ran down through the woods, and below, with a pleasant musical + sound, the water dripped over the mossy stone lips of the dam and fell + into the rocky pool below. Nature had long ago healed the wounds of men; + she had half-covered the ruined mill with verdure, had softened the stone + walls of the dam with mosses and lichens, and had crept down the steep + hillside and was now leaning so far out over the pool that she could see + her reflection in the quiet water. + </p> + <p> + Near the upper end of the pond I found a clear white sand-bank, where no + doubt a thousand fishermen had stood, half hidden by the willows, to cast + for trout in the pool below. I intended merely to drink and moisten my + face, but as I knelt by the pool and saw my reflection in the clear water + wanted something more than that! In a moment I had thrown aside my bag and + clothes and found myself wading naked into the water. + </p> + <p> + It was cold! I stood a moment there in the sunny air, the great world open + around me, shuddering, for I dreaded the plunge—and then with a run, + a shout and a splash I took the deep water. Oh, but it was fine! With + long, deep strokes I carried myself fairly to the middle of the pond. The + first chill was succeeded by a tingling glow, and I can convey no idea + whatever of the glorious sense of exhilaration I had. I swam with the + broad front stroke, I swam on my side, head half submerged, with a deep + under stroke, and I rolled over on my back and swam with the water lapping + my chin. Thus I came to the end of the pool near the old dam, touched my + feet on the bottom, gave a primeval whoop, and dove back into the water + again. I have rarely experienced keener physical joy. After swimming thus + boisterously for a time, I quieted down to long, leisurely strokes, + conscious of the water playing across my shoulders and singing at my ears, + and finally, reaching the centre of the pond, I turned over on my back + and, paddling lazily, watched the slow procession of light clouds across + the sunlit openings of the trees above me. Away up in the sky I could see + a hawk slowly swimming about (in his element as I was in mine), and nearer + at hand, indeed fairly in the thicket about the pond, I could hear a + wood-thrush singing. + </p> + <p> + And so, shaking the water out of my hair and swimming with long and + leisurely strokes, I returned to the sand-bank, and there, standing in a + spot of warm sunshine, I dried myself with the towel from my bag. And I + said to myself: + </p> + <p> + “Surely it is good to be alive at a time like this!” + </p> + <p> + Slowly I drew on my clothes, idling there in the sand, and afterward I + found an inviting spot in an old meadow where I threw myself down on the + grass under an apple-tree and looked up into the shadowy places in the + foliage above me. I felt a delicious sense of physical well-being, and I + was pleasantly tired. + </p> + <p> + So I lay there—and the next thing I knew, I turned over, feeling + cold and stiff, and opened my eyes upon the dusky shadows of late evening. + I had been sleeping for hours! + </p> + <p> + The next few minutes (or was it an hour or eternity?), I recall as + containing some of the most exciting and, when all is said, amusing + incidents in my whole life. And I got quite a new glimpse of that + sometimes bumptious person known as David Grayson. + </p> + <p> + The first sensation I had was one of complete panic. What was I to do? + Where was I to go? + </p> + <p> + Hastily seizing my bag—and before I was half awake—I started + rapidly across the meadow, in my excitement tripping and falling several + times in the first hundred yards. In daylight I have no doubt that I + should easily have seen a gateway or at least an opening from the old + meadow, but in the fast-gathering darkness it seemed to me that the open + field was surrounded on every side by impenetrable forests. Absurd as it + may seem, for no one knows what his mind will do at such a moment, I + recalled vividly a passage from Stanley's story of his search for + Livingstone, in which he relates how he escaped from a difficult place in + the jungle by KEEPING STRAIGHT AHEAD. + </p> + <p> + I print these words in capitals because they seemed written that night + upon the sky. KEEPING STRAIGHT AHEAD, I entered the forest on one side of + the meadow (with quite a heroic sense of adventure), but scraped my shin + on a fallen log and ran into a tree with bark on it that felt like a + gigantic currycomb—and stopped! + </p> + <p> + Up to this point I think I was still partly asleep. Now, however, I waked + up. + </p> + <p> + “All you need,” said I to myself in my most matter-of-fact tone, “is a + little cool sense. Be quiet now and reason it out.” + </p> + <p> + So I stood there for some moments reasoning it out, with the result that I + turned back and found the meadow again. + </p> + <p> + “What a fool I've been!” I said. “Isn't it perfectly plain that I should + have gone down to the pond, crossed over the inlet, and reached the road + by the way I came?” + </p> + <p> + Having thus settled my problem, and congratulating myself on my + perspicacity, I started straight for the mill-pond, but to my utter + amazement, in the few short hours while I had been asleep, that entire + body of water had evaporated, the dam had disappeared, and the stream had + dried up. I must certainly present the facts in this remarkable case to + some learned society. + </p> + <p> + I then decided to return to the old apple-tree where I had slept, which + now seemed quite like home, but, strange to relate, the apple-tree had + also completely vanished from the enchanted meadow. At that I began to + suspect that in coming out of the forest I had somehow got into another + and somewhat similar old field. I have never had a more confused or eerie + sensation; not fear, but a sort of helplessness in which for an instant I + actually began to doubt whether it was I myself, David Grayson, who stood + there in the dark meadow, or whether I was the victim of a peculiarly bad + dream. I suppose many other people have had these sensations under similar + conditions, but they were new to me. + </p> + <p> + I turned slowly around and looked for a light; I think I never wanted so + much to see some sign of human habitation as I did at that moment. + </p> + <p> + What a coddled world we live in, truly. That being out after dark in a + meadow should so disturb the very centre of our being! In all my life, + indeed, and I suppose the same is true of ninety-nine out of a hundred of + the people in America to-day, I had never before found myself where + nothing stood between nature and me, where I had no place to sleep, no + shelter for the night—nor any prospect of finding one. I was + infinitely less resourceful at that moment than a rabbit, or a partridge, + or a gray squirrel. + </p> + <p> + Presently I sat down on the ground where I had been standing, with a vague + fear (absurd to look back upon) that it, too, in some manner might slip + away from under me. And as I sat there I began to have familiar gnawings + at the pit of my stomach, and I remembered that, save for a couple of Mrs. + Clark's doughnuts eaten while I was sitting on the hillside, ages ago, I + had had nothing since my early breakfast. + </p> + <p> + With this thought of my predicament—and the glimpse I had of myself + “hungry and homeless”—the humour of the whole situation suddenly + came over me, and, beginning with a chuckle, I wound up, as my mind dwelt + upon my recent adventures, with a long, loud, hearty laugh. + </p> + <p> + As I laughed—and what a roar it made in that darkness!—I got + up on my feet and looked up at the sky. One bright star shone out over the + woods, and in high heavens I could see dimly the white path of the Milky + Way. And all at once I seemed again to be in command of myself and of the + world. I felt a sudden lift and thrill of the spirits, a warm sense that + this too was part of the great adventure—the Thing Itself. + </p> + <p> + “This is the light,” I said looking up again at the sky and the single + bright star, “which is set for me to-night. I will make my bed by it.” + </p> + <p> + I can hope to make no one understand (unless he understands already) with + what joy of adventure I now crept through the meadow toward the wood. It + was an unknown, unexplored world I was in, and I, the fortunate + discoverer, had here to shift for himself, make his home under the stars! + Marquette on the wild shores of the Mississippi, or Stanley in Africa, had + no joy that I did not know at that moment. + </p> + <p> + I crept along the meadow and came at last to the wood. Here I chose a + somewhat sheltered spot at the foot of a large tree—and yet a spot + not so obscured that I could not look out over the open spaces of the + meadow and see the sky. Here, groping in the darkness, like some primitive + creature, I raked together a pile of leaves with my fingers, and found + dead twigs and branches of trees; but in that moist forest (where the rain + had fallen only the day before) my efforts to kindle a fire were + unavailing. Upon this, I considered using some pages from my notebook, but + another alternative suggested itself: + </p> + <p> + “Why not Montaigne?” + </p> + <p> + With that I groped for the familiar volume, and with a curious sensation + of satisfaction I tore out a handful of pages from the back. + </p> + <p> + “Better Montaigne than Grayson,” I said, with a chuckle. It was amazing + how Montaigne sparkled and crackled when he was well lighted. + </p> + <p> + “There goes a bundle of quotations from Vergil,” I said, “and there's his + observations on the eating of fish. There are more uses than one for the + classics.” + </p> + <p> + So I ripped out a good part of another chapter, and thus, by coaxing, got + my fire to going. It was not difficult after that to find enough fuel to + make it blaze up warmly. + </p> + <p> + I opened my bag and took out the remnants of the luncheon which Mrs. Clark + had given me that morning; and I was surprised and delighted to find, + among the other things, a small bottle of coffee. This suggested all sorts + of pleasing possibilities and, the spirit of invention being now awakened, + I got out my tin cup, split a sapling stick so I could fit it into the + handle, and set the cup, full of coffee, on the coals at the edge of the + fire. It was soon heated, and although I spilled some of it in getting it + off, and although it was well spiced with ashes, I enjoyed it, with Mrs. + Clark's doughnuts and sandwiches (some of which I toasted with a sapling + fork) as thoroughly, I think, as ever I enjoyed any meal. + </p> + <p> + How little we know—we who dread life—how much there is in + life! + </p> + <p> + My activities around the fire had warmed me to the bone, and after I was + well through with my meal I gathered a plentiful supply of wood and placed + it near at hand, I got out my waterproof cape and put it on, and, finally + piling more sticks on the fire, I sat down comfortably at the foot of the + tree. + </p> + <p> + I wish I could convey the mystery and the beauty of that night. Did you + ever sit by a campfire and watch the flames dance, and the sparks fly + upward into the cool dark air? Did you ever see the fitful light among the + tree-depths, at one moment opening vast shadowy vistas into the forest, at + the next dying downward and leaving it all in sombre mystery? It came to + me that night with the wonderful vividness of a fresh experience. + </p> + <p> + And what a friendly and companionable thing a campfire is! How generous + and outright it is! It plays for you when you wish so be lively, and it + glows for you when you wish to be reflective. + </p> + <p> + After a while, for I did not feel in the least sleepy, I stepped out of + the woods to the edge of the pasture. All around me lay the dark and + silent earth, and above the blue bowl of the sky, all glorious with the + blaze of a million worlds. Sometimes I have been oppressed by this + spectacle of utter space, of infinite distance, of forces too great for me + to grasp or understand, but that night it came upon me with fresh wonder + and power, and with a sense of great humility that I belonged here too, + that I was a part of it all—and would not be neglected or forgotten. + It seemed to me I never had a moment of greater faith than that. + </p> + <p> + And so, with a sense of satisfaction and peace, I returned to my fire. As + I sat there I could hear the curious noises of the woods, the little + droppings, cracklings, rustlings which seemed to make all the world alive. + I even fancied I could see small bright eyes looking out at my fire, and + once or twice I was almost sure I heard voices—whispering—, + perhaps the voices of the woods. + </p> + <p> + Occasionally I added, with some amusement, a few dry pages of Montaigne to + the fire, and watched the cheerful blaze that followed. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said I, “Montaigne is not for the open spaces and the stars. Without + a roof over his head Montaigne would—well, die of sneezing.” + </p> + <p> + So I sat all night long there by the tree. Occasionally I dropped into a + light sleep, and then, as my fire died down, I grew chilly and awakened, + to build up the fire and doze again. I saw the first faint gray streaks of + dawn above the trees, I saw the pink glow in the east before the sunrise, + and I watched the sun himself rise upon a new day— + </p> + <p> + When I walked out into the meadow by daylight and looked about me + curiously, I saw, not forty rods away, the back of a barn. + </p> + <p> + “Be you the fellow that was daown in my cowpasture all night?” asked the + sturdy farmer. + </p> + <p> + “I'm that fellow,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “Why didn't you come right up to the house?” + </p> + <p> + “Well—” I said, and then paused. + </p> + <p> + “Well...” said I. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. THE HEDGE + </h2> + <h3> + Strange, strange, how small the big world is! + </h3> + <p> + “Why didn't you come right into the house?” the sturdy farmer had asked me + when I came out of the meadow where I had spent the night under the stars. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” I said, turning the question as adroitly as I could, “I'll make it + up by going into the house now.” + </p> + <p> + So I went with him into his fine, comfortable house. + </p> + <p> + “This is my wife,” said he. + </p> + <p> + A woman stood there facing me. “Oh!” she exclaimed, “Mr. Grayson!” + </p> + <p> + I recalled swiftly a child—a child she seemed then—with braids + down her back, whom I had known when I first came to my farm. She had + grown up, married, and had borne three children, while I had been looking + the other way for a minute or two. She had not been in our neighborhood + for several years. + </p> + <p> + “And how is your sister and Doctor McAlway?” + </p> + <p> + Well, we had quite a wonderful visit, she made breakfast for me, asking + and talking eagerly as I ate. + </p> + <p> + “We've just had news that old Mr. Toombs is dead.” + </p> + <p> + “Dead!” I exclaimed, dropping my fork; “old Nathan Toombs!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he was my uncle. Did you know him?” + </p> + <p> + “I knew Nathan Toombs,” I said. + </p> + <p> + I spent two days there with the Ransomes, for they would not hear of my + leaving, and half of our spare time, I think, was spent in discussing + Nathan Toombs. I was not able to get him out of my mind for days, for his + death was one of those events which prove so much and leave so much + unproven. + </p> + <p> + I can recall vividly my astonishment at the first evidence I ever had of + the strange old man or of his work. It was not very long after I came to + my farm to live. I had taken to spending my spare evenings—the long + evenings of summer—in exploring the country roads for miles around, + getting acquainted with each farmstead, each bit of grove and meadow and + marsh, making my best bow to each unfamiliar hill, and taking everywhere + that toll of pleasure which comes of quiet discovery. + </p> + <p> + One evening, having walked farther than usual, I came quite suddenly + around a turn in the road and saw stretching away before me an + extraordinary sight. + </p> + <p> + I feel that I am conveying no adequate impression of what I beheld by + giving it any such prim and decorous name as—a Hedge. It was a + menagerie, a living, green menagerie! I had no sooner seen it than I began + puzzling my brain as to whether one of the curious ornaments into which + the upper part of the hedge had been clipped and trimmed was made to + represent the head of a horse, or a camel, or an Egyptian sphinx. + </p> + <p> + The hedge was of arbor vitae and as high as a man's waist. At more or less + regular intervals the trees in it had been allowed to grow much taller and + had been wonderfully pruned into the similitude of towers, pinnacles, + bells, and many other strange designs. Here and there the hedge held up a + spindling umbrella of greenery, sometimes a double umbrella—a little + one above the big one—and over the gateway at the centre; as a sort + of final triumph, rose a grandiose arch of interlaced branches upon which + the artist had outdone himself in marvels of ornamentation. + </p> + <p> + I shall never forget the sensation of delight I had over this discovery, + or of how I walked, tiptoe, along the road in front, studying each of the + marvellous adornments. How eagerly, too, I looked over at the house beyond—a + rather bare, bleak house set on a slight knoll or elevation and guarded at + one corner by a dark spruce tree. At some distance behind I saw a number + of huge barns, a cattle yard and a silo—all the evidences of + prosperity—with well-nurtured fields, now yellowing with the summer + crops, spreading pleasantly away on every hand. + </p> + <p> + It was nearly dark before I left that bit of roadside, and I shall never + forget the eerie impression I had as I turned back to take a final look at + the hedge, the strange, grotesque aspect it presented there in the half + light with the bare, lonely house rising from the knoll behind. + </p> + <p> + It was not until some weeks later that I met the owner of the wonderful + hedge. By that time, however, having learned of my interest, I found the + whole countryside alive with stories about it and about Old Nathan Toombs, + its owner. It was as though I had struck the rock of refreshment in a + weary land. + </p> + <p> + I remember distinctly how puzzled was by the stories I heard. The + neighbourhood portrait—and ours is really a friendly neighbourhood—was + by no means flattering. Old Toombs was apparently of that type of + hard-shelled, grasping, self-reliant, old-fashioned farmer not unfamiliar + to many country neighbourhoods. He had come of tough old American stock + and he was a worker, a saver, and thus he had grown rich, the richest + farmer in the whole neighbourhood. He was a regular individualistic + American. + </p> + <p> + “A dour man,” said the Scotch Preacher, “but just—you must admit + that he is just.” + </p> + <p> + There was no man living about whom the Scotch Preacher could not find + something good to say. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, just,” replied Horace, “but hard—hard, and as mean as pusley.” + </p> + <p> + This portrait was true enough in itself, for I knew just the sort of an + aggressive, undoubtedly irritable old fellow it pictured, but somehow, try + as I would, I could not see any such old fellow wasting his moneyed hours + clipping bells, umbrellas, and camel's heads on his ornamental greenery. + It left just that incongruity which is at once the lure, the humour, and + the perplexity of human life. Instead of satisfying my curiosity I was + more anxious than ever to see Old Toombs with my own eyes. + </p> + <p> + But the weeks passed and somehow I did not meet him. He was a lonely, + unneighbourly old fellow. He had apparently come to fit into the community + without ever really becoming a part of it. His neighbours accepted him as + they accepted a hard hill in the town road. From time to time he would + foreclose a mortgage where he had loaned money to some less thrifty + farmer, or he would extend his acres by purchase, hard cash down, or he + would build a bigger barn. When any of these things happened the community + would crowd over a little, as it were, to give him more room. It is a + curious thing, and tragic, too, when you come to think of it, how the + world lets alone those people who appear to want to be let alone. “I can + live to myself,” says the unneighbourly one. “Well, live to yourself, + then,” cheerfully responds the world, and it goes about its more or less + amusing affairs and lets the unneighbourly one cut himself off. + </p> + <p> + So our small community had let Old Toombs go his way with all his money, + his acres, his hedge, and his reputation for being a just man. + </p> + <p> + Not meeting him, therefore, in the familiar and friendly life of the + neighbourhood, I took to walking out toward his farm, looking freshly at + the wonderful hedge and musing upon that most fascinating of all subjects—how + men come to be what they are. And at last I was rewarded. + </p> + <p> + One day I had scarcely reached the end of the hedge when I saw Old Toombs + himself, moving toward me down the country road. Though I had never seen + him before, I was at no loss to identify him. The first and vital + impression he gave me, if I can compress it into a single word, was, I + think, force—force. He came stubbing down the country road with a + brown hickory stick in his hand which at every step he set vigorously into + the soft earth. Though not tall, he gave the impression of being + enormously strong. He was thick, solid, firm—thick through the body, + thick through the thighs; and his shoulders—what shoulders they + were!—round like a maple log; and his great head with its thatching + of coarse iron-gray hair, though thrust slightly forward, seemed set + immovably upon them. + </p> + <p> + He presented such a forbidding appearance that I was of two minds about + addressing him. Dour he was indeed! Nor shall I ever forget how he looked + when I spoke to him. He stopped short there in the road. On his big square + nose he wore a pair of curious spring-bowed glasses with black rims. For a + moment he looked at me through these glasses, raising his chin a little, + and then, deliberately wrinkling his nose, they fell off and dangled at + the length of the faded cord by which they were hung. There was something + almost uncanny about this peculiar habit of his and of the way in which, + afterward, he looked at me from under his bushy gray brows. This was in + truth the very man of the neighbourhood portrait. + </p> + <p> + “I am a new settler here,” I said, “and I've been interested in looking at + your wonderful hedge.” + </p> + <p> + The old man's eyes rested upon me a moment with a mingled look of + suspicion and hostility. + </p> + <p> + “So you've heard o' me,” he said in a high-pitched voice, “and you've + heard o' my hedge.” + </p> + <p> + Again he paused and looked me over. “Well,” he said, with an indescribably + harsh, cackling laugh, “I warrant you've heard nothing good o' me down + there. I'm a skinflint, ain't I? I'm a hard citizen, ain't I? I grind the + faces o' the poor, don't I?” + </p> + <p> + At first his words were marked by a sort of bitter humour, but as he + continued to speak his voice rose higher and higher until it was + positively menacing. + </p> + <p> + There were just two things I could do—haul down the flag and retreat + ingloriously, or face the music. With a sudden sense of rising spirits—for + such things do not often happen to a man in a quiet country road—I + paused a moment, looking him square in the eye. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” I said, with great deliberation, “you've given me just about the + neighborhood picture of yourself as I have had it. They do say you are a + skinflint, yes, and a hard man. They say that you are rich and friendless; + they say that while you are a just man, you do not know mercy. These are + terrible things to say of any man if they are true.” + </p> + <p> + I paused. The old man looked for a moment as though he were going to + strike me with his stick, but he neither stirred nor spoke. It was + evidently a wholly new experience for him. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” I said, “you are not popular in this community, but what do you + suppose I care about that? I'm interested in your hedge. What I'm curious + to know—and I might as well tell you frankly—is how such a man + as you are reputed to be could grow such an extraordinary hedge. You must + have been at it a very long time.” + </p> + <p> + I was surprised at the effect of my words. The old man turned partly aside + and looked for a moment along the proud and flaunting embattlements of the + green marvel before us. Then he said in a moderate voice: + </p> + <p> + “It's a putty good hedge, a putty good hedge.” + </p> + <p> + “I've got him,” I thought exultantly, “I've got him!” + </p> + <p> + “How long ago did you start it?” I pursued my advantage eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “Thirty-two years come spring,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “Thirty-two years!” I repeated; “you've been at it a long time.” + </p> + <p> + With that I plied him with questions in the liveliest manner, and in five + minutes I had the gruff old fellow stumping along at my side and pointing + out the various notable-features of his wonderful creation. His suppressed + excitement was quite wonderful to see. He would point his hickory stick + with a poking motion, and, when he looked up, instead of throwing back his + big, rough head, he bent at the hips, thus imparting an impression of + astonishing solidity. + </p> + <p> + “It took me all o' ten years to get that bell right,” he said, and, “Take + a look at that arch: now what is your opinion o' that?” + </p> + <p> + Once, in the midst of our conversation, he checked himself abruptly and + looked around at me with a sudden dark expression of suspicion. I saw + exactly what lay in his mind, but I continued my questioning as though I + perceived no change in him. It was only momentary, however, and he was + soon as much interested as before. He talked as though he had not had such + an opportunity before in years—and I doubt whether he had. It was + plain to see that if any one ever loved anything in this world, Old Toombs + loved that hedge of his. Think of it, indeed! He had lived with it, + nurtured it, clipped it, groomed it—for thirty-two years. + </p> + <p> + So we walked down the sloping field within the hedge, and it seemed as + though one of the deep mysteries of human nature was opening there before + me. What strange things men set their hearts upon! + </p> + <p> + Thus, presently, we came nearly to the farther end of the hedge. Here the + old man stopped and turned around, facing me. + </p> + <p> + “Do you see that valley?” he asked. “Do you see that slopin' valley up + through the meadow?” + </p> + <p> + His voice rose suddenly to a sort of high-pitched violence. + </p> + <p> + “That' passel o' hounds up there,” he said, “want to build a road down my + valley.” + </p> + <p> + He drew his breath fiercely. + </p> + <p> + “They want to build a road through my land. They want to ruin my farm—they + want to cut down my hedge. I'll fight 'em. I'll fight 'em. I'll show 'em + yet!” + </p> + <p> + It was appalling. His face grew purple, his eyes narrowed to pin points + and grew red and angry—like the eyes of an infuriated boar. His + hands shook. Suddenly he turned upon me, poising his stick in his hand, + and said violently. + </p> + <p> + “And who are you? Who are you? Are you one of these surveyor fellows?” + </p> + <p> + “My name,” I answered as quietly as I could, “is Grayson. I live on the + old Mather farm. I am not in the least interested in any of your road + troubles.” + </p> + <p> + He looked at me a moment more, and then seemed to shake himself or + shudder, his eyes dropped away and he began walking toward his house. He + had taken only a few steps, however, before he turned, and, without + looking at me, asked if I would like to see the tools he used for trimming + his hedge. When I hesitated, for I was decidedly uncomfortable, he came up + to me and laid his hand awkwardly on my arm. + </p> + <p> + “You'll see something, I warrant, you never see before.” + </p> + <p> + It was so evident that he regretted his outbreak that I followed him, and + he showed me an odd double ladder set on low wheels which he said he used + in trimming the higher parts of his hedge. + </p> + <p> + “It's my own invention,” he said with pride. + </p> + <p> + “And that”—he pointed as we came out of the tool shed—“is my + house—a good house. I planned it all myself. I never needed to take + lessons of any carpenter I ever see. And there's my barns. What do you + think o' my barns? Ever see any bigger ones? They ain't any bigger in this + country than Old Toombs's barns. They don't like Old Toombs, but they + ain't any of one of 'em can ekal his barns!” + </p> + <p> + He followed me down to the roadside now quite loquacious. Even after I had + thanked him and started to go he called after me. + </p> + <p> + When I stopped he came forward hesitatingly—and I had the + impressions, suddenly, and for the first time that he was an old man. It + may have been the result of his sudden fierce explosion of anger, but his + hand shook, his face was pale, and he seemed somehow broken. + </p> + <p> + “You—you like my hedge?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “It is certainly wonderful hedge,” I said. “I never have seen anything + like it?” + </p> + <p> + “The' AIN'T nothing like it,” he responded, quickly. “The' ain't nothing + like it anywhere.” + </p> + <p> + In the twilight as I passed onward I saw the lonely figure of the old man + moving with his hickory stick up the pathway to his lonely house. The poor + rich old man! + </p> + <p> + “He thinks he can live wholly to himself,” I said aloud. + </p> + <p> + I thought, as I tramped homeward, of our friendly and kindly community, of + how we often come together of an evening with skylarking and laughter, of + how we weep with one another, of how we join in making better roads and + better schools, and building up the Scotch Preacher's friendly little + church. And in all these things Old Toombs has never had a part. He is not + even missed. + </p> + <p> + As a matter of fact, I reflected, and this is a strange, deep thing, no + man is in reality more dependent upon the community which he despises and + holds at arm's length than this same Old Nathan Toombs. Everything he has, + everything he does, gives evidence of it. And I don't mean this in any + mere material sense, though of course his wealth and his farm would mean + no more than the stones in his hills to him if he did not have us here + around him. Without our work, our buying, our selling, our governing, his + dollars would be dust. But we are still more necessary to him in other + ways: the unfriendly man is usually the one who demands most from his + neighbours. Thus, if he have not people's love or confidence, then he will + smite them until they fear him, or admire him, or hate him. Oh, no man, + however may try, can hold himself aloof! + </p> + <p> + I came home deeply stirred from my visit with Old Toombs and lost no time + in making further inquiries. I learned, speedily, that there was indeed + something in the old man's dread of a road being built through his farm. + The case was already in the courts. His farm was a very old one and + extensive, and of recent years a large settlement of small farmers had + been developing the rougher lands in the upper part of the townships + called the Swan Hill district. Their only way to reach the railroad was by + a rocky, winding road among the 'hills,' while their outlet was down a + gently sloping valley through Old Toombs's farm. They were now so numerous + and politically important that they had stirred up the town authorities. A + proposition had been made to Old Toombs for a right-of-way; they argued + with him that it was a good thing for the whole country, that it would + enhance the values of his own upper lands, and that they would pay him far + more for a right-of-way than the land was actually worth, but he had + spurned them—I can imagine with what vehemence. + </p> + <p> + “Let 'em drive round,” he said. “Didn't they know what they'd have to do + when they settled up there? What a passel o' curs! They can keep off o' my + land, or I'll have the law on 'em.” + </p> + <p> + And thus the matter came to the courts with the town attempting to condemn + the land for a road through Old Toombs's farm. + </p> + <p> + “What can we do?” asked the Scotch Preacher, who was deeply distressed by + the bitterness of feeling displayed. “There is no getting to the man. He + will listen to no one.” + </p> + <p> + At one time I thought of going over and talking with Old Toombs myself, + for it seemed that I had been able to get nearer to him than any one had + in a long time. But I dreaded it. I kept dallying—for what, indeed, + could I have said to him? If he had been suspicious of me before, how much + more hostile he might be when I expressed an interest in his difficulties. + As to reaching the Swan Hill settlers, they were now aroused to an + implacable state of bitterness; and they had the people of the whole + community with them, for no one liked Old Toombs. + </p> + <p> + Thus while I hesitated time passed and my next meeting with Old Toombs, + instead of being premeditated, came about quite unexpectedly. I was + walking in the town road late one afternoon when I heard a wagon rattling + behind me, and then, quite suddenly, a shouted, “Whoa.” + </p> + <p> + Looking around, I saw Old Toombs, his great solid figure mounted high on + the wagon seat, the reins held fast in the fingers of one hand. I was + struck by the strange expression in his face—a sort of grim + exaltation. As I stepped aside he burst out in a loud, shrill, cackling + laugh: + </p> + <p> + “He-he-he—he-he-he—” + </p> + <p> + I was too astonished to speak at once. Ordinarily when I meet any one in + the town road it is in my heart to cry out to him, + </p> + <p> + “Good morning, friend,” or, “How are you, brother?” but I had no such + prompting that day. + </p> + <p> + “Git in, Grayson,” he said; “git in, git in.” + </p> + <p> + I climbed up beside him, and he slapped me on the knee with another burst + of shrill laughter. + </p> + <p> + “They thought they had the old man,” he said, starting up his horses. + “They thought there weren't no law left in Israel. I showed 'em.” + </p> + <p> + I cannot convey the bitter triumphancy of his voice. + </p> + <p> + “You mean the road case?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “Road case!” he exploded, “they wan't no road case; they didn't have no + road case. I beat 'em. I says to 'em, 'What right hev any o' you on my + property? Go round with you,' I says. Oh, I beat 'em. If they'd had their + way, they'd 'a' cut through my hedge—the hounds!” + </p> + <p> + When he set me down at my door, I had said hardly a word. There seemed + nothing that could be said. I remember I stood for some time watching the + old man as he rode away, his wagon jolting in the country road, his stout + figure perched firmly in the seat. I went in with a sense of heaviness at + the heart. + </p> + <p> + “Harriet,” I said, “there are some things in this world beyond human + remedy.” + </p> + <p> + Two evenings later I was surprised to see the Scotch Preacher drive up to + my gate and hastily tie his horse. + </p> + <p> + “David,” said he, “there's bad business afoot. A lot of the young fellows + in Swan Hill are planning a raid on Old Toombs's hedge. They are coming + down to-night.” + </p> + <p> + I got my hat and jumped in with him. We drove up the hilly road and out + around Old Toombs's farm and thus came, near to the settlement. I had no + conception of the bitterness that the lawsuit had engendered. + </p> + <p> + “Where once you start men hating one another,” said the Scotch Preacher, + “there's utterly no end of it.” + </p> + <p> + I have seen our Scotch Preacher in many difficult places, but never have I + seen him rise to greater heights than he did that night. It is not in his + preaching that Doctor McAlway excels, but what a power he is among men! He + was like some stern old giant, standing there and holding up the portals + of civilization. I saw men melt under his words like wax; I saw wild young + fellows subdued into quietude; I saw unwise old men set to thinking. + </p> + <p> + “Man, man,” he'd say, lapsing in his earnestness into the broad Scotch + accent of his youth, “you canna' mean plunder, and destruction, and riot! + You canna! Not in this neighbourhood!” + </p> + <p> + “What about Old Toombs?” shouted one of the boys. + </p> + <p> + I never shall forget how Doctor McAlway drew himself up nor the majesty + that looked from his eye. + </p> + <p> + “Old Toombs!” he said in a voice that thrilled one to the bone, “Old + Toombs! Have you no faith, that you stand in the place of Almighty God and + measure punishments?” + </p> + <p> + Before we left it was past midnight and we drove home, almost silent, in + the darkness. + </p> + <p> + “Doctor McAlway,” I said, “if Old Toombs could know the history of this + night it might change his point of view.” + </p> + <p> + “I doot it,” said the Scotch Preacher. “I doot it.” + </p> + <p> + The night passed serenely; the morning saw Old Toombs's hedge standing as + gorgeous as ever. The community had again stepped aside and let Old Toombs + have his way: they had let him alone, with all his great barns, his wide + acres and his wonderful hedge. He probably never even knew what had + threatened him that night, nor how the forces of religion, of social + order, of neighbourliness in the community which he despised had, after + all, held him safe. There is a supreme faith among common people—it + is, indeed, the very taproot of democracy—that although the + unfriendly one may persist long in his power and arrogance, there is a + moving Force which commands events. + </p> + <p> + I suppose if I were writing a mere story I should tell how Old Toombs was + miraculously softened at the age of sixty-eight years, and came into new + relationships with his neighbours, or else I should relate how the mills + of God, grinding slowly, had crushed the recalcitrant human atom into + dust. + </p> + <p> + Either of these results conceivably might have happened—all things + are possible—and being ingeniously related would somehow have + answered a need in the human soul that the logic of events be constantly + and conclusively demonstrated in the lives of individual men and women. + </p> + <p> + But as a matter of fact, neither of these things did happen in this quiet + community of ours. There exists, assuredly, a logic of events, oh, a + terrible, irresistible logic of events, but it is careless of the span of + any one man's life. We would like to have each man enjoy the sweets of his + own virtues and suffer the lash of his own misdeeds—but it rarely so + happens in life. No, it is the community which lives or dies, is + regenerated or marred by the deeds of men. + </p> + <p> + So Old Toombs continued to live. So he continued to buy more land, raise + more cattle, collect more interest, and the wonderful hedge continued to + flaunt its marvels still more notably upon the country road. To what end? + Who knows? Who knows? + </p> + <p> + I saw him afterward from time to time, tried to maintain some sort of + friendly relations with him; but it seemed as the years passed that he + grew ever lonelier and more bitter, and not only more friendless, but + seemingly more incapable of friendliness. In times past I have seen what + men call tragedies—I saw once a perfect young man die in his + strength—but it seems to me I never knew anything more tragic than + the life and death of Old Toombs. If it cannot be said of a man when he + dies that either his nation, his state, his neighborhood, his family, or + at least his wife or child, is better for his having lived, what CAN be + said for him? + </p> + <p> + Old Toombs is dead. Like Jehoram, King of Judah, of whom it is terribly + said in the Book of Chronicles, “he departed without being desired.” + </p> + <p> + Of this story of Nathan Toombs we talked much and long there in the + Ransome home. I was with them, as I said, about two days—kept inside + most of the time by a driving spring rain which filled the valley with a + pale gray mist and turned all the country roads into running streams. One + morning, the weather having cleared, I swung my bag to my shoulder, and + with much warmth of parting I set my face again to the free road and the + open country. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. THE MAN POSSESSED + </h2> + <p> + I suppose I was predestined (and likewise foreordained) to reach the city + sooner or later. My fate in that respect was settled for me when I placed + my trust in the vagrant road. I thought for a time that I was more than a + match for the Road, but I soon learned that the Road was more than a match + for me. Sly? There's no name for it. Alluring, lovable, mysterious—as + the heart of a woman. Many a time I followed the Road where it led through + innocent meadows or climbed leisurely hill slopes only to find that it had + crept around slyly and led me before I knew it into the back door of some + busy town. + </p> + <p> + Mostly in this country the towns squat low in the valleys, they lie in + wait by the rivers, and often I scarcely know of their presence until I am + so close upon them that I can smell the breath of their heated nostrils + and hear their low growlings and grumblings. + </p> + <p> + My fear of these lesser towns has never been profound. I have even been + bold enough, when I came across one of them, to hasten straight through as + though assured that Cerberus was securely chained; but I found, after a + time, what I might indeed have guessed, that the Road, also led + irresistibly to the lair of the Old Monster himself, the He-one of the + species, where he lies upon the plain, lolling under his soiled gray + blanket of smoke. + </p> + <p> + It is wonderful to be safe at home again, to watch the tender, reddish + brown shoots of the Virginia creeper reaching in at my study window, to + see the green of my own quiet fields, to hear the peaceful clucking of the + hens in the sunny dooryard—and Harriet humming at her work in the + kitchen. + </p> + <p> + When I left the Ransomes that fine spring morning, I had not the slightest + presentiment of what the world held in store for me. After being a + prisoner of the weather for so long, I took to the Road with fresh joy. + All the fields were of a misty greenness and there were pools still + shining in the road, but the air was deliciously clear, clean, and soft. I + came through the hill country for three or four miles, even running down + some of the steeper places for the very joy the motion gave me, the feel + of the air on my face. + </p> + <p> + Thus I came finally to the Great Road, and stood for a moment looking + first this way, then that. + </p> + <p> + “Where now?” I asked aloud. + </p> + <p> + With an amusing sense of the possibilities that lay open before me, I + closed my eyes, turned slowly around several times and then stopped. When + I opened my eyes I was facing nearly southward: and that way I set out, + not knowing in the least what Fortune had presided at that turning. If I + had gone the other way— + </p> + <p> + I walked vigorously for two or three hours, meeting or passing many people + upon the busy road. Automobiles there were in plenty, and loaded wagons, + and jolly families off for town, and a herdsman driving sheep, and small + boys on their way to school with their dinner pails, and a gypsy wagon + with lean, led horses following behind, and even a Jewish peddler with a + crinkly black beard, whom I was on the very point of stopping. + </p> + <p> + “I should like sometime to know a Jew,” I said to myself. + </p> + <p> + As I travelled, feeling like one who possesses hidden riches, I came quite + without warning upon the beginning of my great adventure. I had been + looking for a certain thing all the morning, first on one side of the + road, then the other, and finally I was rewarded. There it was, nailed + high upon tree, the curious, familiar sign: + </p> + <p> + [ REST ] + </p> + <p> + I stopped instantly. It seemed like an old friend. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said I. “I'm not at all tired, but I want to be agreeable.” + </p> + <p> + With that I sat down on a convenient stone, took off my hat, wiped my + forehead, and looked about me with satisfaction, for it was a pleasant + country. + </p> + <p> + I had not been sitting there above two minutes when my eyes fell upon one + of the oddest specimens of humanity (I thought then) that ever I saw. He + had been standing near the roadside, just under the tree upon which I had + seen the sign, “Rest.” My heart dotted and carried one. + </p> + <p> + “The sign man himself!” I exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + I arose instantly and walked down the road toward him. + </p> + <p> + “A man has only to stop anywhere here,” I said exultantly, “and things + happen.” + </p> + <p> + The stranger's appearance was indeed extraordinary. He seemed at first + glimpse to be about twice as large around the hips as he was at the + shoulders, but this I soon discovered to be due to no natural avoir-dupois + but to the prodigious number of soiled newspapers and magazines with which + the low-hanging pockets of his overcoat were stuffed. For he was still + wearing an old shabby overcoat though the weather was warm and bright—and + on his head was an odd and outlandish hat. It was of fur, flat at the top, + flat as a pie tin, with the moth-eaten earlaps turned up at the sides and + looking exactly like small furry ears. These, with the round steel + spectacles which he wore—the only distinctive feature of his + countenance—gave him an indescribably droll appearance. + </p> + <p> + “A fox!” I thought. + </p> + <p> + Then I looked at him more closely. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said I, “an owl, an owl!” + </p> + <p> + The stranger stepped out into the road and evidently awaited my approach. + My first vivid impression of his face—I remember it afterward + shining with a strange inward illumination—was not favourable. It + was a deep-lined, scarred, worn-looking face, insignificant if not indeed + ugly in its features, and yet, even at the first glance, revealing + something inexplainable—incalculable— + </p> + <p> + “Good day, friend,” I said heartily. + </p> + <p> + Without replying to my greeting, he asked: + </p> + <p> + “Is this the road to Kilburn?”—with a faint flavour of foreignness + in his words. + </p> + <p> + “I think it is,” I replied, and I noticed as he lifted his hand to thank + me that one finger was missing and that the hand itself was cruelly + twisted and scarred. + </p> + <p> + The stranger instantly set off up the Road without giving me much more + attention than he would have given any other signpost. I stood a moment + looking after him—the wings of his overcoat beating about his legs + and the small furry ears on his cap wagging gently. + </p> + <p> + “There,” said I aloud, “is a man who is actually going somewhere.” + </p> + <p> + So many men in this world are going nowhere in particular that when one + comes along—even though he be amusing and insignificant—who is + really (and passionately) going somewhere, what a stir he communicates to + a dull world! We catch sparks of electricity from the very friction of his + passage. + </p> + <p> + It was so with this odd stranger. Though at one moment I could not help + smiling at him, at the next I was following him. + </p> + <p> + “It may be,” said I to myself, “that this is really the sign man!” + </p> + <p> + I felt like Captain Kidd under full sail to capture a treasure ship; and + as I approached I was much agitated as to the best method of grappling and + boarding. I finally decided, being a lover of bold methods, to let go my + largest gun first—for moral effect. + </p> + <p> + “So,” said I, as I ran alongside, “you are the man who puts up the signs.” + </p> + <p> + He stopped and looked at me. + </p> + <p> + “What signs?” + </p> + <p> + “Why the sign 'Rest' along this road.” + </p> + <p> + He paused for some seconds with a perplexed expression on his face. + </p> + <p> + “Then you are not the sign man?” I said. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he replied, “I ain't any sign man.” + </p> + <p> + I was not a little disappointed, but having made my attack, I determined + to see if there was any treasure aboard—which, I suppose, should be + the procedure of any well-regulated pirate. + </p> + <p> + “I'm going this way myself,” I said, “and if you have no objections—” + </p> + <p> + He stood looking at me curiously, indeed suspiciously, through his round + spectacles. + </p> + <p> + “Have you got the passport?” he asked finally. + </p> + <p> + “The passport!” I exclaimed, mystified in my turn. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said he, “the passport. Let me see your hand.” + </p> + <p> + When I held out my hand he looked at it closely for a moment, and then + took it with a quick warm pressure in one of his, and gave it a little + shake, in a way not quite American. + </p> + <p> + “You are one of us,” said he, “you work.” + </p> + <p> + I thought at first that it was a bit of pleasantry, and I was about to + return it in kind when I saw plainly in his face a look of solemn intent. + </p> + <p> + “So,” he said, “we shall travel like comrades.” + </p> + <p> + He thrust his scarred hand through my arm, and we walked up the road side + by side, his bulging pockets beating first against his legs and then + against mine, quite impartially. + </p> + <p> + “I think,” said the stranger, “that we shall be arrested at Kilburn.” + </p> + <p> + “We shall!” I exclaimed with something, I admit, of a shock. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said, “but it is all in the day's work.” + </p> + <p> + “How is that?” + </p> + <p> + He stopped in the road and faced me. Throwing back his overcoat he pointed + to a small red button on his coat lapel. + </p> + <p> + “They don't want me in Kilburn,” said he, “the mill men are strikin' + there, and the bosses have got armed men on every corner. Oh, the + capitalists are watchin' for me, all right.” + </p> + <p> + I cannot convey the strange excitement I felt. It seemed as though these + words suddenly opened a whole new world around me—a world I had + heard about for years, but never entered. And the tone in which he had + used the word “capitalist!” I had almost to glance around to make sure + that there were no ravening capitalists hiding behind the trees. + </p> + <p> + “So you are a Socialist,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he answered. “I'm one of those dangerous persons.” + </p> + <p> + First and last I have read much of Socialism, and thought about it, too, + from the quiet angle of my farm among the hills, but this was the first + time I had ever had a live Socialist on my arm. I could not have been more + surprised if the stranger had said, “Yes, I am Theodore Roosevelt.” + </p> + <p> + One of the discoveries we keep making all our life long (provided we + remain humble) is the humorous discovery of the ordinariness of the + extraordinary. Here was this disrupter of society, this man of the red + flag—here he was with his mild spectacled eyes and his furry ears + wagging as he walked. It was unbelievable!—and the sun shining on + him quite as impartially as it shone on me. + </p> + <p> + Coming at last to a pleasant bit of woodland, where a stream ran under the + roadway, I said: + </p> + <p> + “Stranger, let's sit down and have a bite of luncheon.” + </p> + <p> + He began to expostulate, said he was expected in Kilburn. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I've plenty for two,” I said, “and I can say, at least, that I am a + firm believer in cooperation.” + </p> + <p> + Without more urging he followed me into the woods, where we sat down + comfortably under a tree. + </p> + <p> + Now, when I take a fine thick sandwich out of my bag, I always feel like + making it a polite bow, and before I bite into a big brown doughnut, I am + tempted to say, “By your leave, madam,” and as for MINCE PIE——-Beau + Brummel himself could not outdo me in respectful consideration. But Bill + Hahn neither saw, nor smelled, nor, I think, tasted Mrs. Ransome's + cookery. As soon as we sat down he began talking. From time to time he + would reach out for another sandwich or doughnut or pickle (without + knowing in the least which he was getting), and when that was gone some + reflex impulse caused him to reach out for some more. When the last crumb + of our lunch had disappeared Bill Hahn still reached out. His hand groped + absently about, and coming in contact with no more doughnuts or pickles he + withdrew it—and did not know, I think, that the meal was finished. + (Confidentially, I have speculated on what might have happened if the + supply had been unlimited!) + </p> + <p> + But that was Bill Hahn. Once started on his talk, he never thought of food + or clothing or shelter; but his eyes glowed, his face lighted up with a + strange effulgence, and he quite lost himself upon the tide of his own + oratory. I saw him afterward by a flare-light at the centre of a great + crowd of men and women—but that is getting ahead of my story. + </p> + <p> + His talk bristled with such words as “capitalism,” “proletariat,” + “class-consciousness”—and he spoke with fluency of “economic + determinism” and “syndicalism.” It was quite wonderful! And from time to + time, he would bring in a smashing quotation from Aristotle, Napoleon, + Karl Marx, or Eugene V. Debs, giving them all equal value, and he cited + statistics!—oh, marvellous statistics, that never were on sea or + land. + </p> + <p> + Once he was so swept away by his own eloquence that he sprang to his feet + and, raising one hand high above his head (quite unconscious that he was + holding up a dill pickle), he worked through one of his most thrilling + periods. + </p> + <p> + Yes, I laughed, and yet there was so brave a simplicity about this odd, + absurd little man that what I laughed at was only his outward appearance + (and that he himself had no care for), and all the time I felt a growing + respect and admiration for him. He was not only sincere, but he was + genuinely simple—a much higher virtue, as Fenelon says. For while + sincere people do not aim at appearing anything but what they are, they + are always in fear of passing for something they are not. They are forever + thinking about themselves, weighing all their words and thoughts and + dwelling upon what they have done, in the fear of having done too much or + too little, whereas simplicity, as Fenelon says, is an uprightness of soul + which has ceased wholly to dwell upon itself or its actions. Thus there + are plenty of sincere folk in the world but few who are simple. + </p> + <p> + Well, the longer he talked, the less interested I was in what he said and + the more fascinated I became in what he was. I felt a wistful interest in + him: and I wanted to know what way he took to purge himself of himself. I + think if I had been in that group nineteen hundred years ago, which + surrounded the beggar who was born blind, but whose anointed eyes now + looked out upon glories of the world, I should have been among the + questioners: + </p> + <p> + “What did he to thee? How opened he thine eyes?” + </p> + <p> + I tried ineffectually several times to break the swift current of his + oratory and finally succeeded (when he paused a moment to finish off a bit + of pie crust). + </p> + <p> + “You must have seen some hard experiences in your life,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “That I have,” responded Bill Hahn, “the capitalistic system—” + </p> + <p> + “Did you ever work in the mills yourself?” I interrupted hastily. + </p> + <p> + “Boy and man,” said Bill Hahn, “I worked in that hell for thirty-two years—The + class-conscious proletariat have only to exert themselves—” + </p> + <p> + “And your wife, did she work too—and your sons and daughters?” + </p> + <p> + A spasm of pain crossed his face. + </p> + <p> + “My daughter?” he said. “They killed her in the mills.” + </p> + <p> + It was appalling—the dead level of the tone in which he uttered + those words—the monotone of an emotion long ago burned out, and yet + leaving frightful scars. + </p> + <p> + “My friend!” I exclaimed, and I could not help laying my hand on his arm. + </p> + <p> + I had the feeling I often have with troubled children—an + indescribable pity that they have had to pass through the valley of the + shadow, and I not there to take them by the hand. + </p> + <p> + “And was this—your daughter—what brought you to your present + belief?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said he, “oh, no. I was a Socialist, as you might say, from youth + up. That is, I called myself a Socialist, but, comrade, I've learned this + here truth: that it ain't of so much importance that you possess a belief, + as that the belief possess you. Do you understand?” + </p> + <p> + “I think,” said I, “that I understand.” + </p> + <p> + Well, he told me his story, mostly in a curious, dull, detached way—as + though he were speaking of some third person in whom he felt only a + brotherly interest, but from time to time some incident or observation + would flame up out of the narrative, like the opening of the door of a + molten pit—so that the glare hurt one!—and then the story + would die back again into quiet narrative. + </p> + <p> + Like most working people he had never lived in the twentieth century at + all. He was still in the feudal age, and his whole life had been a blind + and ceaseless struggle for the bare necessaries of life, broken from time + to time by fierce irregular wars called strikes. He had never known + anything of a real self-governing commonwealth, and such progress as he + and his kind had made was never the result of their citizenship, of their + powers as voters, but grew out of the explosive and ragged upheavals, of + their own half-organized societies and unions. + </p> + <p> + It was against the “black people” he said, that he was first on strike + back in the early nineties. He told me all about it, how he had been + working in the mills pretty comfortably—he was young and strong + then; with a fine growing family and a small home of his own. + </p> + <p> + “It was as pretty a place as you would want to see,” he said; “we grew + cabbages and onions and turnips—everything grew fine!—in the + garden behind the house.” + </p> + <p> + And then the “black people” began to come in, little by little at first, + and then by the carload. By the “black people” he meant the people from + Southern Europe, he called them “hordes”—“hordes and hordes of 'em”—Italians + mostly, and they began getting into the mills and underbidding for the + jobs, so that wages slowly went down and at the same time the machines + were speeded up. It seems that many of these “black people” were single + men or vigorous young married people with only themselves to support, + while the old American workers were men with families and little homes to + pay for, and plenty of old grandfathers and mothers, to say nothing of + babies, depending upon them. + </p> + <p> + “There wasn't a living for a decent family left,” he said. + </p> + <p> + So they struck—and he told me in his dull monotone of the long + bitterness of that strike, the empty cupboards, the approach of winter + with no coal for the stoves and no warm clothing for the children. He told + me that many of the old workers began to leave the town (some bound for + the larger cities, some for the Far West). + </p> + <p> + “But,” said he with a sudden outburst of emotion, “I couldn't leave. I had + the woman and the children!” + </p> + <p> + And presently the strike collapsed, and the workers rushed helter skelter + back to the mills to get their old jobs. “Begging like whipped dogs,” he + said bitterly. + </p> + <p> + Many of them found their places taken by the eager “black people,” and + many had to go to work at lower wages in poorer places—punished for + the fight they had made. + </p> + <p> + But he got along somehow, he said—“the woman was a good manager”—until + one day he had the misfortune to get his hand caught in the machinery. It + was a place which should have been protected with guards, but was not. He + was laid up for several weeks, and the company, claiming that the accident + was due to his own stupidity and carelessness, refused even to pay his + wages while he was idle. Well, the family had to live somehow, and the + woman and the daughter—“she was a little thing,” he said, “and + frail”—the woman and the daughter went into the mill. But even with + this new source of income they began to fall behind. Money which should + have gone toward making the last payments on their home (already long + delayed by the strike) had now to go to the doctor and the grocer. + </p> + <p> + “We had to live,” said Bill Hahn. + </p> + <p> + Again and again he used this same phrase, “We had to live!” as a sort of + bedrock explanation for all the woes of life. + </p> + <p> + After a time, with one finger gone and a frightfully scarred hand—he + held it up for me to see—he went back into the mill. + </p> + <p> + “But it kept getting worse and worse,” said he, “and finally I couldn't + stand it any longer.” + </p> + <p> + He and a group of friends got together secretly and tried to organize a + union, tried to get the workmen together to improve their own condition; + but in some way (“they had spies everywhere,” he said) the manager learned + of the attempt and one morning when he reported at the mill he was handed + a slip asking him to call for his wages, that his help was no longer + required. + </p> + <p> + “I'd been with that one company for twenty years and four months,” he said + bitterly, “I'd helped in my small way to build it up, make it a big + concern payin' 28 per cent. dividends every year; I'd given part of my + right hand in doin' it—and they threw me out like an old shoe.” + </p> + <p> + He said he would have pulled up and gone away, but he still had the little + home and the garden, and his wife and daughter were still at work, so he + hung on grimly, trying to get some other job. “But what good is a man for + any other sort of work,” he said, “when he has been trained to the mills + for thirty-two years!” + </p> + <p> + It was not very long after that when the “great strike” began—indeed, + it grew out of the organization which he had tried to launched—and + Bill Hahn threw himself into it with all his strength. He was one of the + leaders. I shall not attempt to repeat here his description of the bitter + struggle, the coming of the soldiery, the street riots, the long lists of + arrests (“some,” said he, “got into jail on purpose, so that they could at + least have enough to eat!”), the late meetings of strikers, the wild + turmoil and excitement. + </p> + <p> + Of all this he told me, and then he stopped suddenly, and after a long + pause he said in a low voice: + </p> + <p> + “Comrade, did ye ever see your wife and your sickly daughter and your kids + sufferin' for bread to eat?” + </p> + <p> + He paused again with a hard, dry sob in his voice. + </p> + <p> + “Did ye ever see that?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said I, very humbly, “I have never seen anything like that.” + </p> + <p> + He turned on me suddenly, and I shall never forget the look on his face, + nor the blaze in his eyes: + </p> + <p> + “Then what can you know about working-men?” + </p> + <p> + What could I answer? + </p> + <p> + A moment passed and then he said, as if a little remorseful at having + turned thus on me: + </p> + <p> + “Comrade, I tell you, the iron entered my soul—them days.” + </p> + <p> + It seems that the leaders of the strike were mostly old employees like + Bill Hahn, and the company had conceived the idea that if these men could + be eliminated the organization would collapse, and the strikers be forced + back to work. One day Bill Hahn found that proceedings had been started to + turn him out of his home, upon which he had not been able to keep up his + payments, and at the same time the merchant, of whom he had been a + respected customer for years, refused to give him any further credit. + </p> + <p> + “But we lived somehow,” he said, “we lived and we fought.” + </p> + <p> + It was then that he began to see clearly what it all meant. He said he + made a great discovery: that the “black people” against whom they had + struck in 1894 were not to blame! + </p> + <p> + “I tell you,” said he, “we found when we got started that them black + people—we used to call 'em dagoes—were just workin' people + like us—and in hell with us. They were good soldiers, them + Eyetalians and Poles and Syrians, they fought with us to the end.” + </p> + <p> + I shall not soon forget the intensely dramatic but perfectly simple way in + which he told me how he came, as he said, “to see the true light.” Holding + up his maimed right hand (that trembled a little), he pointed one finger + upward. + </p> + <p> + “I seen the big hand in the sky,” he said, “I seen it as clear as + daylight.” + </p> + <p> + He said he saw at last what Socialism meant. One day he went home from a + strikers' meeting—one of the last, for the men were worn out with + their long struggle. It was a bitter cold day, and he was completely + discouraged. When he reached his own street he saw a pile of household + goods on the sidewalk in front of his home. He saw his wife there wringing + her hands and crying. He said he could not take a step further, but sat + down on a neighbour's porch and looked and looked. “It was curious,” he + said, “but the only thing I could see or think about was our old family + clock which they had stuck on top of the pile, half tipped over. It looked + odd and I wanted to set it up straight. It was the clock we bought when we + were married, and we'd had it about twenty years on the mantel in the + livin'-room. It was a good clock,” he said. + </p> + <p> + He paused and then smiled a little. + </p> + <p> + “I never have figured it out why I should have been able to think of + nothing but that clock,” he said, “but so it was.” + </p> + <p> + When he got home, he found his frail daughter just coming out of the empty + house, “coughing as though she was dyin'.” Something, he said, seemed to + stop inside him. Those were his words: “Something seemed to stop inside 'o + me.” + </p> + <p> + He turned away without saying a word, walked back to strike headquarters, + borrowed a revolver from a friend, and started out along the main road + which led into the better part of the town. + </p> + <p> + “Did you ever hear o' Robert Winter?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said I. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Robert Winter was the biggest gun of 'em all. He owned the mills + there and the largest store and the newspaper—he pretty nearly owned + the town.” + </p> + <p> + He told me much more about Robert Winter which betrayed still a curious + sort of feudal admiration for him, and for his great place and power; but + I need not dwell on it here. He told me how he climbed through a hemlock + hedge (for the stone gateway was guarded) and walked through the snow + toward the great house. + </p> + <p> + “An' all the time I seemed to be seein' my daughter Margy right there + before my eyes coughing as though she was dyin'.” + </p> + <p> + It was just nightfall and all the windows were alight. He crept up to a + clump of bushes under a window and waited there a moment while he drew out + and cocked his revolver. Then he slowly reached upward until his head + cleared the sill and he could look into the room. “A big, warm room,” he + described it. + </p> + <p> + “Comrade,” said he, “I had murder in my heart that night.” + </p> + <p> + So he stood there looking in with the revolver ready cocked in his hand. + </p> + <p> + “And what do you think I seen there?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot guess,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Bill Hahn, “I seen the great Robert Winter that we had been + fighting for five long months—and he was down on his hands and knees + on the carpet—he had his little daughter on his back—and he + was creepin' about with her—an' she was laughin'.” + </p> + <p> + Bill Hahn paused. + </p> + <p> + “I had a bead on him,” he said, “but I couldn't do it—I just + couldn't do it.” + </p> + <p> + He came away all weak and trembling and cold, and, “Comrade,” he said, “I + was cryin' like a baby, and didn't know why.” + </p> + <p> + The next day the strike collapsed and there was the familiar stampede for + work—but Bill Hahn did not go back. He knew it would be useless. A + week later his frail daughter died and was buried in the paupers field. + </p> + <p> + “She was as truly killed,” he said, “as though some one had fired a bullet + at her through a window.” + </p> + <p> + “And what did you do after that?” I asked, when he had paused for a long + time with his chin on his breast. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said he, “I did a lot of thinking them days, and I says to myself: + 'This thing is wrong, and I will go out and stop it—I will go out + and stop it.'” + </p> + <p> + As he uttered these words, I looked at him curiously—his absurd flat + fur hat with the moth-eaten ears, the old bulging overcoat, the round + spectacles, the scarred, insignificant face—he seemed somehow + transformed, a person elevated above himself, the tool of some vast + incalculable force. + </p> + <p> + I shall never forget the phrase he used to describe his own feelings when + he had reached this astonishing decision to go out and stop the wrongs of + the World. He said he “began to feel all clean inside.” + </p> + <p> + “I see it didn't matter what become o' me, and I began to feel all clean + inside.” + </p> + <p> + It seemed, he explained, as though something big and strong had got hold + of him, and he began to be happy. + </p> + <p> + “Since then,” he said in a low voice, “I've been happier than I ever was + before in all my life. I ain't got any family, nor any home—rightly + speakin'—nor any money, but, comrade, you see here in front of you, + a happy man.” + </p> + <p> + When he had finished his story we sat quiet for some time. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said he, finally, “I must be goin'. The committee will wonder + what's become o' me.” + </p> + <p> + I followed him out to the road. There I put my hand on his shoulder, and + said: + </p> + <p> + “Bill Hahn, you are a better man than I am.” + </p> + <p> + He smiled, a beautiful smile, and we walked off together down the road. + </p> + <p> + I wish I had gone on with him at that time into the city, but somehow I + could not do it. I stopped near the top of the hill where one can see in + the distance that smoky huddle of buildings which is known as Kilburn, and + though he urged me, I turned aside and sat down in the edge of a meadow. + There were many things I wanted to think about, to get clear in my mind. + </p> + <p> + As I sat looking out toward that great city, I saw three men walking in + the white road. As I watched them, I could see them coming quickly, + eagerly. Presently they threw up their hands and evidently began to shout, + though I could not hear what they said. At that moment I saw my friend + Bill Hahn running in the road, his coat skirts flapping heavily about his + legs. When they met they almost fell into another's arms. + </p> + <p> + I suppose it was so that the early Christians, those who hid in the Roman + catacombs, were wont to greet one another. + </p> + <p> + So I sat thinking. + </p> + <p> + “A man,” I said to myself, “who can regard himself as a function, not an + end of creation, has arrived.” + </p> + <p> + After a time I got up and walked down the hill—some strange force + carrying me onward—and came thus to the city of Kilburn. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. I AM CAUGHT UP INTO LIFE + </h2> + <p> + I can scarcely convey in written words the whirling emotions I felt when I + entered the city of Kilburn. Every sight, every sound, recalled vividly + and painfully the unhappy years I had once spent in another and greater + city. Every mingled odour of the streets—and there is nothing that + will so surely re-create (for me) the inner emotion of a time or place as + a remembered odour—brought back to me the incidents of that + immemorial existence. + </p> + <p> + For a time, I confess it frankly here, I felt afraid. More than once I + stopped short in the street where I was walking, and considered turning + about and making again for the open country. Some there may be who will + feel that I am exaggerating my sensations and impressions, but they do not + know of my memories of a former life, nor of how, many years ago, I left + the city quite defeated, glad indeed that I was escaping, and thinking (as + I have related elsewhere) that I should never again set foot upon a paved + street. These things went deep with me. Only the other day, when a friend + asked me how old I was, I responded instantly—our unpremeditated + words are usually truest—with the date of my arrival at this farm. + </p> + <p> + “Then you are only ten years old!” he exclaimed with a laugh, thinking I + was joking. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” I said, “I am counting only the years worth living.” + </p> + <p> + No; I existed, but I never really lived until I was reborn, that wonderful + summer here among these hills. + </p> + <p> + I said I felt afraid in the streets of Kilburn, but it was no physical + fear. Who could be safer in a city than the man who has not a penny in his + pockets? It was rather a strange, deep, spiritual shrinking. There seemed + something so irresistible about this life of the city, so utterly + overpowering. I had a sense of being smaller than I had previously felt + myself, that in some way my personality, all that was strong or + interesting or original about me, was being smudged over, rubbed out. In + the country I had in some measure come to command life, but here, it + seemed to me, life was commanding me and crushing me down. It is a + difficult thing to describe: I never felt just that way before. + </p> + <p> + I stopped at last on the main street of Kilburn in the very heart of the + town. I stopped because it seemed necessary to me, like a man in a flood, + to touch bottom, to get hold upon something immovable and stable. It was + just at that hour of evening when the stores and shops are pouring forth + their rivulets of humanity to join the vast flood of the streets. I + stepped quickly aside into a niche near the corner of an immense building + of brick and steel and glass, and there I stood with my back to the wall, + and I watched the restless, whirling, torrential tide of the streets. I + felt again, as I had not felt it before in years, the mysterious urge of + the city—the sense of unending, overpowering movement. + </p> + <p> + There was another strange, indeed uncanny, sensation that began to creep + over me as I stood there. Though hundreds upon hundreds of men and women + were passing me every minute, not one of them seemed to see me. Most of + them did not even look in my direction, and those who did turn their eyes + toward me see me to glance through me to the building behind. I wonder if + this is at all a common experience, or whether I was unduly sensitive that + day, unduly wrought up? I began to feel like one clad in garments of + invisibility. I could see, but was not seen. I could feel, but was not + felt. In the country there are few who would not stop to speak to me, or + at least appraise me with their eyes; but here I was a wraith, a ghost—not + a palpable human being at all. For a moment I felt unutterably lonely. + </p> + <p> + It is this way with me. When I have reached the very depths of any serious + situation or tragic emotion, something within me seems at last to stop—how + shall I describe it?—and I rebound suddenly and see the world, as it + were, double—see that my condition instead of being serious or + tragic is in reality amusing—and I usually came out of it with an + utterly absurd or whimsical idea. It was so upon this occasion. I think it + was the image of my robust self as a wraith that did it. + </p> + <p> + “After all,” I said aloud taking a firm hold on the good hard flesh of one + of my legs, “this is positively David Grayson.” + </p> + <p> + I looked out again into that tide of faces—interesting, tired, + passive, smiling, sad, but above all, preoccupied faces. + </p> + <p> + “No one,” I thought, “seems to know that David Grayson has come to town.” + </p> + <p> + I had the sudden, almost irresistible notion of climbing up a step near + me, holding up one hand, and crying out: + </p> + <p> + “Here I am, my friends. I am David Grayson. I am real and solid and + opaque; I have plenty of red blood running in my veins. I assure you that + I am a person well worth knowing.” + </p> + <p> + I should really have enjoyed some such outlandish enterprise, and I am not + at all sure yet that it would not have brought me adventures and made me + friends worth while. We fail far more often by under-daring than by + over-daring. + </p> + <p> + But this imaginary object had the result, at least, of giving me a new + grip on things. I began to look out upon the amazing spectacle before me + in a different mood. It was exactly like some enormous anthill into which + an idle traveller had thrust his cane. Everywhere the ants were running + out of their tunnels and burrows, many carrying burdens and giving one + strangely the impression that while they were intensely alive and active, + not more than half of them had any clear idea of where they were going. + And serious, deadly serious, in their haste! I felt a strong inclination + to stop a few of them and say: + </p> + <p> + “Friends, cheer up. It isn't half as bad as you think it is. Cheer up!” + </p> + <p> + After a time the severity of the human flood began to abate, and here and + there at the bottom of that gulch of a street, which had begun to fill + with soft, bluish-gray shadows, the evening lights a appeared. The air had + grown cooler; in the distance around a corner I heard a street organ break + suddenly and joyously into the lively strains of “The Wearin' o' the + Green.” + </p> + <p> + I stepped out into the street with quite a new feeling of adventure. And + as if to testify that I was now a visible person a sharp-eyed newsboy + discovered me—the first human being in Kilburn who had actually seen + me—and came up with a paper in his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Herald, boss?” + </p> + <p> + I was interested in the shrewd, world-wise, humorous look in the urchin's + eyes. + </p> + <p> + “No,” I began, with the full intent of bantering him into some sort of + acquaintance; but he evidently measured my purchasing capacity quite + accurately, for he turned like a flash to another customer. “Herald, + boss?” + </p> + <p> + “You'll have to step lively, David Grayson,” I said to myself, “if you get + aboard in this city.” + </p> + <p> + A slouchy negro with a cigarette in his fingers glanced at me in passing + and then, hesitating, turned quickly toward me. + </p> + <p> + “Got a match, boss?” + </p> + <p> + I gave him a match. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, boss,” and he passed on down the street. + </p> + <p> + “I seem to be 'boss' around here,” I said. + </p> + <p> + This contact, slight as it was, gave me a feeling of warmth, removed a + little the sensation of aloofness I had felt, and I strolled slowly down + the street, looking in at the gay windows, now ablaze with lights, and + watching the really wonderful procession of vehicles of all shapes and + sizes that rattled by on the pavement. Even at that hour of the day I + think there were more of them in one minute than I see in a whole month at + my farm. + </p> + <p> + It's a great thing to wear shabby clothes and an old hat. Some of the best + things I have ever known, like these experiences of the streets, have + resulted from coming up to life from underneath; of being taken for less + than I am rather than for more than I am. + </p> + <p> + I did not always believe in this doctrine. For many years—the years + before I was rightly born into this alluring world—I tried quite the + opposite course. I was constantly attempting to come down to life from + above. Instead of being content to carry through life a sufficiently + wonderful being named David Grayson I tried desperately to set up and + support a sort of dummy creature which, so clad, so housed, so fed, should + appear to be what I thought David Grayson ought to appear in the eyes of + the world. Oh, I spent quite a lifetime trying to satisfy other people! + </p> + <p> + Once I remember staying at home, in bed, reading “Huckleberry Finn,” while + I sent my trousers out to be mended. + </p> + <p> + Well, that dummy Grayson perished in a cornfield. His empty coat served + well for a scarecrow. A wisp of straw stuck out through a hole in his + finest hat. + </p> + <p> + And I—the man within—I escaped, and have been out freely upon + the great adventure of life. + </p> + <p> + If a shabby coat (and I speak here also symbolically, not forgetful of + spiritual significances) lets you into the adventurous world of those who + are poor it does not on the other hand rob you of any true friendship + among those who are rich or mighty. I say true friendship, for unless a + man who is rich and mighty is able to see through my shabby coat (as I see + through his fine one), I shall gain nothing by knowing him. + </p> + <p> + I've permitted myself all this digression—left myself walking alone + there in the streets of Kilburn while I philosophized upon the ways and + means of life—not without design, for I could have had no such + experiences as I did have in Kilburn if I had worn a better coat or + carried upon me the evidences of security in life. + </p> + <p> + I think I have already remarked upon the extraordinary enlivenment of wits + which comes to the man who has been without a meal or so and does not know + when or where he is again to break his fast. Try it, friend and see! It + was already getting along in the evening, and I knew or supposed I knew no + one in Kilburn save only Bill Hahn, Socialist who was little better off + than I was. + </p> + <p> + In this emergency my mind began to work swiftly. A score of fascinating + plans for getting my supper and a bed to sleep in flashed through my mind. + </p> + <p> + “Why,” said I, “when I come to think of it, I'm comparatively rich. I'll + warrant there are plenty of places in Kilburn, and good ones, too, where I + could barter a chapter of Montaigne and a little good conversation for a + first-rate supper, and I've no doubt that I could whistle up a bed almost + anywhere!” + </p> + <p> + I thought of a little motto I often repeat to myself: + </p> + <p> + TO KNOW LIFE, BEGIN ANYWHERE! + </p> + <p> + There were several people on the streets of Kilburn that night who don't + know yet how very near they were to being boarded by a somewhat shabby + looking farmer who would have offered them, let us say, a notable musical + production called “Old Dan Tucker,” exquisitely performed on a tin + whistle, in exchange for a good honest supper. + </p> + <p> + There was one man in particular—a fine, pompous citizen who came + down the street swinging his cane and looking as though the universe was a + sort of Christmas turkey, lying all brown and sizzling before him ready to + be carved—a fine pompous citizen who never realized how nearly Fate + with a battered volume of Montaigne in one hand and a tin whistle in the + other—came to pouncing upon him that evening! And I am firmly + convinced that if I had attacked him with the Great Particular Word he + would have carved me off a juicy slice of the white breast meat. + </p> + <p> + “I'm getting hungry,” I said; “I must find Bill Hahn!” + </p> + <p> + I had turned down a side street, and seeing there in front of a building a + number of lounging men with two or three cabs or carriages standing nearby + in the street I walked up to them. It was a livery barn. + </p> + <p> + Now I like all sorts of out-of-door people: I seem to be related to them + through horses and cattle and cold winds and sunshine. I like them and + understand them, and they seem to like me and understand me. So I walked + up to the group of jolly drivers and stablemen intending to ask my + directions. The talking died out and they all turned to look at me. I + suppose I was not altogether a familiar type there in the city streets. My + bag, especially, seemed to set me apart as a curious person. + </p> + <p> + “Friends,” I said, “I am a farmer—” + </p> + <p> + They all broke out laughing; they seemed to know it already! I was just a + little taken aback, but I laughed, too, knowing that there was a way of + getting at them if only I could find it. + </p> + <p> + “It may surprise you,” I said, “but this is the first time in some dozen + years that I've been in a big city like this.” + </p> + <p> + “You hadn't 'ave told us, partner!” said one of them, evidently the wit of + the group, in a rich Irish brogue. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” I responded, laughing with the best of them, “you've been living + right here all the time, and don't realize how amusing and curious the + city looks to me. Why, I feel as though I had been away sleeping for + twenty years, like Rip Van Winkle. When I left the city there was scarcely + an automobile to be seen anywhere—and now look at them snorting + through the streets. I counted twenty-two passing that corner up there in + five minutes by the clock.” + </p> + <p> + This was a fortunate remark, for I found instantly that the invasion of + the automobile was a matter of tremendous import to such Knights of + Bucephalus as these. + </p> + <p> + At first the wit interrupted me with amusing remarks, as wits will, but I + soon had him as quiet as the others. For I have found the things that + chiefly interest people are the things they already know about—provided + you show them that these common things are still mysterious, still + miraculous, as indeed they are. + </p> + <p> + After a time some one pushed me a stable stool and I sat down among them, + and we had quite a conversation, which finally developed into an amusing + comparison (I wish I had room to repeat it here) between the city and the + country. I told them something about my farm, how much I enjoyed it, and + what a wonderful free life one had in the country. In this I was really + taking an unfair advantage of them, for I was trading on the fact that + every man, down deep in his heart, has more or less of an instinct to get + back to the soil—at least all outdoor men have. And when I described + the simplest things about my barn, and the cattle and pigs, and the bees—and + the good things we have to eat—I had every one of them leaning + forward and hanging on my words. + </p> + <p> + Harriet sometimes laughs at me for the way I celebrate farm life. She says + all my apples are the size of Hubbard squashes, my eggs all double-yolked, + and my cornfields tropical jungles. Practical Harriet! My apples may not + ALL be the size of Hubbard squashes, but they are good, sizable apples, + and as for flavour—all the spices of Arcady—! And I believe, I + KNOW, from my own experience that these fields and hills are capable of + healing men's souls. And when I see people wandering around a lonesome + city like Kilburn, with never a soft bit of soil to put their heels into, + nor a green thing to cultivate, nor any corn or apples or honey to + harvest, I feel—well, that they are wasting their time. + </p> + <p> + (It's a fact, Harriet!) + </p> + <p> + Indeed I had the most curious experience with my friend the wit—his + name I soon learned was Healy—a jolly, round, red-nosed, outdoor + chap with fists that looked like small-sized hams, and a rich, warm Irish + voice. At first he was inclined to use me as the ready butt of his lively + mind, but presently he became so much interested in what I was saying that + he sat squarely in front of me with both his jolly eyes and his smiling + mouth wide open. + </p> + <p> + “If ever you pass my way,” I said to him, “just drop in and I'll give you + a dinner of baked beans”—and I smacked—“and home made bread” + and I smacked again—“and pumpkin pie”—and I smacked a third + time—“that will make your mouth water.” + </p> + <p> + All this smacking and the description of baked beans and pumpkin pie had + an odd counter effect upon ME; for I suddenly recalled my own tragic + state. So I jumped up quickly and asked directions for getting down to the + mill neighbourhood, where I hoped to find Bill Hahn. My friend Healy + instantly volunteered the information. + </p> + <p> + “And now,” I said, “I want to ask a small favour of you. I'm looking for a + friend, and I'd like to leave my bag here for the night.” + </p> + <p> + “Sure, sure,” said the Irishman heartily. “Put it there in the office—on + top o' the desk. It'll be all right.” + </p> + <p> + So I put it in the office and was about to say good-bye, when my friend + said to me: + </p> + <p> + “Come in, partner, and have a drink before you go”—and he pointed to + a nearby saloon. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” I answered heartily, for I knew it was as fine a bit of + hospitality as he could offer me, “thank you, but I must find my friend + before it gets too late.” + </p> + <p> + “Aw, come on now,” he cried, taking my arm. “Sure you'll be better off for + a bit o' warmth inside.” + </p> + <p> + I had hard work to get away from them, and I am as sure as can be that + they would have found supper and a bed for me if they had known I needed + either. + </p> + <p> + “Come agin,” Healy shouted after me, “we're glad to see a farmer any + toime.” + </p> + <p> + My way led me quickly out of the well-groomed and glittering main streets + of the town. I passed first through several blocks of quiet residences, + and then came to a street near the river which was garishly lighted, and + crowded with small, poor shops and stores, with a saloon on nearly every + corner. I passed a huge, dark, silent box of a mill, and I saw what I + never saw before in a city, armed men guarding the streets. + </p> + <p> + Although it was growing late—it was after nine o'clock—crowds + of people were still parading the streets, and there was something + intangibly restless, something tense, in the very atmosphere of the + neighbourhood. It was very plain that I had reached the strike district. I + was about to make some further inquiries for the headquarters of the mill + men or for Bill Hahn personally, when I saw, not far ahead of me, a black + crowd of people reaching out into the street. Drawing nearer I saw that an + open space or block between two rows of houses was literally black with + human beings, and in the centre on a raised platform, under a gasolene + flare, I beheld my friend of the road, Bill Hahn. The overcoat and the hat + with the furry ears had disappeared, and the little man stood there + bare-headed, before that great audience. + </p> + <p> + My experience in the world is limited, but I have never heard anything + like that speech for sheer power. It was as unruly and powerful and + resistless as life itself. It was not like any other speech I ever heard, + for it was no mere giving out by the orator of ideas and thoughts and + feelings of his own. It seemed rather—how shall I describe it?—as + though the speaker was looking into the very hearts of that vast gathering + of poor men and poor women and merely telling them what they themselves + felt, but could not tell. And I shall never forget the breathless hush of + the people or the quality of their responses to the orator's words. It was + as though they said, “Yes, yes” with a feeling of vast relief—“Yes, + yes—at last our own hopes and fears and desires are being uttered—yes, + yes.” + </p> + <p> + As for the orator himself, he held up one maimed hand and leaned over the + edge of the platform, and his undistinguished face glowed with the white + light of a great passion within. The man had utterly forgotten himself. + </p> + <p> + I confess, among those eager working people, clad in their poor garments, + I confess I was profoundly moved. Faith is not so bounteous a commodity in + this world that we can afford to treat even its unfamiliar manifestations + with contempt. And when a movement is hot with life, when it stirs common + men to their depths, look out! look out! + </p> + <p> + Up to that time I had never known much of the practical workings of + Socialism; and the main contention of its philosophy has never accorded + wholly with my experience in life. + </p> + <p> + But the Socialism of to-day is no mere abstraction—as it was, + perhaps, in the days of Brook Farm. It is a mode of action. Men whose view + of life is perfectly balanced rarely soil themselves with the dust of + battle. The heat necessary to produce social conflict (and social progress—who + knows?) is generated by a supreme faith that certain principles are + universal in their application when in reality they are only local or + temporary. + </p> + <p> + Thus while one may not accept the philosophy of Socialism as a final + explanation of human life, he may yet look upon Socialism in action as a + powerful method of stimulating human progress. The world has been lagging + behind in its sense of brotherhood, and we now have the Socialists knit + together in a fighting friendship as fierce and narrow in its motives as + Calvinism, pricking us to reform, asking the cogent question: + </p> + <p> + “Are we not all brothers?” + </p> + <p> + Oh, we are going a long way with these Socialists, we are going to + discover a new world of social relationships—and then, and then, + like a mighty wave; will flow in upon us a renewed and more wonderful + sense of the worth of the individual human soul. A new individualism, + bringing with it, perhaps, some faint realization of our dreams of a race + of Supermen, lies just beyond! Its prophets, girded with rude garments and + feeding upon the wild honey of poverty, are already crying in the + wilderness. + </p> + <p> + I think I could have remained there at the Socialist meeting all night + long: there was something about it that brought a hard, dry twist to my + throat. But after a time my friend Bill Hahn, evidently quite worn out, + yielded his place to another and far less clairvoyant speaker, and the + crowd, among whom I now discovered quite a number of policemen, began to + thin out. + </p> + <p> + I made my way forward and saw Bill Hahn and several other men just leaving + the platform. I stepped up to him, but it was not until I called him by + name (I knew how absent minded he was!) that he recognized me. + </p> + <p> + “Well, well,” he said; “you came after all!” + </p> + <p> + He seized me by both arms and introduced me to several of his companions + as “Brother Grayson.” They all shook hands with me warmly. + </p> + <p> + Although he was perspiring, Bill put on his overcoat and the old fur hat + with the ears, and as he now took my arm I could feel one of his bulging + pockets beating against my leg. I had not the slightest idea where they + were going, but Bill held me by the arm and presently we came, a block or + so distant, to a dark, narrow stairway leading up from the street. I + recall the stumbling sound of steps on the wooden boards, a laugh or two, + the high voice of a woman asserting and denying. Feeling our way along the + wall, we came to the top and went into a long, low, rather dimly lighted + room set about with tables and chairs—a sort of restaurant. A number + of men and a few women had already gathered there. Among them my eyes + instantly singled out a huge, rough-looking man who stood at the centre of + an animated group. He had thick, shaggy hair, and one side of his face + over the cheekbone was of a dull blue-black and raked and scarred, where + it had been burned in a Powder blast. He had been a miner. His gray eyes, + which had a surprisingly youthful and even humorous expression, looked out + from under coarse, thick, gray brows. A very remarkable face and figure he + presented. I soon learned that he was R—— D——, the + leader of whom I had often heard, and heard no good thing. He was quite a + different type from Bill Hahn: he was the man of authority, the organizer, + the diplomat—as Bill was the prophet, preaching a holy war. + </p> + <p> + How wonderful human nature is! Only a short time before I had been + thrilled by the intensity of the passion of the throng, but here the mood + suddenly changed to one of friendly gayety. Fully a third of those present + were women, some of them plainly from the mills and some of them curiously + different—women from other walks in life who had thrown themselves + heart and soul into the strike. Without ceremony but with much laughing + and joking, they found their places around the tables. A cook, who + appeared in a dim doorway was greeted with a shout, to which he responded + with a wide smile, waving the long spoon which he held in his hand. + </p> + <p> + I shall not attempt to give any complete description of the gathering or + of what they said or did. I think I could devote a dozen pages to the + single man who was placed next to me. I was interested in him from the + outset. The first thing that struck me about him was an air of neatness, + even fastidiousness, about his person—though he wore no stiff + collar, only a soft woollen shirt without a necktie. He had the long + sensitive, beautiful hands of an artist, but his face was thin and marked + with the pallor peculiar to the indoor worker. I soon learned that he was + a weaver in the mills, an Englishman by birth, and we had not talked two + minutes before I found that, while he had never had any education in the + schools, he had been a gluttonous reader of books—all kind of books—and, + what is more, had thought about them and was ready with vigorous (and + narrow) opinions about this author or that. And he knew more about + economics and sociology, I firmly believe, than half the college + professors. A truly remarkable man. + </p> + <p> + It was an Italian restaurant, and I remember how, in my hunger, I assailed + the generous dishes of boiled meat and spaghetti. A red wine was served in + large bottles which circulated rapidly around the table, and almost + immediately the room began to fill with tobacco smoke. Every one seemed to + be talking and laughing at once, in the liveliest spirit of good + fellowship. They joked from table to table, and sometimes the whole room + would quiet down while some one told a joke, which invariably wound up + with a roar of laughter. + </p> + <p> + “Why,” I said, “these people have a whole life, a whole society, of their + own!” + </p> + <p> + In the midst of this jollity the clear voice of a girl rang out with the + first lines of a song. Instantly the room was hushed: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Arise, ye prisoners of starvation, + Arise, ye wretched of the earth, + For justice thunders condemnation + A better world's in birth. +</pre> + <p> + These were the words she sang, and when the clear, sweet voice died down + the whole company, as though by a common impulse, arose from their chairs, + and joined in a great swelling chorus: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + It is the final conflict, + Let each stand in his place, + The Brotherhood of Man + Shall be the human race. +</pre> + <p> + It was beyond belief, to me, the spirit with which these words were sung. + In no sense with jollity—all that seemed to have been dropped when + they came to their feet—but with an unmistakable fervour of faith. + Some of the things I had thought and dreamed about secretly among the + hills of my farm all these years, dreamed about as being something far off + and as unrealizable as the millennium, were here being sung abroad with + jaunty faith by these weavers of Kilburn, these weavers and workers whom I + had schooled myself to regard with a sort of distant pity. + </p> + <p> + Hardly had the company sat down again, with a renewal of the flow of jolly + conversation When I heard a rapping on one of the tables. I saw the great + form of R——- D——- slowly rising. + </p> + <p> + “Brothers and sisters,” he said, “a word of caution. The authorities will + lose no chance of putting us in the wrong. Above all we must comport + ourselves here and in the strike with great care. We are fighting a great + battle, bigger than we are—” + </p> + <p> + At this instant the door from the dark hallway suddenly opened and a man + in a policeman's uniform stepped in. There fell an instant's dead silence—an + explosive silence. Every person there seemed to be petrified in the + position in which his attention was attracted. Every eye was fixed on the + figure at the door. For an instant no one said a word; then I heard a + woman's shrill voice, like a rifle-shot: + </p> + <p> + “Assassin!” + </p> + <p> + I cannot imagine what might have happened next, for the feeling in the + room, as in the city itself, was at the tensest, had not the leader + suddenly brought the goblet which he held in his hand down with a bang + upon the table. + </p> + <p> + “As I was saying,” he continued in a steady, clear voice, “we are fighting + to-day the greatest of battles, and we cannot permit trivial incidents, or + personal bitterness, or small persecutions, to turn us from the great work + we have in hand. However our opponents may comport themselves, we must be + calm, steady, sure, patient, for we know that our cause is just and will + prevail.” + </p> + <p> + “You're right,” shouted a voice back in the room. + </p> + <p> + Instantly the tension relaxed, conversation started again and every one + turned away from the policeman at the door. In a few minutes, he + disappeared without having said a word. + </p> + <p> + There was no regular speaking, and about midnight the party began to break + up. I leaned over and said to my friend Bill Hahn: + </p> + <p> + “Can you find me a place to sleep tonight?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly I can,” he said heartily. + </p> + <p> + There was to be a brief conference of the leaders after the supper, and + those present soon departed. I went down the long, dark stairway and out + into the almost deserted street. Looking up between the buildings I could + see the clear blue sky and the stars. And I walked slowly up and down + awaiting my friend and trying, vainly to calm my whirling emotions. + </p> + <p> + He came at last and I went with him. That night I slept scarcely at all, + but lay looking up into the darkness. And it seemed as though, as I lay + there, listening, that I could hear the city moving in its restless sleep + and sighing as with heavy pain. All night long I lay there thinking. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. I COME TO GRAPPLE WITH THE CITY + </h2> + <p> + I have laughed heartily many times since I came home to think of the + Figure of Tragedy I felt myself that morning in the city of Kilburn. I had + not slept well, had not slept at all, I think, and the experiences and + emotions of the previous night still lay heavy upon me. Not before in many + years had I felt such a depression of the spirits. + </p> + <p> + It was all so different from the things I love! Not so much as a spear of + grass or a leafy tree to comfort the eye, or a bird to sing; no quiet + hills, no sight of the sun coming up in the morning over dewy fields, no + sound of cattle in the lane, no cheerful cackling of fowls, nor buzzing of + bees! That morning, I remember, when I first went out into those squalid + streets and saw everywhere the evidences of poverty, dirt, and ignorance—and + the sweet, clean country not two miles away—the thought of my own + home among the hills (with Harriet there in the doorway) came upon me with + incredible longing. + </p> + <p> + “I must go home; I must go home!” I caught myself saying aloud. + </p> + <p> + I remember how glad I was when I found that my friend Bill Hahn and other + leaders of the strike were to be engaged in conferences during the + forenoon, for I wanted to be alone, to try to get a few things + straightened out in my mind. + </p> + <p> + But I soon found that a city is a poor place for reflection or + contemplation. It bombards one with an infinite variety of new impressions + and new adventures; and I could not escape the impression made by crowded + houses, and ill-smelling streets, and dirty sidewalks, and swarming human + beings. For a time the burden of these things rested upon my breast like a + leaden weight; they all seemed so utterly wrong to me, so unnecessary; so + unjust! I sometimes think of religion as only a high sense of good order; + and it seemed to me that morning as though the very existence of this + disorderly mill district was a challenge to religion, and an offence to + the Orderer of an Orderly Universe. I don't now how such conditions may + affect other people, but for a time I felt a sharp sense of impatience—yes, + anger—with it all. I had an impulse to take off my coat then and + there and go at the job of setting things to rights. Oh, I never was more + serious in my life: I was quite prepared to change the entire scheme of + things to my way of thinking whether the people who lived there liked it + or not. It seemed to me for a few glorious moments that I had only to tell + them of the wonders in our country, the pleasant, quiet roads, the + comfortable farmhouses, the fertile fields, and the wooded hills—and, + poof! all this crowded poverty would dissolve and disappear, and they + would all come to the country and be as happy as I was. + </p> + <p> + I remember how, once in my life, I wasted untold energy trying to make + over my dearest friends. There was Harriet, for example, dear, serious, + practical Harriet. I used to be fretted by the way she was forever trying + to clip my wing feathers—I suppose to keep me close to the quiet and + friendly and unadventurous roost! We come by such a long, long road, + sometimes, to the acceptance of our nearest friends for exactly what they + are. Because we are so fond of them we try to make them over to suit some + curious ideal of perfection of our own—until one day we suddenly + laugh aloud at our own absurdity (knowing that they are probably trying as + hard to reconstruct us as we are to reconstruct them) and thereafter we + try no more to change them, we just love 'em and enjoy 'em! + </p> + <p> + Some such psychological process went on in my consciousness that morning. + As I walked briskly through the streets I began to look out more broadly + around me. It was really a perfect spring morning, the air crisp, fresh, + and sunny, and the streets full of life and activity. I looked into the + faces of the people I met, and it began to strike me that most of them + seemed oblivious of the fact that they should, by good rights, be looking + downcast and dispirited. They had cheered their approval the night before + when the speakers had told them how miserable they were (even + acknowledging that they were slaves), and yet here they were this morning + looking positively good-humoured, cheerful, some of them even gay. I + warrant if I had stepped up to one of them that morning and intimated that + he was a slave he would have—well, I should have had serious trouble + with him! There was a degree of sociability in those back streets, a + visiting from window to window, gossipy gatherings in front area-ways, a + sort of pavement domesticity, that I had never seen before. Being a lover + myself of such friendly intercourse I could actually feel the hum and + warmth of that neighbourhood. + </p> + <p> + A group of brightly clad girl strikers gathered on a corner were chatting + and laughing, and children in plenty ran and shouted at their play in the + street. I saw a group of them dancing merrily around an Italian hand-organ + man who was filling the air with jolly music. I recall what a sinking + sensation I had at the pit of my reformer's stomach when it suddenly + occurred to me that these people some of them, anyway, might actually LIKE + this crowded, sociable neighbourhood! “They might even HATE the country,” + I exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + It is surely one of the fundamental humours of life to see absurdly + serious little human beings (like D. G. for example) trying to stand in + the place of the Almighty. We are so confoundedly infallible in our + judgments, so sure of what is good for our neighbour, so eager to force + upon him our particular doctors or our particular remedies; we are so + willing to put our childish fingers into the machinery of creation—and + we howl so lustily when we get them pinched! + </p> + <p> + “Why!” I exclaimed, for it came to me like a new discovery, “it's exactly + the same here as it is in the country! I haven't got to make over the + universe: I've only got to do my own small job, and to look up often at + the trees and the hills and the sky and be friendly with all men.” + </p> + <p> + I cannot express the sense of comfort, and of trust, which this reflection + brought me. I recall stopping just then at the corner of a small green + city square, for I had now reached the better part of the city, and of + seeing with keen pleasure the green of the grass and the bright colour of + a bed of flowers, and two or three clean nursemaids with clean baby cabs, + and a flock of pigeons pluming themselves near a stone fountain, and an + old tired horse sleeping in the sun with his nose buried in a feed bag. + </p> + <p> + “Why,” I said, “all this, too, is beautiful!” So I continued my walk with + quite a new feeling in my heart, prepared again for any adventure life + might have to offer me. + </p> + <p> + I supposed I knew no living soul in Kilburn but Bill the Socialist. What + was my astonishment and pleasure, then in one of the business streets to + discover a familiar face and figure. A man was just stepping from an + automobile to the sidewalk. For an instant; in that unusual environment, I + could not place him, then I stepped up quickly and said: + </p> + <p> + “Well, well, Friend Vedder.” + </p> + <p> + He looked around with astonishment at the man in the shabby clothes—but + it was only for an instant. + </p> + <p> + “David Grayson!” he exclaimed, “and how did YOU get into the city?” + </p> + <p> + “Walked,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “But I thought you were an incurable and irreproachable countryman! Why + are you here?” + </p> + <p> + “Love o' life,” I said; “love o' life.” + </p> + <p> + “Where are you stopping?” I waved my hand. + </p> + <p> + “Where the road leaves me,” I said. “Last night I left my bag with some + good friends I made in front of a livery stable and I spent the night in + the mill district with a Socialist named Bill Hahn.” + </p> + <p> + “Bill Hahn!” The effect upon Mr. Vedder was magical. + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes,” I said, “and a remarkable man he is, too.” + </p> + <p> + I discovered immediately that my friend was quite as much interested in + the strike as Bill Hahn, but on the other side. He was, indeed, one of the + directors of the greatest mill in Kilburn—the very one which I had + seen the night before surrounded by armed sentinels. It was thrilling to + me, this knowledge, for it seemed to plump me down at once in the middle + of things—and soon, indeed, brought me nearer to the brink of great + events than ever I was before in all my days. + </p> + <p> + I could see that Mr. Vedder considered Bill Hahn as a sort of devouring + monster, a wholly incendiary and dangerous person. So terrible, indeed, + was the warning he gave me (considering me, I suppose an unsophisticated + person) that I couldn't help laughing outright. + </p> + <p> + “I assure you—” he began, apparently much offended. + </p> + <p> + But I interrupted him. + </p> + <p> + “I'm sorry I laughed,” I said, “but as you were talking about Bill Hahn, I + couldn't help thinking of him as I first saw him.” And I gave Mr. Vedder + as lively a description as I could of the little man with his bulging coat + tails, his furry ears, his odd round spectacles. He was greatly interested + in what I said and began to ask many questions. I told him with all the + earnestness I could command of Bill's history and of his conversion to his + present beliefs. I found that Mr. Vedder had known Robert Winter very well + indeed, and was amazed at the incident which I narrated of Bill Hahn's + attempt upon his life. + </p> + <p> + I have always believed that if men could be made to understand one another + they would necessarily be friendly, so I did my best to explain Bill Hahn + to Mr. Vedder. + </p> + <p> + “I'm tremendously interested in what you say,” he said, “and we must have + more talk about it.” + </p> + <p> + He told me that he had now to put in an appearance at his office, and + wanted me to go with him; but upon my objection he pressed me to take + luncheon with him a little later, an invitation which I accepted with real + pleasure. + </p> + <p> + “We haven't had a word about gardens,” he said, “and there are no end of + things that Mrs. Vedder and I found that we wanted to talk with you about + after you had left us.” + </p> + <p> + “Well!” I said, much delighted, “let's have a regular old-fashioned + country talk.” + </p> + <p> + So we parted for the time being, and I set off in the highest spirits to + see something more of Kilburn. + </p> + <p> + A city, after all, is a very wonderful place. One thing, I recall, + impressed me powerfully that morning—the way in which every one was + working, apparently without any common agreement or any common purpose, + and yet with a high sort of understanding. The first hearing of a + difficult piece of music (to an uncultivated ear like mine) often yields + nothing but a confused sense of unrelated motives, but later and deeper + hearings reveal the harmony which ran so clear in the master's soul. + </p> + <p> + Something of this sort happened to me in looking out upon the life of that + great city of Kilburn. All about on the streets, in the buildings, under + ground and above ground, men were walking, running, creeping, crawling, + climbing, lifting, digging, driving, buying, selling, sweating, swearing, + praying, loving, hating, struggling, failing, sinning, repenting—all + working and living according to a vast harmony, which sometimes we can + catch clearly and sometimes miss entirely. I think, that morning, for a + time, I heard the true music of the spheres, the stars singing together. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Vedder took me to a quiet restaurant where we had a snug alcove all to + ourselves. I shall remember it always as one of the truly pleasant + experiences of my pilgrimage. + </p> + <p> + I could see that my friend was sorely troubled, that the strike rested + heavy upon him, and so I led the conversation to the hills and the roads + and the fields we both love so much. I plied him with a thousand questions + about his garden. I told him in the liveliest way of my adventures after + leaving his home, how I had telephoned him from the hills, how I had taken + a swim in the mill-pond, and especially how I had lost myself in the old + cowpasture, with an account of all my absurd and laughable adventures and + emotions. + </p> + <p> + Well, before we had finished our luncheon I had every line ironed from the + brow of that poor plagued rich man, I had brought jolly crinkles to the + corners of his eyes, and once or twice I had him chuckling down deep + inside (Where chuckles are truly effective). Talk about cheering up the + poor: I think the rich are usually far more in need of it! + </p> + <p> + But I couldn't keep the conversation in these delightful channels. + Evidently the strike and all that it meant lay heavy upon Mr. Vedder's + consciousness, for he pushed back his coffee and began talking about it, + almost in a tone of apology. He told me how kind he had tried to make the + mill management in its dealings with its men. + </p> + <p> + “I would not speak of it save in explanation of our true attitude of + helpfulness; but we have really given our men many advantages”—and + he told me of the reading-room the company had established, of the + visiting nurse they had employed, and of several other excellent + enterprises, which gave only another proof of what I knew already of Mr. + Vedder's sincere kindness of heart. + </p> + <p> + “But,” he said, “we find they don't appreciate what we try to do for + them.” + </p> + <p> + I laughed outright. + </p> + <p> + “Why,” I exclaimed, “you are having the same trouble I have had!” + </p> + <p> + “How's that?” he inquired, I thought a little sharply. Men don't like to + have their seriousness trifled with. + </p> + <p> + “No longer ago than this morning,” I said, “I had exactly that idea of + giving them advantages; but I found that the difficulty lies not with the + ability to give, but with the inability or unwillingness to take. You see + I have a great deal of surplus wealth myself—” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Vedder's eyes flickered up at me. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” I said. “I've got immense accumulations of the wealth of the ages—ingots + of Emerson and Whitman, for example, gems of Voltaire, and I can't tell + what other superfluous coinage!” (And I waved my hand in the most + grandiloquent manner.) “I've also quite a store of knowledge of corn and + calves and cucumbers, and I've a boundless domain of exceedingly valuable + landscapes. I am prepared to give bountifully of all these varied riches + (for I shall still have plenty remaining), but the fact is that this + generation of vipers doesn't appreciate what I am trying to do for them. + I'm really getting frightened, lest they permit me to perish from + undistributed riches!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Vedder was still smiling. + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” I said, warming up to my idea, “I'm a regular multimillionaire. I've + got so much wealth that I'm afraid I shall not be as fortunate as jolly + Andy Carnegie, for I don't see how I can possibly die poor!” + </p> + <p> + “Why not found a university or so?” asked Mr. Vedder. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I had thought of that. It's a good idea. Let's join our forces and + establish a university where truly serious people can take courses in + laughter.” + </p> + <p> + “Fine idea!” exclaimed Mr. Vedder; “but wouldn't it require an enormous + endowment to accommodate all the applicants? You must remember that this + is a very benighted and illiterate world, laughingly speaking.” + </p> + <p> + “It is, indeed,” I said, “but you must remember that many people, for a + long time, will be too serious to apply. I wonder sometimes if any one + ever learns to laugh really laugh much before he is forty.” + </p> + <p> + “But,” said Mr. Vedder anxiously, “do you think such an institution would + be accepted by the proletariat of the serious-minded?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, that's the trouble,” said I, “that's the trouble. The proletariat + doesn't appreciate what we are trying to do for them! They don't want your + reading-rooms nor my Emerson and cucumbers. The seat of the difficulty + seems to be that what seems wealth to us isn't necessarily wealth for the + other fellow.” + </p> + <p> + I cannot tell with what delight we fenced our way through this foolery + (which was not all foolery, either). I never met a man more quickly + responsive than Mr. Vedder. But he now paused for some moments, evidently + ruminating. + </p> + <p> + “Well, David,” he said seriously, “what are we going to do about this + obstreperous other fellow?” + </p> + <p> + “Why not try the experiment,” I suggested, “of giving him what he + considers wealth, instead of what you consider wealth?” + </p> + <p> + “But what does he consider wealth?” + </p> + <p> + “Equality,” said I. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Vedder threw up his hands. + </p> + <p> + “So you're a Socialist, too!” + </p> + <p> + “That,” I said, “is another story.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, supposing we did or could give him this equality you speak of—what + would become of us? What would we get out of it?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, equality, too!” I said. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Vedder threw up his hands up with a gesture of mock resignation. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” said he, “let's get down out of Utopia!” + </p> + <p> + We had some further good-humoured fencing and then returned to the + inevitable problem of the strike. While we were discussing the meeting of + the night before which, I learned, had been luridly reported in the + morning papers, Mr. Vedder suddenly turned to me and asked earnestly: + </p> + <p> + “Are you really a Socialist?” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said I, “I'm sure of one thing. I'm not ALL Socialist, Bill Hahn + believes with his whole soul (and his faith has made him a remarkable man) + that if only another class of people—his class—could come into + the control of material property, that all the ills that man is heir to + would be speedily cured. But I wonder if when men own property + collectively—as they are going to one of these days—they will + quarrel and hate one another any less than they do now. It is not the + ownership of material property that interests me so much as the + independence of it. When I started out from my farm on this pilgrimage it + seemed to me the most blessed thing in the world to get away from property + and possession.” + </p> + <p> + “What are you then, anyway?” asked Mr. Vedder, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I've thought of a name I would like to have applied to me + sometimes,” I said. “You see I'm tremendously fond of this world exactly + as it is now. Mr. Vedder, it's a wonderful and beautiful place! I've never + seen a better one. I confess I could not possibly live in the rarefied + atmosphere of a final solution. I want to live right here and now for all + I'm worth. The other day a man asked me what I thought was the best time + of life. 'Why,' I answered without a thought, 'Now.' It has always seemed + to me that if a man can't make a go of it, yes, and be happy at this + moment, he can't be at the next moment. But most of all, it seems to me, I + want to get close to people, to look into their hearts, and be friendly + with them. Mr. Vedder, do you know what I'd like to be called?” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot imagine,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'd like to be called an Introducer. My friend, Mr. Blacksmith, let + me introduce you to my friend, Mr. Plutocrat. I could almost swear that + you were brothers, so near alike are you! You'll find each other + wonderfully interesting once you get over the awkwardness of the + introduction. And Mr. White Man, let me present you particularly to my + good friend, Mr. Negro. You will see if you sit down to it that this + colour of the face is only skin deep.” + </p> + <p> + “It's a good name!” said Mr. Vedder, laughing. + </p> + <p> + “It's a wonderful name,” said I, “and it's about the biggest and finest + work in the world—to know human beings just as they are, and to make + them acquainted with one another just as they are. Why, it's the + foundation of all the democracy there is, or ever will be. Sometimes I + think that friendliness is the only achievement of life worth while—and + unfriendliness the only tragedy.” + </p> + <p> + I have since felt ashamed of myself when I thought how I lectured my + unprotected host that day at luncheon; but it seemed to boil out of me + irresistibly. The experiences of the past two days had stirred me to the + very depths, and it seemed to me I must explain to somebody how it all + impressed me—and to whom better than to my good friend Vedder? + </p> + <p> + As we were leaving the table an idea flashed across my mind which seemed, + at first, so wonderful that it quite turned me dizzy. + </p> + <p> + “See here, Mr. Vedder,” I exclaimed, “let me follow my occupation + practically. I know Bill Hahn and I know you. Let me introduce you. If you + could only get together, if you could only understand what good fellows + you both are, it might go far toward solving these difficulties.” + </p> + <p> + I had some trouble persuading him, but finally he consented, said he + wanted to leave no stone unturned, and that he would meet Bill Hahn and + some of the other leaders, if proper arrangements could be made. + </p> + <p> + I left him, therefore, in excitement, feeling that I was at the point of + playing a part in a very great event. “Once get these men together,” I + thought, “and they MUST come to an understanding.” + </p> + <p> + So I rushed out to the mill district, saying to myself over and over (I + have smiled about it since!): “We'll settle this strike: we'll settle this + strike: we'll settle this strike.” After some searching I found my friend + Bill in the little room over a saloon that served as strike headquarters. + A dozen or more of the leaders were there, faintly distinguishable through + clouds of tobacco smoke. Among them sat the great R—— D——, + his burly figure looming up at one end of the table, and his strong, + rough, iron-jawed face turning first toward this speaker and then toward + that. The discussion, which had evidently been lively, died down soon + after I appeared at the door, and Bill Hahn came out to me and we sat down + together in the adjoining room. Here I broke eagerly into an account of + the happenings of the day, described my chance meeting with Mr. Vedder—who + was well known to Bill by reputation—and finally asked him squarely + whether he would meet him. I think my enthusiasm quite carried him away. + </p> + <p> + “Sure, I will,” said Bill Hahn heartily. + </p> + <p> + “When and where?” I asked, “and will any of the other men join you?” + </p> + <p> + Bill was all enthusiasm at once, for that was the essence of his + temperament, but he said that he must first refer it to the committee. I + waited, in a tense state of impatience, for what seemed to me a very long + time; but finally the door opened and Bill Hahn came out bringing R—— + D—— himself with him. We all sat down together, and R—— + D—— began to ask questions (he was evidently suspicious as to + who and what I was); but I think, after I talked with them for some time + that I made them see the possibilities and the importance of such a + meeting. I was greatly impressed with R—— D——, the + calmness and steadiness of the man, his evident shrewdness. “A real + general,” I said to myself. “I should like to know him better.” + </p> + <p> + After a long talk they returned to the other room, closing the door behind + them, and I waited again, still more impatiently. + </p> + <p> + It seems rather absurd now, but at that moment I felt firmly convinced + that I was on the way to the permanent settlement of a struggle which had + occupied the best brains of Kilburn for many weeks. + </p> + <p> + While I was waiting in that dingy ante-room, the other door slowly opened + and a boy stuck his head in. + </p> + <p> + “Is David Grayson here?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Here he is,” said I, greatly astonished that any one in Kilburn should be + inquiring for me, or should know where I was. + </p> + <p> + The boy came in, looked at me with jolly round eyes for a moment, and dug + a letter out of his pocket. I opened it at once, and glancing at the + signature discovered that it was from Mr. Vedder. + </p> + <p> + “He said I'd probably find you at strike headquarters,” remarked the boy. + </p> + <p> + This was the letter: marked “Confidential.” + </p> + <p> + My Dear Grayson: I think you must be something of a hypnotist. After you + left me I began to think of the project you mentioned, and I have talked + it over with one or two of my associates. I would gladly hold this + conference, but it does not now seem wise for us to do so. The interests + we represent are too important to be jeopardized. In theory you are + undoubtedly right, but in this case I think you will agree with me (when + you think it over), we must not show any weakness. Come and stop with us + to-night: Mrs. Vedder will be overjoyed to see you and we'll have another + fine talk. + </p> + <p> + I confess I was a good deal cast down as I read this letter. + </p> + <p> + “What interests are so important?” I asked myself, “that they should keep + friends apart?” + </p> + <p> + But I was given only a moment for reflection for the door opened and my + friend Bill, together with R—— D—— and several + other members of the committee, came out. I put the letter in my pocket, + and for a moment my brain never worked under higher pressure. What should + I say to them now? How could I explain myself? + </p> + <p> + Bill Hahn was evidently labouring under considerable excitement, but R—— + D—— was as calm as a judge. He sat down in the chair opposite + and said to me: + </p> + <p> + “We've been figuring out this proposition of Mr. Vedder's. Your idea is + all right, and it would be a fine thing if we could really get together as + you suggest upon terms of common understanding and friendship.” + </p> + <p> + “Just what Mr. Vedder said,” I exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he continued, “it's all right in theory; but in this case it simply + won't work. Don't you see it's got to be war? Your friend and I could + probably understand each other—but this is a class war. It's all or + nothing with us, and your friend Vedder knows it as well as we do.” + </p> + <p> + After some further argument and explanation, I said: + </p> + <p> + “I see: and this is Socialism.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the great R—— D——, “this is + Socialism.” + </p> + <p> + “And it's force you would use,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “It's force THEY use,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + After I left the strike headquarters that evening—for it was almost + dark before I parted with the committee—I walked straight out + through the crowded streets, so absorbed in my thoughts that I did not + know in the least where I was going. The street lights came out, the + crowds began to thin away, I heard a strident song from a phonograph at + the entrance to a picture show, and as I passed again in front of the + great, dark, many-windowed mill which had made my friend Vedder a rich man + I saw a sentinel turn slowly at the corner. The light glinted on the steel + of his bayonet. He had a fresh, fine, boyish face. + </p> + <p> + “We have some distance yet to go in this world,” I said to myself, “no man + need repine for lack of good work ahead.” + </p> + <p> + It was only a little way beyond this mill that an incident occurred which + occupied probably not ten minutes of time, and yet I have thought about it + since I came home as much as I have thought about any other incident of my + pilgrimage. I have thought how I might have acted differently under the + circumstances, how I could have said this or how I ought to have done that—all, + of course, now to no purpose whatever. But I shall not attempt to tell + what I ought to have done or said, but what I actually did do and say on + the spur of the moment. + </p> + <p> + It was in a narrow, dark street which opened off the brightly lighted main + thoroughfare of that mill neighbourhood. A girl standing in the shadows + between two buildings said to me as I passed: + </p> + <p> + “Good evening.” + </p> + <p> + I stopped instantly, it was such a pleasant, friendly voice. + </p> + <p> + “Good evening,” I said, lifting my hat and wondering that there should be + any one here in this back street who knew me. + </p> + <p> + “Where are you going?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + I stepped over quickly toward her, hat in hand. She was a mere slip of a + girl, rather comely, I thought, with small childish features and a + half-timid, half-bold look in her eyes. I could not remember having seen + her before. + </p> + <p> + She smiled at me—and then I knew! + </p> + <p> + Well, if some one had struck me a brutal blow in the face I could not have + been more astonished. + </p> + <p> + We know of things!—and yet how little we know until they are + presented to us in concrete form. Just such a little school girl as I have + seen a thousand times in the country, the pathetic childish curve of the + chin, a small rebellious curl hanging low on her temple. + </p> + <p> + I could not say a word. The girl evidently saw in my face that something + was the matter, for she turned and began to move quickly away. Such a wave + of compassion (and anger, too) swept over me as I cannot well describe. I + stepped after her and asked in a low voice: + </p> + <p> + “Do you work in the mills?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, when there's work.” + </p> + <p> + “What is your name?” + </p> + <p> + “Maggie—” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Maggie,” I said, “let's be friends.” + </p> + <p> + She looked around at me curiously, questioningly. + </p> + <p> + “And friends,” I said, “should know something about each other. You see I + am a farmer from the country. I used to live in a city myself, a good many + years ago, but I got tired and sick and hopeless. There was so much that + was wrong about it. I tried to keep the pace and could not. I wish I could + tell you what the country has done for me.” + </p> + <p> + We were walking along slowly, side by side, the girl perfectly passive but + glancing around at me from time to time with a wondering look. I don't + know in the least now what prompted me to do it, but I began telling in a + quiet, low voice—for, after all, she was only a child—I began + telling her about our chickens at the farm and how Harriet had named them + all, and one was Frances E. Willard, and one, a speckled one, was Martha + Washington, and I told her of the curious antics of Martha Washington and + of the number of eggs she laid, and of the sweet new milk we had to drink, + and the honey right out of our own hives, and of the things growing in the + garden. + </p> + <p> + Once she smiled a little, and once she looked around at me with a curious, + timid, half-wistful expression in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Maggie,” I said, “I wish you could go to the country.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish to God I could,” she replied. + </p> + <p> + We walked for a moment in silence. My head was whirling with thoughts: + again I had that feeling of helplessness, of inadequacy, which I had felt + so sharply on the previous evening. What could I do? + </p> + <p> + When we reached the corner, I said: + </p> + <p> + “Maggie, I will see you safely home.” + </p> + <p> + She laughed—a hard, bitter laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don't need any one to show me around these streets!” + </p> + <p> + “I will see you home,” I said. + </p> + <p> + So we walked quickly along the street together. + </p> + <p> + “Here it is,” she said finally, pointing to a dark, mean-looking, + one-story house, set in a dingy, barren areaway. + </p> + <p> + “Well, good night, Maggie,” I said, “and good luck to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Good night,” she said faintly. + </p> + <p> + When I had walked to the corner, I stopped and looked back. She was + standing stock-still just where I had left her—a figure I shall + never forget. + </p> + <p> + I have hesitated about telling of a further strange thing that happened to + me that night—but have decided at last to put it in. I did not + accept Mr. Vedder's invitation: I could not; but I returned to the room in + the tenement where I had spent the previous night with Bill Hahn the + Socialist. It was a small, dark, noisy room, but I was so weary that I + fell almost immediately into a heavy sleep. An hour or more later I don't + know how long indeed—I was suddenly awakened and found myself + sitting bolt upright in bed. It was close and dark and warm there in the + room, and from without came the muffled sounds of the city. For an instant + I waited, rigid with expectancy. And then I heard as clearly and plainly + as ever I heard anything: + </p> + <p> + “David! David!” in my sister Harriet's voice. + </p> + <p> + It was exactly the voice in which she has called me a thousand times. + Without an instant's hesitation, I stepped out of bed and called out: + </p> + <p> + “I'm coming, Harriet! I'm coming!” + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter?” inquired Bill Hahn sleepily. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing,” I replied, and crept back into bed. + </p> + <p> + It may have been the result of the strain and excitement of the previous + two days. I don't explain it—I can only tell what happened. + </p> + <p> + Before I went to sleep again I determined to start straight for home in + the morning: and having decided, I turned over, drew a long, comfortable + breath and did not stir again, I think, until long after the morning sun + shone in at the window. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. THE RETURN + </h2> + <h3> + “Everything divine runs with light feet.” + </h3> + <p> + Surely the chief delight of going away from home is the joy of getting + back again. I shall never forget that spring morning when I walked from + the city of Kilburn into the open country, my bag on my back, a song in my + throat, and the gray road stretching straight before me. I remember how + eagerly I looked out across the fields and meadows and rested my eyes upon + the distant hills. How roomy it all was! I looked up into the clear blue + of the sky. There was space here to breathe, and distances in which the + spirit might spread its wings. As the old prophet says, it was a place + where a man might be placed alone in the midst of the earth. + </p> + <p> + I was strangely glad that morning of every little stream that ran under + the bridges, I was glad of the trees I passed, glad of every bird and + squirrel in the branches, glad of the cattle grazing in the fields, glad + of the jolly boys I saw on their way to school with their dinner pails, + glad of the bluff, red-faced teamster I met, and of the snug farmer who + waved his hand at me and wished me a friendly good morning. It seemed to + me that I liked every one I saw, and that every one liked me. + </p> + <p> + So I walked onward that morning, nor ever have had such a sense of relief + and escape, nor ever such a feeling of gayety. + </p> + <p> + “Here is where I belong,” I said. “This is my own country. Those hills are + mine, and all the fields, and the trees and the sky—and the road + here belongs to me as much as it does to any one.” + </p> + <p> + Coming presently to a small house near the side of the road, I saw a woman + working with a trowel in her sunny garden. It was good to see her turn + over the warm brown soil; it was good to see the plump green rows of + lettuce and the thin green rows of onions, and the nasturtiums and sweet + peas; it was good—after so many days in that desert of a city—to + get a whiff of blossoming things. I stood for a moment looking quietly + over the fence before the woman saw me. When at last she turned and looked + up, I said: + </p> + <p> + “Good morning.” + </p> + <p> + She paused, trowel in hand. + </p> + <p> + “Good morning,” she replied; “you look happy.” + </p> + <p> + I wasn't conscious that I was smiling outwardly. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I am,” I said; “I'm going home.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you OUGHT to be happy,” said she. + </p> + <p> + “And I'm glad to escape THAT,” and I pointed toward the city. + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, that old monster lying there in the valley.” + </p> + <p> + I could see that she was surprised and even a little alarmed. So I began + intently to admire her young cabbages and comment on the perfection of her + geraniums. But I caught her eying me from time to time as I leaned there + on the fence, and I knew that she would come back sooner or later to my + remark about the monster. Having shocked your friend (not too + unpleasantly), abide your time, and he will want to be shocked again. So I + was not at all surprised to hear her ask: + </p> + <p> + “Have you travelled far?” + </p> + <p> + “I should say so!” I replied. “I've been on a very long journey. I've seen + many strange sights and met many wonderful people.” + </p> + <p> + “You may have been in California, then. I have a daughter in California.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said I, “I was never in California.” + </p> + <p> + “You've been a long time from home, you say?” + </p> + <p> + “A very long time from home.” + </p> + <p> + “How long?” + </p> + <p> + “Three weeks.” + </p> + <p> + “Three weeks! And how far did you say you had travelled?” + </p> + <p> + “At the farthest point, I should say sixty miles from home.” + </p> + <p> + “But how can you say that in travelling only sixty miles and being gone + three weeks that you have seen so many strange places and people?” + </p> + <p> + “Why,” I exclaimed, “haven't you seen anything strange around here?'” + </p> + <p> + “Why, no—” glancing quickly around her. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'm strange, am I not?” + </p> + <p> + “Well—” + </p> + <p> + “And you're strange.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at me with the utmost amazement. I could scarcely keep from + laughing. + </p> + <p> + “I assure you,” I said, “that if you travel a thousand miles you will find + no one stranger than I am—or you are—nor anything more + wonderful than all this—” and I waved my hand. + </p> + <p> + This time she looked really alarmed, glancing quickly toward the house, so + that I began to laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Madam,” I said, “good morning!” + </p> + <p> + So I left her standing there by the fence looking after me, and I went on + down the road. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” I said, “she'll have something new to talk about. It may add a + month to her life. Was there ever such an amusing world!” + </p> + <p> + About noon that day I had an adventure that I have to laugh over every + time I think of it. It was unusual, too, as being almost the only incident + of my journey which was of itself in the least thrilling or out of the + ordinary. Why, this might have made an item in the country paper! + </p> + <p> + For the first time on my trip I saw a man that I really felt like calling + a tramp—a tramp in the generally accepted sense of the term. When I + left home I imagined I should meet many tramps, and perhaps learn from + them odd and curious things about life; but when I actually came into + contact with the shabby men of the road, I began to be puzzled. What was a + tramp, anyway? + </p> + <p> + I found them all strangely different, each with his own distinctive + history, and each accounting for himself as logically as I could for + myself. And save for the fact that in none of them I met were the outward + graces and virtues too prominently displayed, I have come back quite + uncertain as to what a scientist might call type-characteristics. I had + thought of following Emerson in his delightfully optimistic definition of + a weed. A weed, he says, is a plant whose virtues have not been + discovered. A tramp, then, is a man whose virtues have not been + discovered. Or, I might follow my old friend the Professor (who dearly + loves all growing things) in his even kindlier definition of a weed. He + says that it is merely a plant misplaced. The virility of this definition + has often impressed me when I have tried to grub the excellent and useful + horseradish plants out of my asparagus bed! Let it be then—a tramp + is a misplaced man, whose virtues have not been discovered. + </p> + <p> + Whether this is an adequate definition or not, it fitted admirably the man + I overtook that morning on the road. He was certainly misplaced, and + during my brief but exciting experience with him I discovered no virtues + whatever. + </p> + <p> + In one way he was quite different from the traditional tramp. He walked + with far too lively a step, too jauntily, and he had with him a small, + shaggy, nondescript dog, a dog as shabby as he, trotting close at his + heels. He carried a light stick, which he occasionally twirled over in his + hand. As I drew nearer I could hear him whistling and even, from time to + time, breaking into a lively bit of song. What a devil-may-care chap he + seemed, anyway! I was greatly interested. + </p> + <p> + When at length I drew alongside he did not seem in the least surprised. He + turned, glanced at me with his bold black eyes, and broke out again into + the song he was singing. And these were the words of his song—at + least, all I can remember of them: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Oh, I'm so fine and gay, + I'm so fine and gay, + I have to take a dog along, + To kape the ga-irls away. +</pre> + <p> + What droll zest he put into it! He had a red nose, a globular red nose set + on his face like an overgrown strawberry, and from under the worst derby + hat in the world burst his thick curly hair. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I'm so fine and gay,” he sang, stepping to the rhythm of his song, + and looking the very image of good-humoured impudence. I can't tell how + amused and pleased I was—though if I had known what was to happen + later I might not have been quite so friendly—yes, I would too! + </p> + <p> + We fell into conversation, and it wasn't long before I suggested that we + stop for luncheon together somewhere along the road. He cast a quick + appraising eye at my bag, and assented with alacrity. We climbed a fence + and found a quiet spot near a little brook. + </p> + <p> + I was much astonished to observe the resources of my jovial companion. + Although he carried neither bag nor pack and appeared to have nothing + whatever in his pockets, he proceeded, like a professional + prestidigitator, to produce from his shabby clothing an extraordinary + number of curious things—a black tin can with a wire handle, a small + box of matches, a soiled package which I soon learned contained tea, a + miraculously big dry sausage wrapped in an old newspaper, and a + clasp-knife. I watched him with breathless interest. + </p> + <p> + He cut a couple of crotched sticks to hang the pail on and in two or three + minutes had a little fire, no larger than a man's hand, burning brightly + under it. (“Big fires,” said he wisely, “are not for us.”) This he fed + with dry twigs, and in a very few minutes he had a pot of tea from which + he offered me the first drink. This, with my luncheon and part of his + sausage, made up a very good meal. + </p> + <p> + While we were eating, the little dog sat sedately by the fire. From time + to time his master would say, “Speak, Jimmy.” + </p> + <p> + Jimmy would sit up on his haunches, his two front paws hanging limp, turn + his head to one side in the drollest way imaginable and give a yelp. His + master would toss him a bit of sausage or bread and he would catch it with + a snap. + </p> + <p> + “Fine dog!” commented my companion. + </p> + <p> + “So he seems,” said I. + </p> + <p> + After the meal was over my companion proceeded to produce other surprises + from his pockets—a bag of tobacco, a brier pipe (which he kindly + offered to me and which I kindly refused), and a soiled packet of + cigarette papers. Having rolled a cigarette with practised facility, he + leaned up against a tree, took off his hat, lighted the cigarette and, + having taken a long draw at it, blew the smoke before him with an + incredible air of satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + “Solid comfort this here—hey!” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + We had some further talk, but for so jovial a specimen he was surprisingly + uncommunicative. Indeed, I think he soon decided that I somehow did not + belong to the fraternity, that I was a “farmer”—in the most + opprobrious sense—and he soon began to drowse, rousing himself once + or twice to roll another cigarette, but finally dropping (apparently, at + least) fast asleep. + </p> + <p> + I was glad enough of the rest and quiet after the strenuous experience of + the last two days—and I, too, soon began to drowse. It didn't seem + to me then that I lost consciousness at all, but I suppose I must have + done so, for when I suddenly opened my eyes and sat up my companion had + vanished. How he succeeded in gathering up his pail and packages so + noiselessly and getting away so quickly is a mystery to me. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” I said, “that's odd.” + </p> + <p> + Rousing myself deliberately I put on my hat and was about to take up my + bag when I suddenly discovered that it was open. My rain-cape was missing! + It wasn't a very good rain-cape, but it was missing. + </p> + <p> + At first I was inclined to be angry, but when I thought of my jovial + companion and the cunning way in which he had tricked me, I couldn't help + laughing. At the same time I jumped up quickly and ran down the road. + </p> + <p> + “I may get him yet,” I said. + </p> + <p> + Just as I stepped out of the woods I caught a glimpse of a man some + hundreds of yards away, turning quickly from the main road into a lane or + by-path. I wasn't altogether sure that he was my man, but I ran across the + road and climbed the fence. I had formed the plan instantly of cutting + across the field and so striking the by-road farther up the hill. I had a + curious sense of amused exultation, the very spirit of the chase, and my + mind dwelt with the liveliest excitement on what I should say or do if I + really caught that jolly spark of impudence. + </p> + <p> + So I came by way of a thicket along an old stone fence to the by-road, and + there, sure enough, only a little way ahead of me, was my man with the + shaggy little dog close at his heels. He was making pretty good time, but + I skirted swiftly along the edge of the road until I had nearly overtaken + him. Then I slowed down to a walk and stepped out into the middle of the + road. I confess my heart was pounding at a lively rate. The next time he + looked behind him—guiltily enough, too!—I said in the calmest + voice I could command: + </p> + <p> + “Well, brother, you almost left me behind.” + </p> + <p> + He stopped and I stepped up to him. + </p> + <p> + I wish I could describe the look in his face—mingled astonishment, + fear, and defiance. + </p> + <p> + “My friend,” I said, “I'm disappointed in you.” + </p> + <p> + He made no reply. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I'm disappointed. You did such a very poor job.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor job!” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” I said, and I slipped my bag off my shoulder and began to rummage + inside. My companion watched me silently and suspiciously. + </p> + <p> + “You should not have left the rubbers.” + </p> + <p> + With that I handed him my old rubbers. A peculiar expression came into the + man's face. + </p> + <p> + “Say, pardner, what you drivin' at?” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” I said, “I don't like to see such evidences of haste and + inefficiency.” + </p> + <p> + He stood staring at me helplessly, holding my old rubbers at arm's length. + </p> + <p> + “Come on now,” I said, “that's over. We'll walk along together.” + </p> + <p> + I was about to take his arm, but quick as a flash he dodged, cast both + rubbers and rain-cape away from him, and ran down the road for all he was + worth, the little dog, looking exactly like a rolling ball of fur, pelting + after him. He never once glanced back, but ran for his life. I stood there + and laughed until the tears came, and ever since then, at the thought of + the expression on the jolly rover's face when I gave him my rubbers, I've + had to smile. I put the rain-cape and rubbers back into my bag and turned + again to the road. + </p> + <p> + Before the afternoon was nearly spent I found myself very tired, for my + two days' experience in the city had been more exhausting for me, I think, + than a whole month of hard labour on my farm. I found haven with a + friendly farmer, whom I joined while he was driving his cows in from the + pasture. I helped him with his milking both that night and the next + morning, and found his situation and family most interesting—but I + shall not here enlarge upon that experience. + </p> + <p> + It was late afternoon when I finally surmounted the hill from which I knew + well enough I could catch the first glimpse of my farm. For a moment after + I reached the top I could not raise my eyes, and when finally I was able + to raise them I could not see. + </p> + <p> + “There is a spot in Arcady—a spot in Arcady—a spot in Arcady—” + So runs the old song. + </p> + <p> + There IS a spot in Arcady, and at the centre of it there is a weather-worn + old house, and not far away a perfect oak tree, and green fields all + about, and a pleasant stream fringed with alders in the little valley. And + out of the chimney into the sweet, still evening air rises the slow white + smoke of the supper-fire. + </p> + <p> + I turned from the main road, and climbed the fence and walked across my + upper field to the old wood lane. The air was heavy and sweet with clover + blossoms, and along the fences I could see that the raspberry bushes were + ripening their fruit. + </p> + <p> + So I came down the lane and heard the comfortable grunting of pigs in the + pasture lot and saw the calves licking one another as they stood at the + gate. + </p> + <p> + “How they've grown!” I said. + </p> + <p> + I stopped at the corner of the barn for a moment. From within I heard the + rattling of milk in a pail (a fine sound), and heard a man's voice saying: + </p> + <p> + “Whoa, there! Stiddy now!” + </p> + <p> + “Dick's milking,” I said. + </p> + <p> + So I stepped in at the doorway. + </p> + <p> + “Lord, Mr. Grayson!” exclaimed Dick, rising instantly and clasping my hand + like a long-lost brother. + </p> + <p> + “I'm glad to see you!” + </p> + <p> + “I'm glad to see YOU!” + </p> + <p> + The warm smell of the new milk, the pleasant sound of animals stepping + about in the stable, the old mare reaching her long head over the + stanchion to welcome me, and nipping at my fingers when I rubbed her nose— + </p> + <p> + And there was the old house with the late sun upon it, the vines hanging + green over the porch, Harriet's trim flower bed—I crept along + quietly to the corner. The kitchen door stood open. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Harriet!” I said, stepping inside. + </p> + <p> + “Mercy! David!” + </p> + <p> + I have rarely known Harriet to be in quite such a reckless mood. She kept + thinking of a new kind of sauce or jam for supper (I think there were + seven, or were there twelve? on the table before I got through). And there + was a new rhubarb pie such as only Harriet can make, just brown enough on + top, and not too brown, with just the right sort of hills and hummocks in + the crust, and here and there little sugary bubbles where a suggestion of + the goodness came through—such a pie—! and such an appetite to + go with it! + </p> + <p> + “Harriet,” I said, “you're spoiling me. Haven't you heard how dangerous it + is to set such a supper as this before a man who is perishing with hunger? + Have you no mercy for me?” + </p> + <p> + This remark produced the most extraordinary effect. Harriet was at that + moment standing in the corner near the pump. Her shoulders suddenly began + to shake convulsively. + </p> + <p> + “She's so glad I'm home that she can't help laughing,” I thought, which + shows how penetrating I really am. + </p> + <p> + She was crying. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Harriet!” I exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Hungry!” she burst out, “and j-joking about it!” + </p> + <p> + I couldn't say a single word; something—it must have been a piece of + the rhubarb pie—stuck in my throat. So I sat there and watched her + moving quietly about in that immaculate kitchen. After a time I walked + over to where she stood by the table and put my arm around her quickly. + She half turned her head, in her quick, businesslike way. I noted how firm + and clean and sweet her face was. + </p> + <p> + “Harriet,” I said, “you grow younger every year.” + </p> + <p> + No response. + </p> + <p> + “Harriet,” I said, “I haven't seen a single person anywhere on my journey + that I like as much as I do you.” + </p> + <p> + The quick blood came up. + </p> + <p> + “There—there—David!” she said. + </p> + <p> + So I stepped away. + </p> + <p> + “And as for rhubarb pie, Harriet—” + </p> + <p> + When I first came to my farm years ago there were mornings when I woke up + with the strong impression that I had just been hearing the most exquisite + sounds of music. I don't know whether this is at all a common experience, + but in those days (and farther back in my early boyhood) I had it + frequently. It did not seem exactly like music either, but was rather a + sense of harmony, so wonderful, so pervasive that it cannot be described. + I have not had it so often in recent years, but on the morning after I + reached home it came to me as I awakened with a strange depth and + sweetness. I lay for a moment there in my clean bed. The morning sun was + up and coming in cheerfully through the vines at the window; a gentle + breeze stirred the clean white curtains, and I could smell even there the + odours of the garden. + </p> + <p> + I wish I had room to tell, but I cannot, of all the crowded experiences of + that day—the renewal of acquaintance with the fields, the cattle, + the fowls, the bees, of my long talks with Harriet and Dick Sheridan, who + had cared for my work while I was away; of the wonderful visit of the + Scotch Preacher, of Horace's shrewd and whimsical comments upon the + general absurdity of the head of the Grayson family—oh, of a + thousand things—and how when I went into my study and took up the + nearest book in my favourite case—it chanced to be “The Bible in + Spain”—it opened of itself at one of my favourite passages, the one + beginning: + </p> + <p> + “Mistos amande, I am content—” + </p> + <p> + So it's all over! It has been a great experience; and it seems to me now + that I have a firmer grip on life, and a firmer trust in that Power which + orders the ages. In a book I read not long ago, called “A Modern Utopia,” + the writer provides in his imaginary perfect state of society a class of + leaders known as Samurai. And, from time to time, it is the custom of + these Samurai to cut themselves loose from the crowding world of men, and + with packs on their backs go away alone to far places in the deserts or on + Arctic ice caps. I am convinced that every man needs some such change as + this, an opportunity to think things out, to get a new grip on life, and a + new hold on God. But not for me the Arctic ice cap or the desert! I choose + the Friendly Road—and all the common people who travel in it or live + along it—I choose even the busy city at the end of it. + </p> + <p> + I assure you, friend, that it is a wonderful thing for a man to cast + himself freely for a time upon the world, not knowing where his next meal + is coming from, nor where he is going to sleep for the night. It is a + surprising readjuster of values. I paid my way, I think, throughout my + pilgrimage; but I discovered that stamped metal is far from being the + world's only true coin. As a matter of fact, there are many things that + men prize more highly—because they are rarer and more precious. + </p> + <p> + My friend, if you should chance yourself some day to follow the Friendly + Road, you may catch a fleeting glimpse of a man in a rusty hat, carrying a + gray bag, and sometimes humming a little song under his breath for the joy + of being there. And it may actually happen, if you stop him, that he will + take a tin whistle from his bag and play for you, “Money Musk,” or “Old + Dan Tucker,” or he may produce a battered old volume of Montaigne from + which he will read you a passage. If such an adventure should befall you, + know that you have met + </p> + <p> + Your friend, + </p> + <p> + David Grayson. + </p> + <p> + P. S.—Harriet bemoans most of all the unsolved mystery of the sign + man. But it doesn't bother me in the least. I'm glad now I never found + him. The poet sings his song and goes his way. If we sought him out how + horribly disappointed we might be! We might find him shaving, or eating + sausage, or drinking a bottle of beer. We might find him shaggy and + unkempt where we imagined him beautiful, weak where we thought him strong, + dull where we thought him brilliant. Take then the vintage of his heart + and let him go. As for me, I'm glad some mystery is left in this world. A + thousand signs on my roadways are still as unexplainable, as mysterious, + and as beguiling as this. And I can close my narrative with no better + motto for tired spirits than that of the country roadside: + </p> + <p> + [ REST ] <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Friendly Road, by +(AKA David Grayson) Ray Stannard Baker + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FRIENDLY ROAD *** + +***** This file should be named 2479-h.htm or 2479-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/4/7/2479/ + +Produced by Aaron Cannon, and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Friendly Road + New Adventures in Contentment + +Author: (AKA David Grayson) Ray Stannard Baker + +Posting Date: December 13, 2008 [EBook #2479] +Release Date: February, 2001 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FRIENDLY ROAD *** + + + + +Produced by Aaron Cannon + + + + + +THE FRIENDLY ROAD + +New Adventures in Contentment + +By David Grayson (Pseud. of Ray Stannard Baker) + + + Author of + "Adventure in Contentment," + "Adventures in Friendship" + +Illustrated by Thomas Fogarty + +Copyright, 1913, by DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY + + + "Surely it is good to be alive at a time like this." + + + + +THE FRIENDLY ROAD + + + + +A WORD TO HIM WHO OPENS THIS BOOK + +I did not plan when I began writing these chapters to make an entire +book, but only to put down the more or less unusual impressions, the +events and adventures, of certain quiet pilgrimages in country roads. +But when I had written down all of these things, I found I had material +in plenty. + +"What shall I call it now that I have written it?" I asked myself. + +At first I thought I should call it "Adventures on the Road," or "The +Country Road," or something equally simple, for I would not have the +title arouse any appetite which the book itself could not satisfy. One +pleasant evening I was sitting on my porch with my dog sleeping near me, +and Harriet not far away rocking and sewing, and as I looked out across +the quiet fields I could see in the distance a curving bit of the town +road. I could see the valley below it and the green hill beyond, and +my mind went out swiftly along the country road which I had so recently +travelled on foot, and I thought with deep satisfaction of all the +people I had met on my pilgrimages--the Country Minister with his +problems, the buoyant Stanleys, Bill Hahn the Socialist, the Vedders in +their garden, the Brush Peddler. I thought of the Wonderful City, and of +how for a time I had been caught up into its life. I thought of the +men I met at the livery stable, especially Healy, the wit, and of that +strange Girl of the Street. And it was good to think of them all living +around me, not so very far away, connected with me through darkness and +space by a certain mysterious human cord. Most of all I love that which +I cannot see beyond the hill. + +"Harriet," I said aloud, "it grows more wonderful every year how full +the world is of friendly people!" + +So I got up quickly and came in here to my room, and taking a fresh +sheet of paper I wrote down the title of my new book: + +"The Friendly Road." + +I invite you to travel with me upon this friendly road. You may find, +as I did, something which will cause you for a time, to forget yourself +into contentment. But if you chance to be a truly serious person, put +down my book. Let nothing stay your hurried steps, nor keep you from +your way. + +As for those of us who remain, we will loiter as much as ever we please. +We'll take toll of these spring days, we'll stop wherever evening +overtakes us, we'll eat the food of hospitality--and make friends for +life! + +DAVID GRAYSON. + + + +CONTENTS + +Preface + + I. I Leave My Farm + + II. I Whistle + + III. The House by the Side of the Road + + IV. I Am the Spectator of a Mighty Battle, in which Christian + Meets Apollyon + + V. I Play the Part of a Spectacle Peddler + + VI. An Experiment in Human Nature + + VII. The Undiscovered Country + + VIII. The Hedge + + IX. The Man Possessed + + X. I Am Caught Up Into Life + + XI. I Come to Grapple with the City + + XII. The Return + + + + +CHAPTER I. I LEAVE MY FARM + + "Is it so small a thing + To have enjoyed the sun, + To have lived light in spring?" + +It is eight o'clock of a sunny spring morning. I have been on the road +for almost three hours. At five I left the town of Holt, before six I +had crossed the railroad at a place called Martin's Landing, and an hour +ago, at seven, I could see in the distance the spires of Nortontown. And +all the morning as I came tramping along the fine country roads with my +pack-strap resting warmly on my shoulder, and a song in my throat--just +nameless words to a nameless tune--and all the birds singing, and all +the brooks bright under their little bridges, I knew that I must soon +step aside and put down, if I could, some faint impression of the +feeling of this time and place. I cannot hope to convey any adequate +sense of it all--of the feeling of lightness, strength, clearness, I +have as I sit here under this maple tree--but I am going to write as +long as ever I am happy at it, and when I am no longer happy at it, why, +here at my very hand lies the pleasant country road, stretching away +toward newer hills and richer scenes. + +Until to-day I have not really been quite clear in my own mind as to the +step I have taken. My sober friend, have you ever tried to do anything +that the world at large considers not quite sensible, not quite sane? +Try it! It is easier to commit a thundering crime. A friend of mine +delights in walking to town bareheaded, and I fully believe the +neighbourhood is more disquieted thereby than it would be if my friend +came home drunken or failed to pay his debts. + +Here I am then, a farmer, forty miles from home in planting time, taking +his ease under a maple tree and writing in a little book held on his +knee! Is not that the height of absurdity? Of all my friends the Scotch +Preacher was the only one who seemed to understand why it was that I +must go away for a time. Oh, I am a sinful and revolutionary person! + +When I left home last week, if you could have had a truthful picture of +me--for is there not a photography so delicate that it will catch the +dim thought-shapes which attend upon our lives?--if you could have had +such a truthful picture of me, you would have seen, besides a farmer +named Grayson with a gray bag hanging from his shoulder, a strange +company following close upon his steps. Among this crew you would have +made out easily: + +Two fine cows. Four Berkshire pigs. One team of gray horses, the +old mare a little lame in her right foreleg. About fifty hens, four +cockerels, and a number of ducks and geese. + +More than this--I shall offer no explanation in these writings of any +miracles that may appear--you would have seen an entirely respectable +old farmhouse bumping and hobbling along as best it might in the rear. +And in the doorway, Harriet Grayson, in her immaculate white apron, with +the veritable look in her eyes which she wears when I am not comporting +myself with quite the proper decorum. + +Oh, they would not let me go! How they all followed clamoring after me. +My thoughts coursed backward faster than ever I could run away. If you +could have heard that motley crew of the barnyard as I did--the hens +all cackling, the ducks quacking, the pigs grunting, and the old mare +neighing and stamping, you would have thought it a miracle that I +escaped at all. + +So often we think in a superior and lordly manner of our possessions, +when, as a matter of fact, we do not really possess them, they possess +us. For ten years I have been the humble servant, attending upon the +commonest daily needs of sundry hens, ducks, geese, pigs, bees, and of +a fussy and exacting old gray mare. And the habit of servitude, I find, +has worn deep scars upon me. I am almost like the life prisoner who +finds the door of his cell suddenly open, and fears to escape. Why, I +had almost become ALL farmer. + +On the first morning after I left home I awoke as usual about five +o'clock with the irresistible feeling that I must do the milking. So +well disciplined had I become in my servitude that I instinctively +thrust my leg out of bed--but pulled it quickly back in again, turned +over, drew a long, luxurious breath, and said to myself: + +"Avaunt cows! Get thee behind me, swine! Shoo, hens!" + +Instantly the clatter of mastery to which I had responded so quickly +for so many years grew perceptibly fainter, the hens cackled less +domineeringly, the pigs squealed less insistently, and as for the +strutting cockerel, that lordly and despotic bird stopped fairly in the +middle of a crow, and his voice gurgled away in a spasm of astonishment. +As for the old farmhouse, it grew so dim I could scarcely see it at all! +Having thus published abroad my Declaration of Independence, nailed my +defiance to the door, and otherwise established myself as a free person, +I turned over in my bed and took another delicious nap. + +Do you know, friend, we can be free of many things that dominate our +lives by merely crying out a rebellious "Avaunt!" + +But in spite of this bold beginning, I assure you it required several +days to break the habit of cows and hens. The second morning I awakened +again at five o'clock, but my leg did not make for the side of the +bed; the third morning I was only partially awakened, and on the fourth +morning I slept like a millionaire (or at least I slept as a millionaire +is supposed to sleep!) until the clock struck seven. + +For some days after I left home--and I walked out as casually that +morning as though I were going to the barn--I scarcely thought or +tried to think of anything but the Road. Such an unrestrained sense of +liberty, such an exaltation of freedom, I have not known since I was a +lad. When I came to my farm from the city many years ago it was as one +bound, as one who had lost out in the World's battle and was seeking +to get hold again somewhere upon the realities of life. I have related +elsewhere how I thus came creeping like one sore wounded from the field +of battle, and how, among our hills, in the hard, steady labour in the +soil of the fields, with new and simple friends around me, I found a +sort of rebirth or resurrection. I that was worn out, bankrupt both +physically and morally, learned to live again. I have achieved something +of high happiness in these years, something I know of pure contentment; +and I have learned two or three deep and simple things about life: I +have learned that happiness is not to be had for the seeking, but comes +quietly to him who pauses at his difficult task and looks upward. I have +learned that friendship is very simple, and, more than all else, I have +learned the lesson of being quiet, of looking out across the meadows and +hills, and of trusting a little in God. + +And now, for the moment, I am regaining another of the joys of +youth--that of the sense of perfect freedom. I made no plans when I +left home, I scarcely chose the direction in which I was to travel, +but drifted out, as a boy might, into the great busy world. Oh, I have +dreamed of that! It seems almost as though, after ten years, I might +again really touch the highest joys of adventure! + +So I took the Road as it came, as a man takes a woman, for better or +worse--I took the Road, and the farms along it, and the sleepy little +villages, and the streams from the hillsides--all with high enjoyment. +They were good coin in my purse! And when I had passed the narrow +horizon of my acquaintanceship, and reached country new to me, it seemed +as though every sense I had began to awaken. I must have grown dull, +unconsciously, in the last years there on my farm. I cannot describe the +eagerness of discovery I felt at climbing each new hill, nor the long +breath I took at the top of it as I surveyed new stretches of pleasant +countryside. + +Assuredly this is one of the royal moments of all the year--fine, cool, +sparkling spring weather. I think I never saw the meadows richer and +greener--and the lilacs are still blooming, and the catbirds and orioles +are here. The oaks are not yet in full leaf, but the maples have nearly +reached their full mantle of verdure--they are very beautiful and +charming to see. + +It is curious how at this moment of the year all the world seems astir. +I suppose there is no moment in any of the seasons when the whole army +of agriculture, regulars and reserves, is so fully drafted for service +in the fields. And all the doors and windows, both in the little +villages and on the farms, stand wide open to the sunshine, and all the +women and girls are busy in the yards and gardens. Such a fine, active, +gossipy, adventurous world as it is at this moment of the year! + +It is the time, too, when all sorts of travelling people are afoot. +People who have been mewed up in the cities for the winter now take to +the open road--all the peddlers and agents and umbrella-menders, all the +nursery salesmen and fertilizer agents, all the tramps and scientists +and poets--all abroad in the wide sunny roads. They, too, know well this +hospitable moment of the spring; they, too, know that doors and hearts +are open and that even into dull lives creeps a bit of the spirit of +adventure. Why, a farmer will buy a corn planter, feed a tramp, or +listen to a poet twice as easily at this time of year as at any other! + +For several days I found myself so fully occupied with the bustling life +of the Road that I scarcely spoke to a living soul, but strode straight +ahead. The spring has been late and cold: most of the corn and some of +the potatoes are not yet in, and the tobacco lands are still bare and +brown. Occasionally I stopped to watch some ploughman in the fields: +I saw with a curious, deep satisfaction how the moist furrows, freshly +turned, glistened in the warm sunshine. There seemed to be something +right and fit about it, as well as human and beautiful. Or at evening +I would stop to watch a ploughman driving homeward across his new brown +fields, raising a cloud of fine dust from the fast drying furrow +crests. The low sun shining through the dust and glorifying it, the +weary-stepping horses, the man all sombre-coloured like the earth +itself and knit into the scene as though a part of it, made a picture +exquisitely fine to see. + +And what a joy I had also of the lilacs blooming in many a dooryard, the +odour often trailing after me for a long distance in the road, and of +the pungent scent at evening in the cool hollows of burning brush +heaps and the smell of barnyards as I went by--not unpleasant, not +offensive--and above all, the deep, earthy, moist odour of new-ploughed +fields. + +And then, at evening, to hear the sound of voices from the dooryards as +I pass quite unseen; no words, but just pleasant, quiet intonations of +human voices, borne through the still air, or the low sounds of cattle +in the barnyards, quieting down for the night, and often, if near a +village, the distant, slumbrous sound of a church bell, or even the +rumble of a train--how good all these sounds are! They have all come +to me again this week with renewed freshness and impressiveness. I am +living deep again! + +It was not, indeed, until last Wednesday that I began to get my fill, +temporarily, of the outward satisfaction of the Road--the primeval +takings of the senses--the mere joys of seeing, hearing, smelling, +touching. But on that day I began to wake up; I began to have a desire +to know something of all the strange and interesting people who are +working in their fields, or standing invitingly in their doorways, or so +busily afoot in the country roads. Let me add, also, for this is one of +the most important parts of my present experience, that this new desire +was far from being wholly esoteric. I had also begun to have cravings +which would not in the least be satisfied by landscapes or dulled by the +sights and sounds of the road. A whiff here and there from a doorway +at mealtime had made me long for my own home, for the sight of Harriet +calling from the steps: + +"Dinner, David." + +But I had covenanted with myself long before starting that I would +literally "live light in spring." It was the one and primary condition I +made with myself--and made with serious purpose--and when I came away I +had only enough money in my pocket and sandwiches in my pack to see me +through the first three or four days. Any man may brutally pay his way +anywhere, but it is quite another thing to be accepted by your humankind +not as a paid lodger but as a friend. Always, it seems to me, I have +wanted to submit myself, and indeed submit the stranger, to that test. +Moreover, how can any man look for true adventure in life if he always +knows to a certainty where his next meal is coming from? In a world so +completely dominated by goods, by things, by possessions, and smothered +by security, what fine adventure is left to a man of spirit save the +adventure of poverty? + +I do not mean by this the adventure of involuntary poverty, for I +maintain that involuntary poverty, like involuntary riches, is a credit +to no man. It is only as we dominate life that we really live. What I +mean here, if I may so express it, is an adventure in achieved poverty. +In the lives of such true men as Francis of Assisi and Tolstoi, that +which draws the world to them in secret sympathy is not that they lived +lives of poverty, but rather, having riches at their hands, or for the +very asking, that they chose poverty as the better way of life. + +As for me, I do not in the least pretend to have accepted the final +logic of an achieved poverty. I have merely abolished temporarily from +my life a few hens and cows, a comfortable old farmhouse, and--certain +other emoluments and hereditaments--but remain the slave of sundry cloth +upon my back and sundry articles in my gray bag--including a fat pocket +volume or so, and a tin whistle. Let them pass now. To-morrow I may wish +to attempt life with still less. I might survive without my battered +copy of "Montaigne" or even submit to existence without that sense +of distant companionship symbolized by a postage-stamp, and as for +trousers-- + +In this deceptive world, how difficult of attainment is perfection! + +No, I expect I shall continue for a long time to owe the worm his silk, +the beast his hide, the sheep his wool, and the cat his perfume! What +I am seeking is something as simple and as quiet as the trees or the +hills--just to look out around me at the pleasant countryside, to enjoy +a little of this show, to meet (and to help a little if I may) a few +human beings, and thus to get nearly into the sweet kernel of human +life. My friend, you may or may not think this a worthy object; if +you do not, stop here, go no further with me; but if you do, why, we'll +exchange great words on the road; we'll look up at the sky together, +we'll see and hear the finest things in this world! We'll enjoy the sun! +We'll live light in spring! + +Until last Tuesday, then, I was carried easily and comfortably onward +by the corn, the eggs, and the honey of my past labours, and before +Wednesday noon I began to experience in certain vital centres +recognizable symptoms of a variety of discomfort anciently familiar to +man. And it was all the sharper because I did not know how or where I +could assuage it. In all my life, in spite of various ups and downs in +a fat world, I don't think I was ever before genuinely hungry. Oh, I've +been hungry in a reasonable, civilized way, but I have always known +where in an hour or so I could get all I wanted to eat--a condition +accountable, in this world, I am convinced, for no end of stupidity. But +to be both physically and, let us say, psychologically hungry, and not +to know where or how to get anything to eat, adds something to the zest +of life. + +By noon on Wednesday, then, I was reduced quite to a point of necessity. +But where was I to begin, and how? I know from long experience the +suspicion with which the ordinary farmer meets the Man of the Road--the +man who appears to wish to enjoy the fruits of the earth without working +for them with his hands. It is a distrust deep-seated and ages old. Nor +can the Man of the Road ever quite understand the Man of the Fields. And +here was I, for so long the stationary Man of the Fields, essaying +the role of the Man of the Road. I experienced a sudden sense of the +enlivenment of the faculties: I must now depend upon wit or cunning or +human nature to win my way, not upon mere skill of the hand or strength +in the bent back. Whereas in my former life, when I was assailed by a +Man of the Road, whether tramp or peddler or poet, I had only to stand +stock-still within my fences and say nothing--though indeed I never +could do that, being far too much interested in every one who came my +way--and the invader was soon repelled. There is nothing so resistant as +the dull security of possession the stolidity of ownership! + +Many times that day I stopped by a field side or at the end of a lane, +or at a house-gate, and considered the possibilities of making an +attack. Oh, I measured the houses and barns I saw with a new eye! The +kind of country I had known so long and familiarly became a new and +foreign land, full of strange possibilities. I spied out the men in the +fields and did not fail, also, to see what I could of the commissary +department of each farmstead as I passed. I walked for miles looking +thus for a favourable opening--and with a sensation of embarrassment at +once disagreeable and pleasurable. As the afternoon began to deepen I +saw that I must absolutely do something: a whole day tramping in the +open air without a bite to eat is an irresistible argument. + +Presently I saw from the road a farmer and his son planting potatoes in +a sloping field. There was no house at all in view. At the bars stood a +light wagon half filled with bags of seed potatoes, and the horse which +had drawn it stood quietly, not far off, tied to the fence. The man and +the boy, each with a basket on his arm, were at the farther end of the +field, dropping potatoes. I stood quietly watching them. They stepped +quickly and kept their eyes on the furrows: good workers. I liked the +looks of them. I liked also the straight, clean furrows; I liked the +appearance of the horse. + +"I will stop here," I said to myself. + +I cannot at all convey the sense of high adventure I had as I stood +there. Though I had not the slightest idea of what I should do or say, +yet I was determined upon the attack. + +Neither father nor son saw me until they had nearly reached the end of +the field. + +"Step lively, Ben," I heard the man say with some impatience; "we've got +to finish this field to-day." + +"I AM steppin' lively, dad," responded the boy, "but it's awful hot. We +can't possibly finish to-day. It's too much." + +"We've got to get through here to-day," the man replied grimly; "we're +already two weeks late." + +I know just how the man felt; for I knew well the difficulty a farmer +has in getting help in planting time. The spring waits for no man. My +heart went out to the man and boy struggling there in the heat of their +field. For this is the real warfare of the common life. + +"Why," I said to myself with a curious lift of the heart, "they have +need of a fellow just like me." + +At that moment the boy saw me and, missing a step in the rhythm of the +planting, the father also looked up and saw me. But neither said a word +until the furrows were finished, and the planters came to refill their +baskets. + +"Fine afternoon," I said, sparring for an opening. + +"Fine," responded the man rather shortly, glancing up from his work. I +recalled the scores of times I had been exactly in his place, and had +glanced up to see the stranger in the road. + +"Got another basket handy?" I asked. + +"There is one somewhere around here," he answered not too cordially. The +boy said nothing at all, but eyed me with absorbing interest. The gloomy +look had already gone from his face. + +I slipped my gray bag from my shoulder, took off my coat, and put them +both down inside the fence. Then I found the basket and began to fill it +from one of the bags. Both man and boy looked up at me questioningly. I +enjoyed the situation immensely. + +"I heard you say to your son," I said, "that you'd have to hurry in +order to get in your potatoes to-day. I can see that for myself. Let me +take a hand for a row or two." + +The unmistakable shrewd look of the bargainer came suddenly into the +man's face, but when I went about my business without hesitation or +questioning, he said nothing at all. As for the boy, the change in his +countenance was marvellous to see. Something new and astonishing had +come into the world. Oh, I know what a thing it is to be a boy and to +work in trouting time! + +"How near are you planting, Ben?" I asked. + +"About fourteen inches." + +So we began in fine spirits. I was delighted with the favourable +beginning of my enterprise; there is nothing which so draws men together +as their employment at a common task. + +Ben was a lad some fifteen years old-very stout and stocky, with a fine +open countenance and a frank blue eye--all boy. His nose was as freckled +as the belly of a trout. The whole situation, including the prospect of +help in finishing a tiresome job, pleased him hugely. He stole a glimpse +from time to time at me then at his father. Finally he said: + +"Say, you'll have to step lively to keep up with dad." + +"I'll show you," I said, "how we used to drop potatoes when I was a +boy." + +And with that I began to step ahead more quickly and make the pieces +fairly fly. + +"We old fellows," I said to the father, "must give these young sprouts a +lesson once in a while." + +"You will, will you?" responded the boy, and instantly began to drop the +potatoes at a prodigious speed. The father followed with more dignity, +but with evident amusement, and so we all came with a rush to the end of +the row. + +"I guess that beats the record across THIS field!" remarked the lad, +puffing and wiping his forehead. "Say, but you're a good one!" + +It gave me a peculiar thrill of pleasure; there is nothing more pleasing +than the frank admiration of a boy. + +We paused a moment and I said to the man: "This looks like fine potato +land." + +"The' ain't any better in these parts," he replied with some pride in +his voice. + +And so we went at the planting again: and as we planted we had great +talk of seed potatoes and the advantages and disadvantages of mechanical +planters, of cultivating and spraying, and all the lore of prices and +profits. Once we stopped at the lower end of the field to get a drink +from a jug of water set in the shade of a fence corner, and once we set +the horse in the thills and moved the seed farther up the field. And +tired and hungry as I felt I really enjoyed the work; I really enjoyed +talking with this busy father and son, and I wondered what their home +life was like and what were their real ambitions and hopes. Thus the sun +sank lower and lower, the long shadows began to creep into the valleys, +and we came finally toward the end of the field. Suddenly the boy Ben +cried out: + +"There's Sis!" + +I glanced up and saw standing near the gateway a slim, bright girl of +about twelve in a fresh gingham dress. + +"We're coming!" roared Ben, exultantly. + +While we were hitching up the horse, the man said to me: + +"You'll come down with us and have some supper." + +"Indeed I will," I replied, trying not to make my response too eager. + +"Did mother make gingerbread to-day?" I heard the boy whisper audibly. + +"Sh-h--" replied the girl, "who is that man?" + +"_I_ don't know" with a great accent of mystery--"and dad don't know. +Did mother make gingerbread?" + +"Sh-h--he'll hear you." + +"Gee! but he can plant potatoes. He dropped down on us out of a clear +sky." + +"What is he?" she asked. "A tramp?" + +"Nope, not a tramp. He works. But, Sis, did mother make gingerbread?" + +So we all got into the light wagon and drove briskly out along the shady +country road. The evening was coming on, and the air was full of the +scent of blossoms. We turned finally into a lane and thus came promptly, +for the horse was as eager as we, to the capacious farmyard. A motherly +woman came out from the house, spoke to her son, and nodded pleasantly +to me. There was no especial introduction. I said merely, "My name is +Grayson," and I was accepted without a word. + +I waited to help the man, whose name I had now learned--it was +Stanley--with his horse and wagon, and then we came up to the house. +Near the back door there was a pump, with a bench and basin set just +within a little cleanly swept, open shed. Rolling back my collar and +baring my arms I washed myself in the cool water, dashing it over my +head until I gasped, and then stepping back, breathless and refreshed, +I found the slim girl, Mary, at my elbow with a clean soft towel. As +I stood wiping quietly I could smell the ambrosial odours from the +kitchen. In all my life I never enjoyed a moment more than that, I +think. + +"Come in now," said the motherly Mrs. Stanley. + +So we filed into the roomy kitchen, where an older girl, called Kate, +was flying about placing steaming dishes upon the table. There was also +an older son, who had been at the farm chores. It was altogether a fine, +vigorous, independent American family. So we all sat down and drew up +our chairs. Then we paused a moment, and the father, bowing his head, +said in a low voice: + +"For all Thy good gifts, Lord, we thank Thee. Preserve us and keep us +through another night." + +I suppose it was a very ordinary farm meal, but it seems to me I never +tasted a better one. The huge piles of new baked bread, the sweet farm +butter, already delicious with the flavour of new grass, the bacon and +eggs, the potatoes, the rhubarb sauce, the great plates of new, hot +gingerbread and, at the last, the custard pie--a great wedge of it, with +fresh cheese. After the first ravenous appetite of hardworking men was +satisfied, there came to be a good deal of lively conversation. The +girls had some joke between them which Ben was trying in vain to fathom. +The older son told how much milk a certain Alderney cow had given, +and Mr. Stanley, quite changed now as he sat at his own table from the +rather grim farmer of the afternoon, revealed a capacity for a husky +sort of fun, joking Ben about his potato-planting and telling in a +lively way of his race with me. As for Mrs. Stanley, she sat smiling +behind her tall coffee pot, radiating good cheer and hospitality. They +asked me no questions at all, and I was so hungry and tired that I +volunteered no information. + +After supper we went out for half or three quarters of an hour to do +some final chores, and Mr. Stanley and I stopped in the cattle yard and +looked over the cows, and talked learnedly about the pigs, and I admired +his spring calves to his hearts content, for they really were a +fine lot. When we came in again the lamps had been lighted in the +sitting-room and the older daughter was at the telephone exchanging +the news of the day with some neighbour--and with great laughter and +enjoyment. Occasionally she would turn and repeat some bit of gossip to +the family, and Mrs. Stanley would claim: + +"Do tell!" + +"Can't we have a bit of music to-night?" inquired Mr. Stanley. + +Instantly Ben and the slim girl, Mary, made a wild dive for the front +room--the parlour--and came out with a first-rate phonograph which they +placed on the table. + +"Something lively now," said Mr. Stanley. + +So they put on a rollicking negro song called. "My Georgia Belle," +which, besides the tuneful voices, introduced a steamboat whistle and +a musical clangour of bells. When it wound up with a bang, Mr. Stanley +took his big comfortable pipe out of his mouth and cried out: + +"Fine, fine!" + +We had further music of the same sort and with one record the older +daughter, Kate, broke into the song with a full, strong though +uncultivated voice--which pleased us all very much indeed. + +Presently Mrs. Stanley, who was sitting under the lamp with a basket of +socks to mend, began to nod. + +"Mother's giving the signal," said the older son. + +"No, no, I'm not a bit sleepy," exclaimed Mrs. Stanley. + +But with further joking and laughing the family began to move about. The +older daughter gave me a hand lamp and showed me the way upstairs to a +little room at the end of the house. + +"I think," she said with pleasant dignity, "you will find everything you +need." + +I cannot tell with what solid pleasure I rolled into bed or how soundly +and sweetly I slept. + +This was the first day of my real adventures. + + + +CHAPTER II. I WHISTLE + +When I was a boy I learned after many discouragements to play on a tin +whistle. There was a wandering old fellow in our town who would sit for +hours on the shady side of a certain ancient hotel-barn, and with his +little whistle to his lips, and gently swaying his head to his tune and +tapping one foot in the gravel, he would produce the most wonderful +and beguiling melodies. His favourite selections were very lively; he +played, I remember, "Old Dan Tucker," and "Money Musk," and the tune of +a rollicking old song, now no doubt long forgotten, called "Wait for +the Wagon." I can see him yet, with his jolly eyes half closed, his +lips puckered around the whistle, and his fingers curiously and stiffly +poised over the stops. I am sure I shall never forget the thrill which +his music gave to the heart of a certain barefoot boy. + +At length, by means I have long since forgotten, I secured a tin whistle +exactly like Old Tom Madison's and began diligently to practise such +tunes as I knew. I am quite sure now that I must have made a nuisance +of myself, for it soon appeared to be the set purpose of every member +of the family to break up my efforts. Whenever my father saw me with the +whistle to my lips, he would instantly set me at some useful work (oh, +he was an adept in discovering useful work to do--for a boy!). And at +the very sight of my stern aunt I would instantly secrete my whistle +in my blouse and fly for the garret or cellar, like a cat caught in the +cream. Such are the early tribulations of musical genius! + +At last I discovered a remote spot on a beam in the hay-barn where, +lighted by a ray of sunlight which came through a crack in the eaves +and pointed a dusty golden finger into that hay-scented interior, I +practised rapturously and to my heart's content upon my tin whistle. +I learned "Money Musk" until I could play it in Old Tom Madison's best +style--even to the last nod and final foot-tap. I turned a certain +church hymn called "Yield Not to Temptation" into something quite +inspiriting, and I played "Marching Through Georgia" until all the +"happy hills of hay" were to the fervid eye of a boy's imagination full +of tramping soldiers. Oh, I shall never forget the joys of those hours +in the hay-barn, nor the music of that secret tin whistle! I can hear +yet the crooning of the pigeons in the eaves, and the slatey sound of +their wings as they flew across the open spaces in the great barn; I can +smell yet the odour of the hay. + +But with years, and the city, and the shame of youth, I put aside and +almost forgot the art of whistling. When I was preparing for the present +pilgrimage, however, it came to me with a sudden thrill of pleasure that +nothing in the wide world now prevented me from getting a whistle and +seeing whether I had forgotten my early cunning. At the very first +good-sized town I came to I was delighted to find at a little candy and +toy shop just the sort of whistle I wanted, at the extravagant price of +ten cents. I bought it and put it in the bottom of my knapsack. + +"Am I not old enough now," I said to myself, "to be as youthful as I +choose?" + +Isn't it the strangest thing in the world how long it takes us to learn +to accept the joys of simple pleasures?--and some of us never learn at +all. "Boo!" says the neighbourhood, and we are instantly frightened into +doing a thousand unnecessary and unpleasant things, or prevented from +doing a thousand beguiling things. + +For the first few days I was on the road I thought often with pleasure +of the whistle lying there in my bag, but it was not until after I left +the Stanleys' that I felt exactly in the mood to try it. + +The fact is, my adventures on the Stanley farm had left me in a very +cheerful frame of mind. They convinced me that some of the great things +I had expected of my pilgrimage were realizable possibilities. Why, I +had walked right into the heart of as fine a family as I have seen these +many days. + +I remained with them the entire day following the potato-planting. We +were out at five o'clock in the morning, and after helping with +the chores, and eating a prodigious breakfast, we went again to the +potato-field, and part of the time I helped plant a few remaining rows, +and part of the time I drove a team attached to a wing-plow to cover the +planting of the previous day. + +In the afternoon a slashing spring rain set in, and Mr. Stanley, who +was a forehanded worker, found a job for all of us in the barn. Ben, +the younger son, and I sharpened mower-blades and a scythe or so, Ben +turning the grindstone and I holding the blades and telling him stories +into the bargain. Mr. Stanley and his stout older son overhauled the +work-harness and tinkered the corn-planter. The doors at both ends +of the barn stood wide open, and through one of them, framed like a +picture, we could see the scudding floods descend upon the meadows, and +through the other, across a fine stretch of open country, we could see +all the roads glistening and the treetops moving under the rain. + +"Fine, fine!" exclaimed Mr. Stanley, looking out from time to time, "we +got in our potatoes just in the nick of time." + +After supper that evening I told them of my plan to leave them on the +following morning. + +"Don't do that," said Mrs. Stanley heartily; "stay on with us." + +"Yes," said Mr. Stanley, "we're shorthanded, and I'd be glad to have a +man like you all summer. There ain't any one around here will pay a good +man more'n I will, nor treat 'im better." + +"I'm sure of it, Mr. Stanley," I said, "but I can't stay with you." + +At that the tide of curiosity which I had seen rising ever since I +came began to break through. Oh, I know how difficult it is to let the +wanderer get by without taking toll of him! There are not so many people +here in the country that we can afford to neglect them. And as I had +nothing in the world to conceal, and, indeed, loved nothing better than +the give and take of getting acquainted, we were soon at it in good +earnest. + +But it was not enough to tell them that my name was David Grayson and +where my farm was located, and how many acres there were, and how much +stock I had, and what I raised. The great particular "Why?"--as I knew +it would be--concerned my strange presence on the road at this season of +the year and the reason why I should turn in by chance, as I had done, +to help at their planting. If a man is stationary, it seems quite +impossible for him to imagine why any one should care to wander; and +as for the wanderer it is inconceivable to him how any one can remain +permanently at home. + +We were all sitting comfortably around the table in the living-room. The +lamps were lighted, and Mr. Stanley, in slippers, was smoking his pipe +and Mrs. Stanley was darning socks over a mending-gourd, and the two +young Stanleys were whispering and giggling about some matter of supreme +consequence to youth. The windows were open, and we could smell the +sweet scent of the lilacs from the yard and hear the drumming of the +rain as it fell on the roof of the porch. + +"It's easy to explain," I said. "The fact is, it got to the point on my +farm that I wasn't quite sure whether I owned it or it owned me. And I +made up my mind I'd get away for a while from my own horses and cattle +and see what the world was like. I wanted to see how people lived up +here, and what they are thinking about, and how they do their farming." + +As I talked of my plans and of the duty one had, as I saw it, to be a +good broad man as well as a good farmer, I grew more and more interested +and enthusiastic. Mr. Stanley took his pipe slowly from his mouth, held +it poised until it finally went out, and sat looking at me with a rapt +expression. I never had a better audience. Finally, Mr. Stanley said +very earnestly: + +"And you have felt that way, too?" + +"Why, father!" exclaimed Mrs. Stanley, in astonishment. + +Mr. Stanley hastily put his pipe back into his mouth and confusedly +searched in his pockets for a match; but I knew I had struck down deep +into a common experience. Here was this brisk and prosperous farmer +having his dreams too--dreams that even his wife did not know! + +So I continued my talk with even greater fervour. I don't think that the +boy Ben understood all that I said, for I was dealing with experiences +common mostly to older men, but he somehow seemed to get the spirit of +it, for quite unconsciously he began to hitch his chair toward me, then +he laid his hand on my chair-arm and finally and quite simply he rested +his arm against mine and looked at me with all his eyes. I keep learning +that there is nothing which reaches men's hearts like talking straight +out the convictions and emotions of your innermost soul. Those who hear +you may not agree with you, or they may not understand you fully, but +something incalculable, something vital, passes. And as for a boy or +girl it is one of the sorriest of mistakes to talk down to them; almost +always your lad of fifteen thinks more simply, more fundamentally, than +you do; and what he accepts as good coin is not facts or precepts, but +feelings and convictions--LIFE. And why shouldn't we speak out? + +"I long ago decided," I said, "to try to be fully what I am and not to +be anything or anybody else." + +"That's right, that's right," exclaimed Mr. Stanley, nodding his head +vigorously. + +"It's about the oldest wisdom there is," I said, and with that I thought +of the volume I carried in my pocket, and straightway I pulled it out +and after a moment's search found the passage I wanted. + +"Listen," I said, "to what this old Roman philosopher said"--and I held +the book up to the lamp and read aloud: + +"'You can be invincible if you enter into no contest in which it is +not in your power to conquer. Take care, then, when you observe a man +honoured before others or possessed of great power, or highly esteemed +for any reason, not to suppose him happy and be not carried away by the +appearance. For if the nature of the good is in our power, neither envy +nor jealousy will have a place in us. But you yourself will not wish to +be a general or a senator or consul, but a free man, and there is only +one way to do this, to care not for the things which are not in our +power.'" + +"That," said Mr. Stanley, "is exactly what I've always said, but I +didn't know it was in any book. I always said I didn't want to be a +senator or a legislator, or any other sort of office-holder. It's good +enough for me right here on this farm." + +At that moment I glanced down into Ben's shining eyes. + +"But I want to be a senator or--something--when I grow up," he said +eagerly. + +At this the older brother, who was sitting not far off, broke into a +laugh, and the boy, who for a moment had been drawn out of his reserve, +shrank back again and coloured to the hair. + +"Well, Ben," said I, putting my hand on his knee, "don't you let +anything stop you. I'll back you up; I'll vote for you." + +After breakfast the next morning Mr. Stanley drew me aside and said: + +"Now I want to pay you for your help yesterday and the day before." + +"No," I said. "I've had more than value received. You've taken me in +like a friend and brother. I've enjoyed it." + +So Mrs. Stanley half filled my knapsack with the finest luncheon I've +seen in many a day, and thus, with as pleasant a farewell as if I'd +been a near relative, I set off up the country road. I was a little +distressed in parting to see nothing of the boy Ben, for I had formed a +genuine liking for him, but upon reaching a clump of trees which hid +the house from the road I saw him standing in the moist grass of a fence +corner. + +"I want to say good-bye," he said in the gruff voice of embarrassment. + +"Ben," I said, "I missed you, and I'd have hated to go off without +seeing you again. Walk a bit with me." + +So we walked side by side, talking quietly and when at last I shook his +hand I said: + +"Ben, don't you ever be afraid of acting up to the very best thoughts +you have in your heart." + +He said nothing for a moment, and then: "Gee! I'm sorry you're goin' +away!" + +"Gee!" I responded, "I'm sorry, too!" + +With that we both laughed, but when I reached the top of the hill, and +looked back, I saw him still standing there bare-footed in the road +looking after me. I waved my hand and he waved his: and I saw him no +more. + +No country, after all, produces any better crop than its inhabitants. +And as I travelled onward I liked to think of these brave, temperate, +industrious, God-friendly American people. I have no fear of the country +while so many of them are still to be found upon the farms and in the +towns of this land. + +So I tramped onward full of cheerfulness. The rain had ceased, but all +the world was moist and very green and still. I walked for more than +two hours with the greatest pleasure. About ten o'clock in the morning I +stopped near a brook to drink and rest, for I was warm and tired. And it +was then that I bethought me of the little tin pipe in my knapsack, and +straightway I got it out, and, sitting down at the foot of a tree near +the brook, I put it to my lips and felt for the stops with unaccustomed +fingers. At first I made the saddest sort of work of it, and was not a +little disappointed, indeed, with the sound of the whistle itself. It +was nothing to my memory of it! It seemed thin and tinny. + +However, I persevered at it, and soon produced a recognizable imitation +of Tom Madison's "Old Dan Tucker." My success quite pleased me, and +I became so absorbed that I quite lost account of the time and place. +There was no one to hear me save a bluejay which for an hour or more +kept me company. He sat on a twig just across the brook, cocking his +head at me, and saucily wagging his tail. Occasionally he would dart off +among the trees crying shrilly; but his curiosity would always get the +better of him and back he would come again to try to solve the mystery +of this rival whistling, which I'm sure was as shrill and as harsh as +his own. + +Presently, quite to my astonishment, I saw a man standing near the +brookside not a dozen paces away from me. How long he had been there +I don't know, for I had heard nothing of his coming. Beyond him in the +town road I could see the head of his horse and the top of his buggy. I +said not a word, but continued with my practising. Why shouldn't I? But +it gave me quite a thrill for the moment; and at once I began to think +of the possibilities of the situation. What a thing it was have so many +unexpected and interesting situations developing! So I nodded my head +and tapped my foot, and blew into my whistle all the more energetically. +I knew my visitor could not possibly keep away. And he could not; +presently he came nearer and said: + +"What are you doing, neighbour?" + +I continued a moment with my playing, but commanded him with my eye. + +Oh, I assure you I assumed all the airs of a virtuoso. When I had +finished my tune I removed my whistle deliberately and wiped my lips. + +"Why, enjoying myself," I replied with greatest good humour. "What are +you doing?" + +"Why," he said, "watching you enjoy yourself. I heard you playing as I +passed in the road, and couldn't imagine what it could be." + +I told him I thought it might still be difficult, having heard me near +at hand, to imagine what it could be--and thus, tossing the ball of +good-humoured repartee back and forth, we walked down to the road +together. He had a quiet old horse and a curious top buggy with the +unmistakable box of an agent or peddler built on behind. + +"My name," he said, "is Canfield. I fight dust." + +"And mine," I said, "is Grayson. I whistle." + +I discovered that he was an agent for brushes, and he opened his box +and showed me the greatest assortment of big and little brushes: bristle +brushes, broom brushes, yarn brushes, wire brushes, brushes for man and +brushes for beast, brushes of every conceivable size and shape that ever +I saw in all my life. He had out one of his especial pets--he called +it his "leader"--and feeling it familiarly in his hand he instinctively +began the jargon of well-handled and voice-worn phrases which went with +that particular brush. It was just as though some one had touched a +button and had started him going. It was amazing to me that any one +in the world should be so much interested in mere brushes--until he +actually began to make me feel that brushes were as interesting as +anything else! + +What a strange, little, dried-up old fellow he was, with his balls +of muttonchop sidewhiskers, his thick eyebrows, and his lively blue +eyes!--a man evidently not readily turned aside by rebuffs. He had +already shown that his wit as a talker had been sharpened by long +and varied contact with a world of reluctant purchasers. I was really +curious to know more of him, so I said finally: + +"See here, Mr. Canfield, it's just noon. Why not sit down here with me +and have a bit of luncheon?" + +"Why not?" he responded with alacrity. "As the fellow said, why not?" + +He unhitched his horse, gave him a drink from the brook, and then +tethered him where he could nip the roadside grass. I opened my bag and +explored the wonders of Mrs. Stanley's luncheon. I cannot describe the +absolutely carefree feeling I had. Always at home, when I would have +liked to stop at the roadside with a stranger, I felt the nudge of a +conscience troubled with cows and corn, but here I could stop where I +liked, or go on when I liked, and talk with whom I pleased, as long as I +pleased. + +So we sat there, the brush-peddler and I, under the trees, and ate +Mrs. Stanley's fine luncheon, drank the clear water from the brook, +and talked great talk. Compared with Mr. Canfield I was a babe at +wandering--and equally at talking. Was there any business he had not +been in, or any place in the country he had not visited? He had sold +everything from fly-paper to threshing-machines, he had picked up a +large working knowledge of the weaknesses of human nature, and had +arrived at the age of sixty-six with just enough available cash to pay +the manufacturer for a new supply of brushes. In strict confidence, I +drew certain conclusions from the colour of his nose! He had once had +a family, but dropped them somewhere along the road. Most of our brisk +neighbours would have put him down as a failure--an old man, and nothing +laid by! But I wonder--I wonder. One thing I am coming to learn in this +world, and that is to let people haggle along with their lives as I +haggle along with mine. + +We both made tremendous inroads on the luncheon, and I presume we might +have sat there talking all the afternoon if I had not suddenly bethought +myself with a not unpleasant thrill that my resting-place for the night +was still gloriously undecided. + +"Friend," I said, "I've got to be up and going. I haven't so much as a +penny in my pocket, and I've got to find a place to sleep." + +The effect of this remark upon Mr. Canfield was magical. He threw up +both his hands and cried out: + +"You're that way, are you?"--as though for the first time he really +understood. We were at last on common ground. + +"Partner," said he, "you needn't tell nothin' about it. I've been right +there myself." + +At once he began to bustle about with great enthusiasm. He was for +taking complete charge of me, and I think, if I had permitted it, would +instantly have made a brush-agent of me. At least he would have carried +me along with him in his buggy; but when he suggested it I felt very +much, I think, as some old monk must have who had taken a vow to do +some particular thing in some particular way. With great difficulty I +convinced him finally that my way was different from his--though he was +regally impartial as to what road he took next--and, finally, with some +reluctance, he started to climb into his buggy. + +A thought, however, struck him suddenly, and he stepped down again, ran +around to the box at the back of his buggy, opened it with a mysterious +and smiling look at me, and took out a small broom-brush with which he +instantly began brushing off my coat and trousers--in the liveliest and +most exuberant way. When he had finished this occupation, he quickly +handed the brush to me. + +"A token of esteem," he said, "from a fellow traveller." + +I tried in vain to thank him, but he held up his hand, scrambled quickly +into his buggy, and was for driving off instantly, but paused and +beckoned me toward him. When I approached the buggy, he took hold of one +the lapels of my coat, bent over, and said with the utmost seriousness: + +"No man ought to take the road without a brush. A good broom-brush is +the world's greatest civilizer. Are you looking seedy or dusty?--why, +this here brush will instantly make you a respectable citizen. Take my +word for it, friend, never go into any strange house without stoppin' +and brushin' off. It's money in your purse! You can get along without +dinner sometimes, or even without a shirt, but without a brush--never! +There's nothin' in the world so necessary to rich AN' poor, old AN' +young as a good brush!" + +And with a final burst of enthusiasm the brush-peddler drove off up the +hill. I stood watching him and when he turned around I waved the brush +high over my head in token of a grateful farewell. + +It was a good, serviceable, friendly brush. I carried it throughout my +wanderings; and as I sit here writing in my study, at this moment, I can +see it hanging on a hook at the side of my fireplace. + + + +CHAPTER III. THE HOUSE BY THE SIDE OF THE ROAD + +"Everyone," remarks Tristram Shandy, "will speak of the fair as his own +market has gone in it." + +It came near being a sorry fair for me on the afternoon following my +parting with the amiable brush-peddler. The plain fact is, my success +at the Stanleys', and the easy manner in which I had fallen in with Mr. +Canfield, gave me so much confidence in myself as a sort of Master of +the Road that I proceeded with altogether too much assurance. + +I am firmly convinced that the prime quality to be cultivated by the +pilgrim is humility of spirit; he must be willing to accept Adventure in +whatever garb she chooses to present herself. He must be able to see the +shining form of the unusual through the dull garments of the normal. + +The fact is, I walked that afternoon with my head in air and passed many +a pleasant farmstead where men were working in the fields, and many an +open doorway, and a mill or two, and a town--always looking for some +Great Adventure. + +Somewhere upon this road, I thought to myself, I shall fall in with a +Great Person, or become a part of a Great Incident. I recalled with keen +pleasure the experience of that young Spanish student of Carlyle +writes in one of his volumes, who, riding out from Madrid one day, came +unexpectedly upon the greatest man in the world. This great man, of whom +Carlyle observes (I have looked up the passage since I came home), "a +kindlier, meeker, braver heart has seldom looked upon the sky in this +world," had ridden out from the city for the last time in his life "to +take one other look at the azure firmament and green mosaic pavements +and the strange carpentry and arras work of this noble palace of a +world." + +As the old story has it, the young student "came pricking on hastily, +complaining that they went at such a pace as gave him little chance of +keeping up with them. One of the party made answer that the blame +lay with the horse of Don Miguel de Cervantes, whose trot was of the +speediest. He had hardly pronounced the name when the student dismounted +and, touching the hem of Cervantes' left sleeve, said, 'Yes, yes, it is +indeed the maimed perfection, the all-famous, the delightful writer, the +joy and darling of the Muses! You are that brave Miguel.'" + +It may seem absurd to some in this cool and calculating twentieth +century that any one should indulge in such vain imaginings as I have +described--and yet, why not? All things are as we see them. I once heard +a man--a modern man, living to-day--tell with a hush in his voice, and +a peculiar light in his eye, how, walking in the outskirts of an +unromantic town in New Jersey, he came suddenly upon a vigorous, +bearded, rather rough-looking man swinging his stick as he walked, and +stopping often at the roadside and often looking up at the sky. I shall +never forget the curious thrill in his voice as he said: + +"And THAT was Walt Whitman." + +And thus quite absurdly intoxicated by the possibilities of the road, I +let the big full afternoon slip by--I let slip the rich possibilities +of half a hundred farms and scores of travelling people--and as evening +began to fall I came to a stretch of wilder country with wooded hills +and a dashing stream by the roadside. It was a fine and beautiful +country--to look at--but the farms, and with them the chances of dinner, +and a friendly place to sleep, grew momentarily scarcer. Upon the hills +here and there, indeed, were to be seen the pretentious summer homes +of rich dwellers from the cities, but I looked upon them with no great +hopefulness. + +"Of all places in the world," I said to myself, "surely none could be +more unfriendly to a man like me." + +But I amused myself with conjectures as to what might happen (until the +adventure seemed almost worth trying) if a dusty man with a bag on +his back should appear at the door of one of those well-groomed +establishments. It came to me, indeed, with a sudden deep sense of +understanding, that I should probably find there, as everywhere else, +just men and women. And with that I fell into a sort of Socratic +dialogue with myself: + +ME: Having decided that the people in these houses are, after all, +merely men and women, what is the best way of reaching them? + +MYSELF: Undoubtedly by giving them something they want and have not. + +ME: But these are rich people from the city; what can they want that +they have not? + +MYSELF: Believe me, of all people in the world those who want the +most are those who have the most. These people are also consumed with +desires. + +ME: And what, pray, do you suppose they desire? + +MYSELF: They want what they have not got; they want the unattainable: +they want chiefly the rarest and most precious of all things--a little +mystery in their lives. + +"That's it!" I said aloud; "that's it! Mystery--the things of the +spirit, the things above ordinary living--is not that the +essential thing for which the world is sighing, and groaning, and +longing--consciously, or unconsciously?" + +I have always believed that men in their innermost souls desire the +highest, bravest, finest things they can hear, or see, or feel in all +the world. Tell a man how he can increase his income and he will be +grateful to you and soon forget you; but show him the highest, most +mysterious things in his own soul and give him the word which will +convince him that the finest things are really attainable, and he will +love and follow you always. + +I now began to look with much excitement to a visit at one of the +houses on the hill, but to my disappointment I found the next two that +I approached still closed up, for the spring was not yet far enough +advanced to attract the owners to the country. I walked rapidly onward +through the gathering twilight, but with increasing uneasiness as to the +prospects for the night, and thus came suddenly upon the scene of an odd +adventure. + +From some distance I had seen a veritable palace set high among the +trees and overlooking a wonderful green valley--and, drawing nearer, +I saw evidences of well-kept roadways and a visible effort to make +invisible the attempt to preserve the wild beauty of the place. I saw, +or thought I saw, people on the wide veranda, and I was sure I heard the +snort of a climbing motor-car, but I had scarcely decided to make my way +up to the house when I came, at the turning of the country road, upon +a bit of open land laid out neatly as a garden, near the edge of which, +nestling among the trees, stood a small cottage. It seemed somehow +to belong to the great estate above it, and I concluded, at the first +glance, that it was the home of some caretaker or gardener. + +It was a charming place to see, and especially the plantation of trees +and shrubs. My eye fell instantly upon a fine magnolia--rare in this +country--which had not yet cast all its blossoms, and I paused for +a moment to look at it more closely. I myself have tried to raise +magnolias near my house, and I know how difficult it is. + +As I approached nearer to the cottage, I could see a man and woman +sitting on the porch in the twilight and swaying back and forth in +rocking-chairs. I fancied--it may have been only a fancy--that when I +first saw them their hands were clasped as they rocked side by side. + +It was indeed a charming little cottage. Crimson ramblers, giving +promise of the bloom that was yet to come, climbed over one end of the +porch, and there were fine dark-leaved lilac-bushes near the doorway: +oh, a pleasant, friendly, quiet place! + +I opened the front gate and walked straight in, as though I had at last +reached my destination. I cannot give any idea of the lift of the heart +with which I entered upon this new adventure. Without the premeditation +and not knowing what I should say or do, I realized that everything +depended upon a few sentences spoken within the next minute or two. +Believe me, this experience to a man who does not know where his next +meal is coming from, nor where he is to spend the night, is well worth +having. It is a marvellous sharpener of the facts. + +I knew, of course, just how these people of the cottage would ordinarily +regard an intruder whose bag and clothing must infallibly class him as a +follower of the road. And so many followers of the road are--well-- + +As I came nearer, the man and woman stopped rocking, but said nothing. +An old dog that had been sleeping on the top step rose slowly and stood +there. + +"As I passed your garden," I said, grasping desperately for a way of +approach, "I saw your beautiful specimen of the magnolia tree--the one +still in blossom. I myself have tried to grow magnolias--but with +small success--and I'm making bold to inquire what variety you are so +successful with." + +It was a shot in the air--but I knew from what I had seen that they must +be enthusiastic gardeners. The man glanced around at the magnolia with +evident pride, and was about to answer when the woman rose and with a +pleasant, quiet cordiality said: + +"Won't you step up and have a chair?" + +I swung my bag from my shoulder and took the proffered seat. As I did so +I saw, on the table just behind me a number magazines and books--books +of unusual sizes and shapes, indicating that they were not mere summer +novels. + +"They like books!" I said to myself, with a sudden rise of spirits. + +"I have tried magnolias, too," said the man, "but this is the only one +that has been really successful. It is a Chinese white magnolia." + +"The one Downing describes?" I asked. + +This was also a random shot, but I conjectured that if they loved both +books gardens they would know Downing--Bible of the gardener. And if +they did, we belonged to the same church. + +"The very same," exclaimed the woman; "it was Downing's enthusiasm for +the Chinese magnolia which led us first to try it." + +With that, like true disciples, we fell into great talk of Downing, +at first all in praise of him, and later--for may not the faithful be +permitted latitude in their comments so long as it is all within the +cloister?--we indulged in a bit of higher criticism. + +"It won't do," said the man, "to follow too slavishly every detail of +practice as recommended by Downing. We have learned a good many things +since the forties." + +"The fact is," I said, "no literal-minded man should be trusted with +Downing." + +"Any more than with the Holy Scriptures," exclaimed the woman. + +"Exactly!" I responded with the greatest enthusiasm; "exactly! We go to +him for inspiration, for fundamental teachings, for the great literature +and poetry of the art. Do you remember," I asked, "that passage in +which Downing quotes from some old Chinaman upon the true secret of the +pleasures of a garden--?" + +"Do we?" exclaimed the man, jumping up instantly; "do we? Just let me +get the book--" + +With that he went into the house and came back immediately bringing a +lamp in one hand--for it had grown pretty dark--and a familiar, portly, +blue-bound book in the other. While he was gone the woman said: + +"You have touched Mr. Vedder in his weakest spot." + +"I know of no combination in this world," said I, "so certain to produce +a happy heart as good books and a farm or garden." + +Mr. Vedder, having returned, slipped on his spectacles, sat forward on +the edge of his rocking-chair, and opened the book with pious hands. + +"I'll find it," he said. "I can put my finger right on it." + +"You'll find it," said Mrs. Vedder, "in the chapter on 'Hedges.'" + +"You are wrong, my dear," he responded, "it is in 'Mistakes of Citizens +in Country Life.'" + + +He turned the leaves eagerly. + +"No," he said, "here it is in 'Rural Taste.' Let me read you the +passage, Mr.--" + +"Grayson." + +"--Mr. Grayson. The Chinaman's name was Lieu-tscheu. 'What is it,' asks +this old Chinaman, 'that we seek in the pleasure of a garden? It has +always been agreed that these plantations should make men amends +for living at a distance from what would be their more congenial +and agreeable dwelling-place--in the midst of nature, free and +unrestrained.'" + +"That's it," I exclaimed, "and the old Chinaman was right! A garden +excuses civilization." + +"It's what brought us here," said Mrs. Vedder. + +With that we fell into the liveliest discussion of gardening and farming +and country life in all their phases, resolving that while there were +bugs and blights, and droughts and floods, yet upon the whole there was +no life so completely satisfying as life in which one may watch daily +the unfolding of natural life. + +A hundred things we talked about freely that had often risen dimly in +my own mind almost to the point--but not quite--of spilling over into +articulate form. The marvellous thing about good conversation is that +it brings to birth so many half-realized thoughts of our own--besides +sowing the seed of innumerable other thought-plants. How they enjoyed +their garden, those two, and not only the garden itself, but all the +lore and poetry of gardening! + +We had been talking thus an hour or more when, quite unexpectedly, I had +what was certainly one of the most amusing adventures of my whole life. +I can scarcely think of it now without a thrill of pleasure. I have had +pay for my work in many but never such a reward as this. + +"By the way," said Mr. Vedder, "I have recently come across a book which +is full of the spirit of the garden as we have long known it, although +the author is not treating directly of gardens, but of farming and of +human nature." + +"It is really all one subject," I interrupted. + +"Certainly," said Mr. Vedder, "but many gardeners are nothing but +gardeners. Well, the book to which I refer is called 'Adventures in +Contentment,' and is by--Why, a man of your own name!" + +With that Mr. Vedder reached for a book--a familiar-looking book--on the +table, but Mrs. Vedder looked at me. I give you my word, my heart turned +entirely over, and in a most remarkable way righted itself again; and I +saw Roman candles and Fourth of July rockets in front of my eyes. Never +in all my experience was I so completely bowled over. I felt like +a small boy who has been caught in the pantry with one hand in the +jam-pot--and plenty of jam on his nose. And like that small boy I +enjoyed the jam, but did not like being caught at it. + +Mr. Vedder had no sooner got the book in his hand than I saw Mrs. Vedder +rising as though she had seen a spectre, and pointing dramatically at +me, she exclaimed: + +"You are David Grayson!" + +I can say truthfully now that I know how the prisoner at the bar must +feel when the judge, leaning over his desk, looks at him sternly and +says: + +"I declare you guilty of the offence as charged, and sentence you--" and +so on, and so on. + +Mr. Vedder stiffened up, and I can see him yet looking at me through his +glasses. I must have looked as foolishly guilty as any man ever looked, +for Mr. Vedder said promptly: + +"Let me take you by the hand, sir. We know you, and have known you for a +long time." + +I shall not attempt to relate the conversation which followed, nor tell +of the keen joy I had in it--after the first cold plunge. We found that +we had a thousand common interests and enthusiasms. I had to tell them +of my farm, and why I had left it temporarily, and of the experiences on +the road. No sooner had I related what had befallen me at the Stanleys' +than Mrs. Vedder disappeared into the house and came out again presently +with a tray loaded with cold meat, bread, a pitcher of fine milk, and +other good things. + +"I shall not offer any excuses," said I, "I'm hungry," and with that I +laid in, Mr. Vedder helping with the milk, and all three of us talking +as fast as ever we could. + +It was nearly midnight when at last Mr. Vedder led the way to the +immaculate little bedroom where I spent the night. + +The next morning I awoke early, and quietly dressing, slipped down +to the garden and walked about among the trees and the shrubs and the +flower-beds. The sun was just coming up over the hill, the air was +full of the fresh odours of morning, and the orioles and cat-birds were +singing. + +In the back of the garden I found a charming rustic arbour with seats +around a little table. And here I sat down to listen to the morning +concert, and I saw, cut or carved upon the table, this verse, which so +pleased me that I copied it in my book: + + A garden is a lovesome thing, God wot! + Rose plot, + Fringed pool, + Ferned grot-- + The veriest school of peace; and yet + the fool + Contends that God is not-- + Not God! in gardens? when the even + is cool? + Nay, but I have a sign, + 'Tis very sure God walks in mine. + +I looked about after copying this verse, and said aloud: + +"I like this garden: I like these Vedders." + +And with that I had a moment of wild enthusiasm. + +"I will come," I said, "and buy a little garden next them, and bring +Harriet, and we will live here always. What's a farm compared with a +friend?" + +But with that I thought of the Scotch preacher, and of Horace, and Mr. +and Mrs. Starkweather, and I knew I could never leave the friends at +home. + +"It's astonishing how many fine people there are in this world," I said +aloud; "one can't escape them!" + +"Good morning, David Grayson," I heard some one saying, and glancing up +I saw Mrs. Vedder at the doorway. "Are you hungry?" + +"I am always hungry," I said. + +Mr. Vedder came out and linking his arm in mine and pointing out various +spireas and Japanese barberries, of which he was very proud, we walked +into the house together. + +I did not think of it especially at time--Harriet says I never see +anything really worth while, by which she means dishes, dresses, +doilies, and such like but as I remembered afterward the table that Mrs. +Vedder set was wonderfully dainty--dainty not merely with flowers (with +which it was loaded), but with the quality of the china and silver. It +was plainly the table of no ordinary gardener or caretaker--but this +conclusion did not come to me until afterward, for as I remember it, we +were in a deep discussion of fertilizers. + +Mrs. Vedder cooked and served breakfast herself, and did it with a skill +almost equal to Harriet's--so skillfully that the talk went on and we +never once heard the machinery of service. + +After breakfast we all went out into the garden, Mrs. Vedder in an +old straw hat and a big apron, and Mr. Vedder in a pair of old brown +overalls. Two men had appeared from somewhere, and were digging in the +vegetable garden. After giving them certain directions Mr. Vedder and +I both found five-tined forks and went into the rose garden and began +turning over the rich soil, while Mrs. Vedder, with pruning-shears, kept +near us, cutting out the dead wood. + +It was one of the charming forenoons of my life. This pleasant work, +spiced with the most interesting conversation and interrupted by a +hundred little excursions into other parts of the garden, to see this +or that wonder of vegetation, brought us to dinner-time before we fairly +knew it. + +About the middle of the afternoon I made the next discovery. I heard +first the choking cough of a big motor-car in the country road, and +a moment later it stopped at our gate. I thought I saw the Vedders +exchanging significant glances. A number of merry young people tumbled +out, and an especially pretty girl of about twenty came running through +the garden. + +"Mother," she exclaimed, "you MUST come with us!" + +"I can't, I can't," said Mrs. Vedder, "the roses MUST be pruned--and +see! The azaleas are coming into bloom." + +With that she presented me to her daughter. + +And, then, shortly, for it could no longer be concealed, I learned that +Mr. and Mrs. Vedder were not the caretakers but the owners of the estate +and of the great house I had seen on the hill. That evening, with an air +almost of apology, they explained to me how it all came about. + +"We first came out here," said Mrs. Vedder, "nearly twenty years ago, +and built the big house on the hill. But the more we came to know +of country life the more we wanted to get down into it. We found it +impossible up there--so many unnecessary things to see to and care +for--and we couldn't--we didn't see--" + +"The fact is," Mr. Vedder put in, "we were losing touch with each +other." + +"There is nothing like a big house," said Mrs. Vedder, "to separate a +man and his wife." + +"So we came down here," said Mr. Vedder, "built this little cottage, and +developed this garden mostly with our own hands. We would have sold the +big house long ago if it hadn't been for our friends. They like it." + +"I have never heard a more truly romantic story," said I. + +And it WAS romantic: these fine people escaping from too many +possessions, too much property, to the peace and quietude of a garden +where they could be lovers again. + +"It seems, sometimes," said Mrs. Vedder, "that I never really believed +in God until we came down here--" + +"I saw the verse on the table in the arbour," said I. + +"And it is true," said Mr. Vedder. "We got a long, long way from God for +many years: here we seem to get back to Him." + +I had fully intended to take the road again that afternoon, but how +could any one leave such people as those? We talked again late that +night, but the next morning, at the leisurely Sunday breakfast, I set +my hour of departure with all the firmness I could command. I left +them, indeed, before ten o'clock that forenoon. I shall never forget +the parting. They walked with me to the top of the hill, and there we +stopped and looked back. We could see the cottage half hidden among the +trees, and the little opening that the precious garden made. For a time +we stood there quite silent. + +"Do you remember," I said presently, "that character in Homer who was +a friend of men and lived in a house by the side of the road? I shall +always think of you as friends of men--you took in a dusty traveller. +And I shall never forget your house by the side of the road." + +"The House by the Side of the Road--you have christened it anew, David +Grayson," exclaimed Mrs. Vedder. + +And so we parted like old friends, and I left them to return to their +garden, where "'tis very sure God walks." + + + +CHAPTER IV. I AM THE SPECTATOR OF A MIGHTY BATTLE, IN WHICH CHRISTIAN +MEETS APPOLLYON + +It is one of the prime joys of the long road that no two days are ever +remotely alike--no two hours even; and sometimes a day that begins +calmly will end with the most stirring events. + +It was thus, indeed, with that perfect spring Sunday, when I left my +friends, the Vedders, and turned my face again to the open country. It +began as quietly as any Sabbath morning of my life, but what an end it +had! I would have travelled a thousand miles for the adventures which a +bounteous road that day spilled carelessly into my willing hands. + +I can give no adequate reason why it should be so, but there are Sunday +mornings in the spring--at least in our country--which seem to put on, +like a Sabbath garment, an atmosphere of divine quietude. Warm, soft, +clear, but, above all, immeasurably serene. + +Such was that Sunday morning; and I was no sooner well afoot than I +yielded to the ingratiating mood of the day. Usually I am an active +walker, loving the sense of quick motion and the stir it imparts to both +body and mind, but that morning I found myself loitering, looking widely +about me, and enjoying the lesser and quieter aspects of nature. It was +a fine wooded country in which I found myself, and I soon struck off the +beaten road and took to the forest and the fields. In places the ground +was almost covered with meadow-rue, like green shadows on the hillsides, +not yet in seed, but richly umbrageous. In the long green grass of the +meadows shone the yellow star-flowers, and the sweet-flags were blooming +along the marshy edges of the ponds. The violets had disappeared, but +they were succeeded by wild geraniums and rank-growing vetches. + +I remember that I kept thinking from time to time, all the forenoon, as +my mind went back swiftly and warmly to the two fine friends from whom I +had so recently parted: + +How the Vedders would enjoy this! Or, I must tell the Vedders that. And +two or three times I found myself in animated conversations with them +in which I generously supplied all three parts. It may be true for some +natures, as Leonardo said, that "if you are alone you belong wholly to +yourself; if you have a companion, you belong only half to yourself"; +but it is certainly not so with me. With me friendship never divides: it +multiplies. A friend always makes me more than I am, better than I am, +bigger than I am. We two make four, or fifteen, or forty. + +Well, I loitered through the fields and woods for a long time that +Sunday forenoon, not knowing in the least that Chance held me close +by the hand and was leading me onward to great events. I knew, of +course, that I had yet to find a place for the night, and that this might +be difficult on Sunday, and yet I spent that forenoon as a man spends +his immortal youth--with a glorious disregard for the future. + + +Some time after noon--for the sun was high and the day was growing much +warmer--I turned from the road, climbed an inviting little hill, and +chose a spot in an old meadow in the shade of an apple tree and there +I lay down on the grass, and looked up into the dusky shadows of the +branches above me. I could feel the soft airs on my face; I could hear +the buzzing of bees in the meadow flowers, and by turning my head just a +little I could see the slow fleecy clouds, high up, drifting across the +perfect blue of the sky. And the scent of the fields in spring!--he who +has known it, even once, may indeed die happy. + +Men worship God in various ways: it seemed to me that Sabbath morning, +as I lay quietly there in the warm silence of midday, that I was truly +worshipping God. That Sunday morning everything about me seemed somehow +to be a miracle--a miracle gratefully accepted and explainable only by +the presence of God. There was another strange, deep feeling which I had +that morning, which I have had a few other times in my life at the rare +heights of experience--I hesitate always when I try to put down the +deep, deep things of the human heart--a feeling immeasurably real, +that if I should turn my head quickly I should indeed SEE that Immanent +Presence.... + +One of the few birds I know that sings through the long midday is the +vireo. The vireo sings when otherwise the woods are still. You do not +see him; you cannot find him; but you know he is there. And his singing +is wild, and shy, and mystical. Often it haunts you like the memory of +some former happiness. That day I heard the vireo singing.... + +I don't know how long I lay there under the tree in the meadow, but +presently I heard, from no great distance, the sound of a church-bell. +It was ringing for the afternoon service which among the farmers of this +part of the country often takes the place, in summer, of both morning +and evening services. + +"I believe I'll go," I said, thinking first of all, I confess, of the +interesting people I might meet there. + +But when I sat up and looked about me the desire faded, and rummaging +in my bag I came across my tin whistle. Immediately I began practising +a tune called "Sweet Afton," which I had learned when a boy; and, as +I played, my mood changed swiftly, and I began to smile at myself as +a tragically serious person, and to think of pat phrases with which to +characterize the execrableness of my attempts upon the tin whistle. I +should have liked some one near to joke with. + +Long ago I made a motto about boys: Look for a boy anywhere. Never be +surprised when you shake a cherry tree if a boy drops out of it; +never be disturbed when you think yourself in complete solitude if you +discover a boy peering out at you from a fence corner. + +I had not been playing long before I saw two boys looking at me from out +of a thicket by the roadside; and a moment later two others appeared. + +Instantly I switched into "Marching Through Georgia," and began to +nod my head and tap my toe in the liveliest fashion. Presently one boy +climbed up on the fence, then another, then a third. I continued to +play. The fourth boy, a little chap, ventured to climb up on the fence. + +They were bright-faced, tow-headed lads, all in Sunday clothes. + +"It's hard luck," said I, taking my whistle from my lips, "to have to +wear shoes and stockings on a warm Sunday like this." + +"You bet it is!" said the bold leader. + +"In that case," said I, "I will play 'Yankee Doodle.'" + +I played. All the boys, including the little chap, came up around me, +and two of them sat down quite familiarly on the grass. I never had a +more devoted audience. I don't know what interesting event might have +happened next, for the bold leader, who stood nearest, was becoming +dangerously inflated with questions--I don't know what might have +happened had we not been interrupted by the appearance of a Spectre in +Black. It appeared before us there in the broad daylight in the middle +of a sunny afternoon while we were playing "Yankee Doodle." First I +saw the top of a black hat rising over the rim of the hill. This was +followed quickly by a black tie, a long black coat, black trousers, and, +finally, black shoes. I admit I was shaken, but being a person of iron +nerve in facing such phenomena, I continued to play "Yankee Doodle." +In spite of this counter-attraction, toward which all four boys turned +uneasy glances, I held my audience. The Black Spectre, with a black book +under its arm, drew nearer. Still I continued to play and nod my head +and tap my toe. I felt like some modern Pied Piper piping away the +children of these modern hills--piping them away from older people who +could not understand them. + +I could see an accusing look on the Spectre's face. I don't know what +put it into my head, and I had no sooner said it than I was sorry for my +levity, but the figure with the sad garments there in the matchless and +triumphant spring day affected me with a curious, sharp impatience. Had +any one the right to look out so dolefully upon such a day and such a +scene of simple happiness as this? So I took my whistle from my lips and +asked: + +"Is God dead?" + +I shall never forget the indescribable look of horror and astonishment +that swept over the young man's face. + +"What do you mean, sir?" he asked with an air of stern authority which +surprised me. His calling for the moment lifted him above himself: it +was the Church which spoke. + +I was on my feet in an instant, regretting the pain I had given him; +and yet it seemed worth while now, having made my inadvertent remark, to +show him frankly what lay in my mind. Such things sometimes help men. + +"I meant no offence, sir," I said, "and I apologize for my flummery, but +when I saw you coming up the hill, looking so gloomy and disconsolate on +this bright day, as though you disapproved of God's world, the question +slipped out before I knew it." + +My words evidently struck deep down into some disturbed inner +consciousness, for he asked--and his words seemed to slip out before he +thought: + +"Is THAT the way I impressed you?" + +I found my heart going out strongly toward him. "Here," I thought to +myself, "is a man in trouble." + +I took a good long look at him. He still a young man, though +worn-looking--and sad as I now saw it, rather than gloomy--with the +sensitive lips and the unworldly look one sees sometimes in the faces of +saints. His black coat was immaculately neat, but the worn button-covers +and the shiny lapels told their own eloquent story. Oh, it seemed to me +I knew him as well as if every incident of his life were written +plainly upon his high, pale forehead! I have lived long in a country +neighbourhood, and I knew him--poor flagellant of the rural church--I +knew how he groaned under the sins of a Community too comfortably +willing to cast all its burdens on the Lord, or on the Lord's accredited +local representative. I inferred also the usual large family and the low +salary (scandalously unpaid) and the frequent moves from place to place. + +Unconsciously heaving a sigh the young man turned partly aside and said +to me in a low, gentle voice: + +"You are detaining my boys from church." + +"I am very sorry," I said, "and I will detain them no longer," and with +that I put aside my whistle, took up my bag and moved down the hill with +them. + +"The fact is," I said, "when I heard your bell I thought of going to +church myself." + +"Did you?" he asked eagerly. "Did you?" + +I could see that my proposal of going to church had instantly affected +his spirits. Then he hesitated abruptly with a sidelong glance at my bag +and rusty clothing. I could see exactly what was passing in his mind. + +"No," I said, smiling, as though answering a spoken question, "I am not +exactly what you would call a tramp." + +He flushed. + +"I didn't mean--I WANT you to come. That's what a church is for. If I +thought--" + +But he did not tell me what he thought; and, though he walked quietly +at my side, he was evidently deeply disturbed. Something of his +discouragement I sensed even then, and I don't think I was ever sorrier +for a man in my life than I was for him at that moment. Talk about the +suffering sinners! I wonder if they are to be compared with the trials +of the saints? + +So we approached the little white church, and caused, I am certain, +a tremendous sensation. Nowhere does the unpredictable, the unusual, +excite such confusion as in that settled institution--the church. + +I left my bag in the vestibule, where I have no doubt it was the object +of much inquiring and suspicious scrutiny, and took my place in a +convenient pew. It was a small church with an odd air of domesticity, +and the proportion of old ladies and children in the audience was +pathetically large. As a ruddy, vigorous, out-of-door person, with the +dust of life upon him, I felt distinctly out of place. + +I could pick out easily the Deacon, the Old Lady Who Brought Flowers, +the President of the Sewing Circle, and, above all, the Chief Pharisee, +sitting in his high place. The Chief Pharisee--his name I learned was +Nash, Mr. J. H. Nash (I did not know then that I was soon to make his +acquaintance)--the Chief Pharisee looked as hard as nails, a middle-aged +man with stiff chin-whiskers, small round, sharp eyes, and a pugnacious +jaw. + +"That man," said I to myself, "runs this church," and instantly I found +myself looking upon him as a sort of personification of the troubles I +had seen in the minister's eyes. + +I shall not attempt to describe the service in detail. There was a +discouraging droop and quaver in the singing, and the mournful-looking +deacon who passed the collection-plate seemed inured to disappointment. +The prayer had in it a note of despairing appeal which fell like a cold +hand upon one's living soul. It gave one the impression that this +was indeed a miserable, dark, despairing world, which deserved to be +wrathfully destroyed, and that this miserable world was full of equally +miserable, broken, sinful, sickly people. + +The sermon was a little better, for somewhere hidden within him this +pale young man had a spark of the divine fire, but it was so dampened by +the atmosphere of the church that it never rose above a pale luminosity. + +I found the service indescribably depressing. I had an impulse to rise +up and cry out--almost anything to shock these people into opening their +eyes upon real life. Indeed, though I hesitate about setting it down +here, I was filled for some time with the liveliest imaginings of the +following serio-comic enterprise: + +I would step up the aisle, take my place in front of the Chief Pharisee, +wag my finger under his nose, and tell him a thing or two about the +condition of the church. + +"The only live thing here," I would tell him, "is the spark in that pale +minister's soul; and you're doing your best to smother that." + +And I fully made up my mind that when he answered back in his +chief-pharisaical way I would gently--but firmly remove him from his +seat, shake him vigorously two or three times (men's souls have often +been saved with less!), deposit him flat in the aisle, and yes--stand on +him while I elucidated the situation to the audience at large. While +I confined this amusing and interesting project to the humours of the +imagination I am still convinced that something of the sort would have +helped enormously in clearing up the religious and moral atmosphere of +the place. + +I had a wonderful sensation of relief when at last I stepped out again +into the clear afternoon sunshine and got a reviving glimpse of the +smiling green hills and the quiet fields and the sincere trees--and felt +the welcome of the friendly road. + +I would have made straight for the hills, but the thought of that pale +minister held me back; and I waited quietly there under the trees till +he came out. He was plainly looking for me, and asked me to wait and +walk along with him, at which his four boys, whose acquaintance I had +made under such thrilling circumstances earlier in the day, seemed +highly delighted, and waited with me under the tree and told me a +hundred important things about a certain calf, a pig, a kite, and other +things at home. + +Arriving at the minister's gate, I was invited in with a +whole-heartedness that was altogether charming. The minister's wife, +a faded-looking woman who had once possessed a delicate sort of +prettiness, was waiting for us on the steps with a fine chubby baby on +her arm--number five. + +The home was much the sort of place I had imagined--a small house +undesirably located (but cheap!), with a few straggling acres of +garden and meadow upon which the minister and his boys were trying with +inexperienced hands to piece out their inadequate living. At the very +first glimpse of the garden I wanted to throw off my coat and go at it. + +And yet--and yet----what a wonderful thing love is! There was, after +all, something incalculable, something pervasively beautiful about this +poor household. The moment the minister stepped inside his own door he +became a different and livelier person. Something boyish crept into his +manner, and a new look came into the eyes of his faded wife that made +her almost pretty again. And the fat, comfortable baby rolled and +gurgled about on the floor as happily as though there had been two +nurses and a governess to look after him. As for the four boys, I have +never seen healthier or happier ones. + +I sat with them at their Sunday-evening luncheon. As the minister bowed +his head to say grace I felt him clasp my hand on one side while the +oldest boy clasped my hand on the other, and thus, linked together, and +accepting the stranger utterly, the family looked up to God. + +There was a fine, modest gayety about the meal. In front of Mrs. +Minister stood a very large yellow bowl filled with what she called +rusk--a preparation unfamiliar to me, made by browning and crushing the +crusts of bread and then rolling them down into a coarse meal. A bowl of +this, with sweet, rich, yellow milk (for they kept their own cow), made +one of the most appetizing dishes that ever I ate. It was downright +good: it gave one the unalloyed aroma of the sweet new milk and the +satisfying taste of the crisp bread. + +Nor have I ever enjoyed a more perfect hospitality. I have been in +many a richer home where there was not a hundredth part of the true +gentility--the gentility of unapologizing simplicity and kindness. + +And after it was over and cleared away--the minister himself donning a +long apron and helping his wife--and the chubby baby put to bed, we all +sat around the table in the gathering twilight. + +I think men perish sometimes from sheer untalked talk. For lack of +a creative listener they gradually fill up with unexpressed emotion. +Presently this emotion begins to ferment, and finally--bang!--they blow +up, burst, disappear in thin air. In all that community I suppose there +was no one but the little faded wife to whom the minister dared open his +heart, and I think he found me a godsend. All I really did was to look +from one to the other and put in here and there an inciting comment or +ask an understanding question. After he had told me his situation and +the difficulties which confronted him and his small church, he exclaimed +suddenly: + +"A minister should by rights be a leader, not only inside of his church, +but outside it in the community." + +"You are right," I exclaimed with great earnestness; "you are right." + +And with that I told him of our own Scotch preacher and how he led and +moulded our community; and as I talked I could see him actually growing, +unfolding, under my eyes. + +"Why," said I, "you not only ought to be the moral leader of this +community, but you are!" + +"That's what I tell him," exclaimed his wife. + +"But he persists in thinking, doesn't he, that he is a poor sinner?" + +"He thinks it too much," she laughed. + +"Yes, yes," he said, as much to himself as to us, "a minister ought to +be a fighter!" + +It was beautiful, the boyish flush which now came into his face and the +light that came into his eyes. I should never have identified him with +the Black Spectre of the afternoon. + +"Why," said I, "you ARE a fighter; you're fighting the greatest battle +in the world today--the only real battle--the battle for the spiritual +view of life." + +Oh, I knew exactly what was the trouble with his religion--at least the +religion which, under the pressure of that church he felt obliged to +preach! It was the old, groaning, denying, resisting religion. It was +the sort of religion which sets a man apart and assures him that the +entire universe in the guise of the Powers of Darkness is leagued +against him. What he needed was a reviving draught of the new faith +which affirms, accepts, rejoices, which feels the universe triumphantly +behind it. And so whenever the minister told me what he ought to be--for +he too sensed the new impulse--I merely told him he was just that. He +needed only this little encouragement to unfold. + +"Yes," said he again, "I am the real moral leader here." + +At this I saw Mrs. Minister nodding her head vigorously. + +"It's you," she said, "and not Mr. Nash, who should lead this +community." + +How a woman loves concrete applications. She is your only true +pragmatist. If a philosophy will not work, says she, why bother with it? + +The minister rose quickly from his chair, threw back his head, and +strode quickly up and down the room. + +"You are right," said he; "and I WILL lead it. I'll have my farmers' +meetings as I planned." + +It may have been the effect of the lamplight, but it seemed to me that +little Mrs. Minister, as she glanced up at him, looked actually pretty. + +The minister continued to stride up and down the room with his chin in +the air. + +"Mr. Nash," said she in a low voice to me, "is always trying to hold +him down and keep him back. My husband WANTS to do the great +things"--wistfully. + +"By every right," the minister was repeating, quite oblivious of our +presence, "I should lead these people." + +"He sees the weakness of the church," she continued, "as well as +any one, and he wants to start some vigorous community work--have +agricultural meetings and boys' clubs, and lots of things like that--but +Mr. Nash says it is no part of a minister's work: that it cheapens +religion. He says that when a parson--Mr. Nash always calls him parson, +and I just LOATHE that name--has preached, and prayed, and visited the +sick, that's enough for HIM." + +At this very moment a step sounded upon the walk, and an instant later a +figure appeared in the doorway. + +"Why, Mr. Nash," exclaimed little Mrs. Minister, exhibiting that +astonishing gift of swift recovery which is the possession of even the +simplest women, "come right in." + +It was some seconds before the minister could come down from the heights +and greet Mr. Nash. As for me, I was never more interested in my life. + +"Now," said I to myself, "we shall see Christian meet Apollyon." + +As soon as Mrs. Minister lighted the lamp I was introduced to the great +man. He looked at me sharply with his small, round eyes, and said: + +"Oh, you are the--the man who was in church this afternoon." + +I admitted it, and he looked around at the minister with an accusing +expression. He evidently did not approve of me, nor could I wholly blame +him, for I knew well how he, as a rich farmer, must look upon a rusty +man of the road like me. I should have liked dearly to cross swords with +him myself, but greater events were imminent. + +In no time at all the discussion, which had evidently been broken off at +some previous meeting, concerning the proposed farmers' assembly at the +church, had taken on a really lively tone. Mr. Nash was evidently in +the somewhat irritable mood with which important people may sometimes +indulge themselves, for he bit off his words in a way that was +calculated to make any but an unusually meek and saintly man exceedingly +uncomfortable. But the minister, with the fine, high humility of those +whose passion is for great or true things, was quite oblivious to the +harsh words. Borne along by an irresistible enthusiasm, he told in +glowing terms what his plan would mean to the community, how the +people needed a new social and civic spirit--a "neighbourhood religious +feeling" he called it. And as he talked his face flushed, and his eyes +shone with the pure fire of a great purpose. But I could see that all +this enthusiasm impressed the practical Mr. Nash as mere moonshine. +He grew more and more uneasy. Finally he brought his hand down with a +resounding thwack upon his knee, and said in a high, cutting voice: + +"I don't believe in any such newfangled nonsense. It ain't none of a +parson's business what the community does. You're hired, ain't you, an' +paid to run the church? That's the end of it. We ain't goin' to have any +mixin' of religion an' farmin' in THIS neighbourhood." + +My eyes were on the pale man of God. I felt as though a human soul were +being weighed in the balance. What would he do now? What was he worth +REALLY as a man as well as a minister? + +He paused a moment with downcast eyes. I saw little Mrs. Minister glance +at him--once--wistfully. He rose from his place, drew himself up to his +full height--I shall not soon forget the look on his face--and uttered +these amazing words: + +"Martha, bring the ginger-jar." + +Mrs. Minister, without a word, went to a little cupboard on the farther +side of the room and took down a brown earthenware jar, which she +brought over and placed on the table, Mr. Nash following her movements +with astonished eyes. No one spoke. + +The minister took the jar in his hands as he might the communion-cup +just before saying the prayer of the sacrament. + +"Mr. Nash," said he in a loud voice, "I've decided to hold that farmers' +meeting." + +Before Mr. Nash could reply the minister seated himself and was pouring +out the contents of the jar upon the table--a clatter of dimes, nickels, +pennies, a few quarters and half dollars, and a very few bills. + +"Martha, just how much money is there?" + +"Twenty-four dollars and sixteen cents." + +The minister put his hand into his pocket and, after counting out +certain coins, said: + +"Here's one dollar and eighty-four cents more. That makes twenty-six +dollars. Now, Mr. Nash, you're the largest contributor to my salary in +this neighbourhood. You gave twenty-six dollars last year--fifty cents a +week. It is a generous contribution, but I cannot take it any longer. +It is fortunate that my wife has saved up this money to buy a +sewing-machine, so that we can pay back your contribution in full." + +He paused; no one of us spoke a word. + +"Mr. Nash," he continued, and his face was good to see, "I am the +minister here. I am convinced that what the community needs is more of a +religious and social spirit, and I am going about getting it in the way +the Lord leads me." + +At this I saw Mrs. Minister look up at her husband with such a light in +her eyes as any man might well barter his life for--I could not keep my +own eyes from pure beauty of it. + +I knew too what this defiance meant. It meant that this little family +was placing its all upon the altar--even the pitiful coins for which +they had skimped and saved for months for a particular purpose. Talk of +the heroism of the men who charged with Pickett at Gettysburg! Here was +a courage higher and whiter than that; here was a courage that dared to +fight alone. + +As for Mr. Nash, the face of that Chief Pharisee was a study. Nothing is +so paralyzing to a rich man as to find suddenly that his money will +no longer command him any advantage. Like all hard-shelled, practical +people, Mr. Nash could only dominate in a world which recognized the +same material supremacy that he recognized. Any one who insisted upon +flying was lost to Mr. Nash. + +The minister pushed the little pile of coins toward him. + +"Take it, Mr. Nash," said he. + +At that Mr. Nash rose hastily. + +"I will not," he said gruffly. + +He paused, and looked at the minister with a strange expression in his +small round eyes--was it anger, or was it fear, or could it have been +admiration? + +"If you want to waste your time on fiddlin' farmers' meetings--a man +that knows as little of farmin' as you do--why go ahead for all o' me. +But don't count me in." + +He turned, reached for his hat, and then went out of the door into the +darkness. + +For a moment we all sat perfectly silent, then the minister rose, and +said solemnly: + +"Martha, let's sing something." + +Martha crossed the room to the cottage organ and seated herself on the +stool. + +"What shall we sing?" said she. + +"Something with fight in it, Martha," he responded; "something with +plenty of fight in it." + +So we sang "Onward, Christian Soldier, Marching as to War," and followed +up with: + +Awake, my soul, stretch every nerve And press with rigour on; A heavenly +race demands thy zeal And an immortal crown. + + +When we had finished, and as Martha rose from her seat, the minister +impulsively put his hands on her shoulders, and said: + +"Martha, this is the greatest night of my life." + +He took a turn up and down the room, and then with an exultant boyish +laugh said: + +"We'll go to town to-morrow and pick out that sewing-machine!" + + +I remained with them that night and part of the following day, taking +a hand with them in the garden, but of the events of that day I shall +speak in another chapter. + + + +CHAPTER V. I PLAY THE PART OF A SPECTACLE PEDDLER + +Yesterday was exactly the sort of a day I love best--a spicy, +unexpected, amusing day--crowned with a droll adventure. + +I cannot account for it, but it seems to me I take the road each morning +with a livelier mind and keener curiosity. If you were to watch me +narrowly these days you would see I am slowly shedding my years. I +suspect that some one of the clear hill streams from which I have been +drinking (lying prone on my face) was in reality the fountain of eternal +youth. I shall not go back to see. + +It seems to me, when I feel like this, that in every least thing upon +the roadside, or upon the hill, lurks the stuff of adventure. What a +world it is! A mile south of here I shall find all that Stanley found in +the jungles of Africa; a mile north I am Peary at the Pole! + +You there, brown-clad farmer on the tall seat of your wagon, driving +townward with a red heifer for sale, I can show you that life--your +life--is not all a gray smudge, as you think it is, but crammed, packed, +loaded with miraculous things. I can show you wonders past belief in +your own soul. I can easily convince you that you are in reality a poet, +a hero, a true lover, a saint. + +It is because we are not humble enough in the presence of the divine +daily fact that adventure knocks so rarely at our door. A thousand times +I have had to learn this truth (what lesson so hard to learn as the +lesson of humility!) and I suppose I shall have to learn it a thousand +times more. This very day, straining my eyes to see the distant wonders +of the mountains, I nearly missed a miracle by the roadside. + +Soon after leaving the minister and his family--I worked with them in +their garden with great delight most of the forenoon--I came, within a +mile--to the wide white turnpike--the Great Road. + +Now, I usually prefer the little roads, the little, unexpected, curving, +leisurely country roads. The sharp hills, the pleasant deep valleys, the +bridges not too well kept, the verdure deep grown along old fences, the +houses opening hospitably at the very roadside, all these things I love. +They come to me with the same sort of charm and flavour, only vastly +magnified, which I find often in the essays of the older writers--those +leisurely old fellows who took time to write, REALLY write. The +important thing to me about a road, as about life--and literature, is +not that it goes anywhere, but that it is livable while it goes. For +if I were to arrive--and who knows that I ever shall arrive?--I think I +should be no happier than I am here. + +Thus I have commonly avoided the Great White Road--the broad, smooth +turnpike--rock-bottomed and rolled by a State--without so much as a +loitering curve to whet one's curiosity, nor a thank-you-ma'am to laugh +over, nor a sinful hill to test your endurance--not so much as a dreamy +valley! It pursues its hard, unshaded, practical way directly from some +particular place to some other particular place and from time to time a +motor-car shoots in at one end of it and out at the other, leaving its +dust to settle upon quiet travellers like me. + +Thus to-day when I came to the turnpike I was at first for making +straight across it and taking to the hills beyond, but at that very +moment a motor-car whirled past me as I stood there and a girl with a +merry face waved her hand at me. I lifted my hat in return--and as +I watched them out of sight I felt a curious new sense of warmth and +friendliness there in the Great Road. + +"These are just people, too," I said aloud--"and maybe they really like +it!" + +And with that I began laughing at myself, and at the whole, big, +amazing, interesting world. Here was I pitying them for their benighted +state, and there were they, no doubt, pitying me for mine! + +And with that pleasant and satisfactory thought in my mind and a song in +my throat I swung into the Great Road. + +"It doesn't matter in the least," said I to myself, "whether a man takes +hold of life by the great road or the little ones so long as he takes +hold." + +And oh, it was a wonderful day! A day with movement in it; a day that +flowed! In every field the farmers were at work, the cattle fed widely +in the meadows, and the Great Road itself was alive with a hundred +varied sorts of activity. Light winds stirred the tree-tops and rippled +in the new grass; and from the thickets I heard the blackbirds crying. +Everything animate and inanimate, that morning, seemed to have its +own clear voice and to cry out at me for my interest, or curiosity, or +sympathy. Under such circumstances it could not have been long--nor +was it long--before I came plump upon the first of a series of odd +adventures. + + +A great many people, I know, abominate the roadside sign. It seems to +them a desecration of nature, the intrusion of rude commercialism upon +the perfection of natural beauty. But not I. I have no such feeling. +Oh, the signs in themselves are often rude and unbeautiful, and I +never wished my own barn or fences to sing the praises of swamp root or +sarsaparilla--and yet there is something wonderfully human about these +painted and pasted vociferations of the roadside signs; and I don't +know why they are less "natural" in their way than a house or barn or +a planted field of corn. They also tell us about life. How eagerly they +cry out at us, "Buy me, buy me!" What enthusiasm they have in their +own concerns, what boundless faith in themselves! How they speak of the +enormous energy, activity, resourcefulness of human kind! + +Indeed, I like all kinds of signs. The autocratic warnings of the road, +the musts and the must-nots of traffic, I observe in passing; and I +often stand long at the crossings and look up at the finger-posts, and +consider my limitless wealth as a traveller. By this road I may, at my +own pleasure, reach the Great City; by that--who knows?--the far wonders +of Cathay. And I respond always to the appeal which the devoted pilgrim +paints on the rocks at the roadside: "Repent ye, for the kingdom of God +is at hand," and though I am certain that the kingdom of God is already +here, I stop always and repent--just a little--knowing that there is +always room for it. At the entrance of the little towns, also, or in +the squares of the villages, I stop often to read the signs of taxes +assessed, or of political meetings; I see the evidences of homes broken +up in the notices of auction sales, and of families bereaved in the dry +and formal publications of the probate court. I pause, too, before +the signs of amusements flaming red and yellow on the barns (boys, the +circus is coming to town!), and I pause also, but no longer, to read +the silent signs carved in stone in the little cemeteries as I pass. +Symbols, you say? Why, they're the very stuff of life. If you cannot see +life here in the wide road, you will never see it at all. + +Well, I saw a sign yesterday at the roadside that I never saw anywhere +before. It was not a large sign--indeed rather inconspicuous--consisting +of a single word rather crudely painted in black (as by an amateur) upon +a white board. It was nailed to a tree where those in swift passing cars +could not avoid seeing it: + +[ REST ] + +I cannot describe the odd sense of enlivenment, of pleasure I had when I +saw this new sign. + +"Rest!" I exclaimed aloud. "Indeed I will," and I sat down on a stone +not far away. + +"Rest!" + +What a sign for this very spot! Here in the midst of the haste and +hurry of the Great Road a quiet voice was saying, "Rest." Some one with +imagination, I thought, evidently put that up; some quietist offering +this mild protest against the breathless progress of the age. How often +I have felt the same way myself--as though I were being swept onward +through life faster than I could well enjoy it. For nature passes the +dishes far more rapidly than we can help ourselves. + +Or perhaps, thought I, eagerly speculating, this may be only some +cunning advertiser with rest for sale (in these days even rest has its +price), thus piquing the curiosity of the traveller for the disclosure +which he will make a mile or so farther on. Or else some humourist +wasting his wit upon the Fraternity of the Road, too willing (like me, +perhaps) to accept his ironical advice. But it would be well worth while +should I find him, to see him chuckle behind his hand. + +So I sat there very much interested, for a long time, even framing a +rather amusing picture in my own mind of the sort of person who painted +these signs, deciding finally that he must be a zealot rather than a +trader or humourist. (Confidentially, I could not make a picture of +him in which he was not endowed with plentiful long hair). As I walked +onward again, I decided that in any guise I should like to see him, and +I enjoyed thinking what I should say if I met him. A mile farther up the +road I saw another sign exactly like the first. + +"Here he is again," I said exultantly, and that sign being somewhat +nearer the ground I was able to examine it carefully front and back, but +it bore no evidence of its origin. + +In the next few miles I saw two other signs with nothing on them but the +word "Rest." + +Now this excellent admonition--like much of the excellent admonitions in +this world--affected me perversely: it made me more restless than ever. +I felt that I could not rest properly until I found out who wanted me to +rest, and why. It opened indeed a limitless vista for new adventure. + + +Presently, away ahead of me in the road, I saw a man standing near +a one-horse wagon. He seemed to be engaged in some activity near the +roadside, but I could not tell exactly what. As I hastened nearer I +discovered that he was a short, strongly built, sun-bronzed man in +working-clothes--and with the shortest of short hair. I saw him take a +shovel from the wagon and begin digging. He was the road-worker. + +I asked the road-worker if he had seen the curious signs. He looked up +at me with a broad smile (he had good-humoured, very bright blue eyes). + +"Yes," he said, "but they ain't for me." + +"Then you don't follow the advice they give?" + +"Not with a section like mine," said he, and he straightened up and +looked first one way of the road and then the other. "I have from Grabow +Brook, but not the bridge, to the top o' Sullivan Hill, and all the +culverts between, though two of 'em are by rights bridges. And I claim +that's a job for any full-grown man." + +He began shovelling again in the road as if to prove how busy he was. +There had been a small landslide from an open cut on one side and a +mass of gravel and small boulders lay scattered on the smooth macadam. I +watched him for a moment. I love to watch the motions of vigorous men +at work, the easy play of the muscles, the swing of the shoulders, the +vigour of stoutly planted legs. He evidently considered the conversation +closed, and I, as--well, as a dusty man of the road--easily dismissed. +(You have no idea, until you try it, what a weight of prejudice the man +of the road has to surmount before he is accepted on easy terms by the +ordinary members of the human race.) + +A few other well-intentioned observations on my part having elicited +nothing but monosyllabic replies, I put my bag down by the roadside +and, going up to the wagon, got out a shovel, and without a word took +my place at the other end of the landslide and began to shovel for all I +was worth. + +I said not a word to the husky road-worker and pretended not to look +at him, but I saw him well enough out of the corner of my eye. He was +evidently astonished and interested, as I knew he would be: it was +something entirely new on the road. He didn't quite know whether to be +angry, or amused, or sociable. I caught him looking over at me several +times, but I offered no response; then he cleared his throat and said: + +"Where you from?" + +I answered with a monosyllable which I knew he could not quite catch. +Silence again for some time, during which I shovelled valiantly and with +great inward amusement. Oh, there is nothing like cracking a hard human +nut! I decided at that moment, to have him invite me to supper. + +Finally, when I showed no signs of stopping my work, he himself paused +and leaned on his shovel. I kept right on. + +"Say, partner," said he, finally, "did YOU read those signs as you come +up the road?" + +"Yes," I said, "but they weren't for me, either. My section's a long +one, too." + +"Say, you ain't a road-worker, are you?" he asked eagerly. + +"Yes," said I, with a sudden inspiration, "that's exactly what I am--a +road-worker." + +"Put her there, then, partner," he said, with a broad smile on his +bronzed face. + +He and I struck hands, rested on our shovels (like old hands at it), and +looked with understanding into each other's eyes. We both knew the trade +and the tricks of the trade; all bars were down between us. The fact is, +we had both seen and profited by the peculiar signs at the roadside. + +"Where's your section?" he asked easily. + +"Well," I responded after considering the question, "I have a very long +and hard section. It begins at a place called Prosy Common--do you know +it?--and reaches to the top of Clear Hill. There are several bad spots +on the way, I can tell you." + +"Don't know it," said the husky road-worker; "'tain't round here, is it? +In the town of Sheldon, maybe?" + +Just at this moment, perhaps fortunately, for there is nothing so +difficult to satisfy as the appetite of people for specific information, +a motor-car whizzed past, the driver holding up his hand in greeting, +and the road-worker and I responding in accordance with the etiquette of +the Great Road. + +"There he goes in the ruts again," said the husky road-worker. "Why is +it, I'd like to know, that every one wants to run in the same identical +track when they've got the whole wide road before 'em?" + +"That's what has long puzzled me, too," I said. "Why WILL people +continue to run in ruts?" + +"It don't seem to do no good to put up signs," said the road-worker. + +"Very little indeed," said I. "The fact is, people have got to be bumped +out of the ruts they get into." + +"You're right," said he enthusiastically, and his voice dropped into the +tone of one speaking to a member of the inner guild. "I know how to get +'em." + +"How?" I asked in an equally mysterious voice. + +"I put a stone or two in the ruts!" + +"Do you?" I exclaimed. "I've done that very thing myself--many a time! +Just place a good hard tru--I mean stone, with a bit of common dust +sprinkled over it, in the middle of the rut, and they'll look out for +THAT rut for some time to come." + +"Ain't it gorgeous," said the husky road-worker, chuckling joyfully, "to +see 'em bump?" + +"It is," said I--"gorgeous." + +After that, shovelling part of the time in a leisurely way, and part of +the time responding to the urgent request of the signs by the roadside +(it pays to advertise!), the husky road-worker and I discussed many +great and important subjects, all, however, curiously related to roads. +Working all day long with his old horse, removing obstructions, draining +out the culverts, filling ruts and holes with new stone, and repairing +the damage of rain and storm, the road-worker was filled with a world of +practical information covering roads and road-making. And having learned +that I was of the same calling, we exchanged views with the greatest +enthusiasm. It was astonishing to see how nearly in agreement we were as +to what constituted an ideal road. + +"Almost everything," said he, "depends on depth. If you get a good solid +foundation, the' ain't anything that can break up your road." + +"Exactly what I have discovered," I responded. "Get down to bedrock and +do an honest job of building." + +"And don't have too many sharp turns." + +"No," said I, "long, leisurely curves are best--all through life. You +have observed that nearly all the accidents on the road are due to sharp +turnings." + +"Right you are!" he exclaimed. + +"A man who tries to turn too sharply on his way nearly always skids." + +"Or else turns turtle in the ditch." + +But it was not until we reached the subject of oiling that we mounted to +the real summit of enthusiastic agreement. Of all things on the road, or +above the road, or in the waters under the road, there is nothing that +the road-worker dislikes more than oil. + +"It's all right," said he, "to use oil for surfacin' and to keep down +the dust. You don't need much and it ain't messy. But sometimes when you +see oil pumped on a road, you know that either the contractor has been +jobbin', or else the road's worn out and ought to be rebuilt." + +"That's exactly what I've found," said I. "Let a road become almost +impassable with ruts and rocks and dust, and immediately some man says, +'Oh, it's all right--put on a little oil--'" + +"That's what our supervisor is always sayin'," said the road-worker. + +"Yes," I responded, "it usually is the supervisor. He lives by it. He +wants to smooth over the defects, he wants to lay the dust that every +passerby kicks up, he tries to smear over the truth regarding conditions +with messy and ill-smelling oil. Above everything, he doesn't want the +road dug up and rebuilt--says it will interfere with traffic, injure +business, and even set people to talking about changing the route +entirely! Oh, haven't I seen it in religion, where they are doing their +best to oil up roads that are entirely worn out--and as for politics, is +not the cry of the party-roadster and the harmony-oilers abroad in the +land?" + +In the excited interest with which this idea now bore me along I had +entirely forgotten the existence of my companion, and as I now glanced +at him I saw him standing with a curious look of astonishment and +suspicion on his face. I saw that I had unintentionally gone a little +too far. So I said abruptly: + +"Partner, let's get a drink. I'm thirsty." + +He followed me, I thought a bit reluctantly, to a little brook not +far up the road where we had been once before. As we were drinking, +silently, I looked at the stout young fellow standing there, and I +thought to myself: + +What a good, straightforward young fellow he is anyway, and how +thoroughly he knows his job. I thought how well he was equipped with +unilluminated knowledge, and it came to me whimsically, that here was a +fine bit of road-mending for me to do. + +Most people have sight, but few have insight; and as I looked into +the clear blue eyes of my friend I had a sudden swift inspiration, and +before I could repent of it I had said to him in the most serious voice +that I could command: + +"Friend, I am in reality a spectacle-peddler--" + +His glance shifted uncomfortably to my gray bag. + +"And I want to sell you a pair of spectacles," I said. "I see that you +are nearly blind." + +"Me blind!" + +It would be utterly impossible to describe the expression on his +face. His hand went involuntarily to his eyes, and he glanced quickly, +somewhat fearfully, about. + +"Yes, nearly blind," said I. "I saw it when I first met you. You don't +know it yourself yet, but I can assure you it is a bad case." + +I paused, and shook my head slowly. If I had not been so much in +earnest, I think I should have been tempted to laugh outright. I had +begun my talk with him half jestingly, with the amusing idea of breaking +through his shell, but I now found myself tremendously engrossed, and +desired nothing in the world (at that moment) so much as to make him see +what I saw. I felt as though I held a live human soul in my hand. + +"Say, partner," said the road-worker, "are you sure you aren't--" He +tapped his forehead and began to edge away. + +I did not answer his question at all, but continued, with my eyes fixed +on him: + +"It is a peculiar sort of blindness. Apparently, as you look about, you +see everything there is to see, but as a matter of fact you see nothing +in the world but this road--" + +"It's time that I was seein' it again then," said he, making as if to +turn back to work, but remaining with a disturbed expression on his +countenance. + +"The Spectacles I have to sell," said I, "are powerful magnifiers"--he +glanced again at the gray bag. "When you put them on you will see a +thousand wonderful things besides the road--" + +"Then you ain't road-worker after all!" he said, evidently trying to be +bluff and outright with me. + + +Now your substantial, sober, practical American will stand only about +so much verbal foolery; and there is nothing in the world that makes him +more uncomfortable--yes, downright mad!--than to feel that he is being +played with. I could see that I had nearly reached the limit with him, +and that if I held him now it must be by driving the truth straight +home. So I stepped over toward him and said very earnestly: + +"My friend, don't think I am merely joking you. I was never more in +earnest in all my life. When I told you I was a road-worker I meant it, +but I had in mind the mending of other kinds of roads than this." + +I laid my hand on his arm, and explained to him as directly and simply +as English words could do it, how, when he had spoken of oil for his +roads, I thought of another sort of oil for another sort of roads, and +when he spoke of curves in his roads I was thinking of curves in the +roads I dealt with, and I explained to him what my roads were. I have +never seen a man more intensely interested: he neither moved nor took +his eyes from my face. + +"And when I spoke of selling you a pair of spectacles," said I, "it was +only a way of telling you how much I wanted to make you see my kinds of +roads as well as your own." + +I paused, wondering if, after all, he could be made to see. I know now +how the surgeon must feel at the crucial moment of his accomplished +operation. Will the patient live or die? + +The road-worker drew a long breath as he came out from under the +anesthetic. + +"I guess, partner," said he, "you're trying to put a stone or two in my +ruts!" + +I had him! + +"Exactly," I exclaimed eagerly. + +We both paused. He was the first to speak--with some embarrassment: + +"Say, you're just like a preacher I used to know when I was a kid. He +was always sayin' things that meant something else and when you found +out what he was drivin' at you always felt kind of queer in your +insides." + +I laughed. + +"It's a mighty good sign," I said, "when a man begins to feel queer in +the insides. It shows that something is happening to him." + +With that we walked back to the road, feeling very close and +friendly--and shovelling again, not saying much. After quite a +time, when we had nearly cleaned up the landslide, I heard the husky +road-worker chuckling to himself; finally, straightening up, he said: + +"Say, there's more things in a road than ever I dreamt of." + +"I see," said I, "that the new spectacles are a good fit." + +The road-worker laughed long and loud. + +"You're a good one, all right," he said. "I see what YOU mean. I catch +your point." + +"And now that you've got them on," said I, "and they are serving you +so well, I'm not going to sell them to you at all. I'm going to present +them to you--for I haven't seen anybody in a long time that I've enjoyed +meeting more than I have you." + +We nurse a fiction that people love to cover up their feelings; but I +have learned that if the feeling is real and deep they love far better +to find a way to uncover it. + +"Same here," said the road-worker simply, but with a world of genuine +feeling in his voice. + +Well, when it came time to stop work the road-worker insisted that I get +in and go home with him. + +"I want you to see my wife and kids," said he. + +The upshot of it was that I not only remained for supper--and a good +supper it was--but I spent the night in his little home, close at the +side of the road near the foot of a fine hill. And from time to time all +night long, it seemed to me, I could hear the rush of cars going by in +the smooth road outside, and sometimes their lights flashed in at my +window, and sometimes I heard them sound their brassy horns. + +I wish I could tell more of what I saw there, of the garden back of the +house, and of all the road-worker and his wife told me of their simple +history--but, the road calls! + +When I set forth early this morning the road-worker followed me out +to the smooth macadam (his wife standing in the doorway with her hands +rolled in her apron) and said to me, a bit shyly: + +"I'll be more sort o'--sort o' interested in roads since I've seen you." + +"I'll be along again some of these days," said I, laughing, "and I'll +stop in and show you my new stock of spectacles. Maybe I can sell you +another pair!" + +"Maybe you kin," and he smiled a broad, understanding smile. + +Nothing brings men together like having a joke in common. + +So I walked off down the road--in the best of spirits--ready for the +events of another day. + +It will surely be a great adventure, one of these days, to come this way +again--and to visit the Stanleys, and the Vedders, and the Minister, and +drop in and sell another pair of specs to the Road-worker. It seems to +me I have a wonderfully rosy future ahead of me! + + +P. S.--I have not yet found out who painted the curious signs; but I am +not as uneasy about it as I was. I have seen two more of them already +this morning--and find they exert quite a psychological influence. + + + +CHAPTER VI. AN EXPERIMENT IN HUMAN NATURE + +In the early morning after I left the husky road-mender (wearing his new +spectacles), I remained steadfastly on the Great Road or near it. It was +a prime spring day, just a little hazy, as though promising rain, but +soft and warm. + +"They will be working in the garden at home," I thought, "and there will +be worlds of rhubarb and asparagus." Then I remembered how the morning +sunshine would look on the little vine-clad back porch (reaching halfway +up the weathered door) of my own house among the hills. + +It was the first time since my pilgrimage began that I had thought with +any emotion of my farm--or of Harriet. + +And then the road claimed me again, and I began to look out for some +further explanation of the curious sign, the single word "Rest," which +had interested me so keenly on the preceding day. It may seem absurd to +some who read these lines--some practical people!--but I cannot convey +the pleasure I had in the very elusiveness and mystery of the sign, +nor how I wished I might at the next turn come upon the poet himself. I +decided that no one but a poet could have contented himself with a lyric +in one word, unless it might have been a humourist, to whom sometimes a +single small word is more blessed than all the verbal riches of Webster +himself. For it is nothing short of genius that uses one word when +twenty will say the same thing! + +Or, would he, after all, turn out to be only a more than ordinarily +alluring advertiser? I confess my heart went into my throat that +morning, when I first saw the sign, lest it read: + +[ RESTaurant 2 miles east ] + +nor should I have been surprised if it had. + +I caught a vicarious glimpse of the sign-man to-day, through the eyes +of a young farmer. Yes, he s'posed he'd seen him, he said; wore a slouch +hat, couldn't tell whether he was young or old. Drove into the bushes +(just down there beyond the brook) and, standin' on the seat of his +buggy, nailed something to a tree. A day or two later--the dull wonder +of mankind!--the young farmer, passing that way to town, had seen the +odd sign "Rest" on the tree: he s'posed the fellow put it there. + +"What does it mean?" + +"Well, naow, I hadn't thought," said the young farmer. + +"Did the fellow by any chance have long hair?" + +"Well, naow, I didn't notice," said he. + +"Are you sure he wore a slouch hat?" + +"Ye-es--or it may a-been straw," replied the observant young farmer. + + +So I tramped that morning; and as I tramped I let my mind go out warmly +to the people living all about on the farms or in the hills. It is +pleasant at times to feel life, as it were, in general terms: no +specific Mr. Smith or concrete Mr. Jones, but just human life. I love to +think of people all around going out busily in the morning to their work +and returning at night, weary, to rest. I like to think of them growing +up, growing old, loving, achieving, sinning, failing--in short, living. + +In such a live-minded mood as this it often happens that the most +ordinary things appear charged with new significance. I suppose I had +seen a thousand rural-mail boxes along country roads before that day, +but I had seen them as the young farmer saw the sign-man. They were mere +inert objects of iron and wood. + +But as I tramped, thinking of the people in the hills, I came quite +unexpectedly upon a sandy by-road that came out through a thicket +of scrub oaks and hazel-brush, like some shy countryman, to join +the turn-pike. As I stood looking into it--for it seemed peculiarly +inviting--I saw at the entrance a familiar group of rural-mail boxes. +And I saw them not as dead things, but for the moment--the illusion was +over-powering--they were living, eager hands outstretched to the +passing throng I could feel, hear, see the farmers up there in the +hills reaching out to me, to all the world, for a thousand inexpressible +things, for more life, more companionship, more comforts, more money. + +It occurred to me at that moment, whimsically and yet somehow seriously, +that I might respond to the appeal of the shy country road and the +outstretched hands. At first I did not think of anything I could +do--save to go up and eat dinner with one of the hill farmers, which +might not be an unmixed blessing!--and then it came to me. + +"I will write a letter!" + +Straightway and with the liveliest amusement I began to formulate in my +mind what I should say: + +Dear Friend: You do not know me. I am a passerby in the road. My name is +David Grayson. You do not know me, and it may seem odd to you to receive +a letter from an entire stranger. But I am something of a farmer myself, +and as I went by I could not help thinking of you and your family and +your farm. The fact is, I should like to look you up, and talk with you +about many things. I myself cultivate a number of curious fields, and +raise many kinds of crops-- + +At this interesting point my inspiration suddenly collapsed, for I had +a vision, at once amusing and disconcerting, of my hill farmer (and his +practical wife!) receiving such a letter (along with the country paper, +a circular advertising a cure for catarrh, and the most recent catalogue +of the largest mail-order house in creation). I could see them standing +there in their doorway, the man with his coat off, doubtfully scratching +his head as he read my letter, the woman wiping her hands on her apron +and looking over his shoulder, and a youngster squeezing between the two +and demanding, "What is it, Paw?" + +I found myself wondering how they would receive such an unusual letter, +what they would take it to mean. And in spite of all I could do, I +could imagine no expression on their faces save one of incredulity and +suspicion. I could fairly see the shrewd worldly wise look come into the +farmer's face; I could hear him say: + +"Ha, guess he thinks we ain't cut our eye-teeth!" And he would instantly +begin speculating as to whether this was a new scheme for selling +him second-rate nursery stock, or the smooth introduction of another +sewing-machine agent. + +Strange world, strange world! Sometimes it seems to me that the hardest +thing of all to believe in is simple friendship. Is it not a comment +upon our civilization that it is so often easier to believe that a +man is a friend-for-profit, or even a cheat, than that he is frankly a +well-wisher of his neighbours? + + +These reflections put such a damper upon my enthusiasm that I was on the +point of taking again to the road, when it came to me powerfully: Why +not try the experiment? Why not? + +"Friendship," I said aloud, "is the greatest thing in the world. There +is no door it will not unlock, no problem it will not solve. It is, +after all, the only real thing in this world." + +The sound of my own voice brought me suddenly to myself, and I found +that I was standing there in the middle of the public road, one clenched +fist absurdly raised in air, delivering an oration to a congregation of +rural-mail boxes! + +And yet, in spite of the humorous aspects of the idea, it still appeared +to me that such an experiment would not only fit in with the true object +of my journeying, but that it might be full of amusing and interesting +adventures. Straightway I got my notebook out of my bag and, sitting +down near the roadside, wrote my letter. I wrote it as though my life +depended upon it, with the intent of making some one household there in +the hills feel at least a little wave of warmth and sympathy from the +great world that was passing in the road below. I tried to prove the +validity of a kindly thought with no selling device attached to it; I +tried to make it such a word of frank companionship as I myself, working +in my own fields, would like to receive. + +Among the letter-boxes in the group was one that stood a little detached +and behind the others, as though shrinking from such prosperous company. +It was made of unpainted wood, with leather hinges, and looked shabby +in comparison with the jaunty red, green, and gray paint of some of the +other boxes (with their cocky little metallic flags upraised). It bore +the good American name of Clark--T. N. Clark--and it seemed to me that I +could tell something of the Clarks by the box at the crossing. + +"I think they need a friendly word," I said to myself. + +So I wrote the name T. N. Clark on my envelope and put the letter in his +box. + +It was with a sense of joyous adventure that I now turned aside into the +sandy road and climbed the hill. My mind busied itself with thinking how +I should carry out my experiment, how I should approach these Clarks, +and how and what they were. A thousand ways I pictured to myself the +receipt of the letter: it would at least be something new for them, +something just a little disturbing, and I was curious to see whether +it might open the rift of wonder wide enough to let me slip into their +lives. + +I have often wondered why it is that men should be so fearful of new +ventures in social relationships, when I have found them so fertile, +so enjoyable. Most of us fear (actually fear) people who differ from +ourselves, either up or down the scale. Your Edison pries fearlessly +into the intimate secrets of matter; your Marconi employs the mysterious +properties of the "jellied ether," but let a man seek to experiment with +the laws of that singular electricity which connects you and me (though +you be a millionaire and I a ditch-digger), and we think him a wild +visionary, an academic person. I think sometimes that the science of +humanity to-day is in about the state of darkness that the natural +sciences were when Linneus and Cuvier and Lamarck began groping for the +great laws of natural unity. Most of the human race is still groaning +under the belief that each of us is a special and unrelated creation, +just as men for ages saw no relationships between the fowls of the air, +the beasts of the field, and the fish of the sea. But, thank God, we +are beginning to learn that unity is as much a law of life as selfish +struggle, and love a more vital force than avarice or lust of power or +place. A Wandering Carpenter knew it, and taught it, twenty centuries +ago. + +"The next house beyond the ridge," said the toothless old woman, +pointing with a long finger, "is the Clarks'. You can't miss it," and I +thought she looked at me oddly. + +I had been walking briskly for some three miles, and it was with keen +expectation that I now mounted the ridge and saw the farm for which I +was looking, lying there in the valley before me. It was altogether a +wild and beautiful bit of country--stunted cedars on the knolls of the +rolling hills, a brook trailing its way among alders and willows down a +long valley, and shaggy old fields smiling in the sun. As I came nearer +I could see that the only disharmony in the valley was the work (or +idleness) of men. A broken mowing-machine stood in the field where +it had been left the summer before, rusty and forlorn, and dead weeds +marked the edges of a field wherein the spring ploughing was now only +half done. The whole farmstead, indeed, looked tired. As for the house +and barn, they had reached that final stage of decay in which the +best thing that could be said of them was that they were picturesque. +Everything was as different from the farm of the energetic and joyous +Stanleys, whose work I had shared only a few days before, as anything +that could be imagined. + +Now, my usual way of getting into step with people is simplicity itself. +I take off my coat and go to work with them and the first thing I +know we have become first-rate friends. One doesn't dream of the +possibilities of companionship in labour until he has tried it. + +But how shall one get into step with a man who is not stepping? + +On the porch of the farmhouse, there in the mid-afternoon, a man sat +idly; and children were at play in the yard. I went in at the gate, not +knowing in the least what I should say or do, but determined to get hold +of the problem somewhere. As I approached the step, I swung my bag from +my shoulder. + +"Don't want to buy nothin'," said the man. + +"Well," said I, "that is fortunate, for I have nothing to sell. But +you've got something I want." + +He looked at me dully. + +"What's that?" + +"A drink of water." + +Scarcely moving his head, he called to a shy older girl who had just +appeared in the doorway. + +"Mandy, bring a dipper of water." + +As I stood there the children gathered curiously around me, and the man +continued to sit in his chair, saying absolutely nothing, a picture of +dull discouragement. + +"How they need something to stir them up," I thought. + +When I had emptied the dipper, I sat down on the top step of the porch, +and, without saying a word to the man, placed my bag beside me and began +to open it. The shy girl paused, dipper in hand, the children stood +on tiptoe, and even the man showed signs of curiosity. With studied +deliberation I took out two books I had with me and put them on the +porch; then I proceeded to rummage for a long time in the bottom of the +bag as though I could not find what I wanted. Every eye was glued upon +me, and I even heard the step of Mrs. Clark as she came to the but I did +not look up or speak. Finally I pulled out my tin whistle and, leaning +back against the porch column, placed it to my lips, and began playing +in Tom Madison's best style (eyes half closed, one toe tapping to +the music, head nodding, fingers lifted high from the stops), I began +playing "Money Musk," and "Old Dan Tucker." Oh, I put vim into it, I can +tell you! And bad as my playing was, I had from the start an absorption +of attention from my audience that Paderewski himself might have envied. +I wound up with a lively trill in the high notes and took my whistle +from my lips with a hearty laugh, for the whole thing had been downright +good fun, the playing itself, the make-believe which went with it, the +surprise and interest in the children's faces, the slow-breaking smile +of the little girl with the dipper. + +"I'll warrant you, madam," I said to the woman who now stood frankly +in the doorway with her hands wrapped in her apron, "you haven't heard +those tunes since you were a girl and danced to 'em." + +"You're right," she responded heartily. + +"I'll give you another jolly one," I said, and, replacing my whistle, I +began with even greater zest to play "Yankee Doodle." + +When I had gone through it half a dozen times with such added variations +and trills as I could command, and had two of the children hopping about +in the yard, and the forlorn man tapping his toe to the tune, and a +smile on the face of the forlorn woman, I wound up with a rush and +then, as if I could hold myself in no longer (and I couldn't either!), I +suddenly burst out: + + Yankee doodle dandy! + Yankee doodle dandy! + Mind the music and the step, + And with the girls be handy. + +It may seem surprising, but I think I can understand why it was--when I +looked up at the woman in the doorway there were tears in her eyes! + +"Do you know 'John Brown's Body'?" eagerly inquired the little girl +with the dipper, and then, as if she had done something quite bold and +improper, she blushed and edged toward the doorway. + +"How does it go?" I asked, and one of the bold lads in the yard +instantly puckered his lips to show me, and immediately they were all +trying it. + +"Here goes," said I, and for the next few minutes, and in my very best +style, I hung Jeff Davis on the sour apple-tree, and I sent the soul +of John Brown marching onward with an altogether unnecessary number of +hallelujahs. + +I think sometimes that people--whole families of 'em--literally +perish for want of a good, hearty, whole-souled, mouth-opening, +throat-stretching, side-aching laugh. They begin to think themselves the +abused of creation, they begin to advise with their livers and to hate +their neighbours, and the whole world becomes a miserable dark blue +place quite unfit for human habitation. Well, all this is often only the +result of a neglect to exercise properly those muscles of the body (and +of the soul) which have to do with honest laughter. + +I've never supposed I was an especially amusing person, but before I got +through with it I had the Clark family well loosened up with laughter, +although I wasn't quite sure some of the time whether Mrs. Clark +was laughing or crying. I had them all laughing and talking, asking +questions and answering them as though I were an old and valued +neighbour. + +Isn't it odd how unconvinced we often are by the crises in the lives of +other people? They seem to us trivial or unimportant; but the fact is, +the crises in the life of a boy, for example, or of a poor man, are +as commanding as the crises in the life of the greatest statesman or +millionaire, for they involve equally the whole personality, the entire +prospects. + +The Clark family, I soon learned, had lost its pig. A trivial matter, +you say? I wonder if anything is ever trivial. A year of poor crops, +sickness, low prices, discouragement and, at the end of it, on top of it +all, the cherished pig had died! + +From all accounts (and the man on the porch quite lost his apathy in +telling me about it) it must have been a pig of remarkable virtues +and attainments, a paragon of pigs--in whom had been bound up the many +possibilities of new shoes for the children, a hat for the lady, a new +pair of overalls for the gentleman, and I know not what other kindred +luxuries. I do not think, indeed, I ever had the portrait of a pig +drawn for me with quite such ardent enthusiasm of detail, and the more +questions I asked the more eager the story, until finally it became +necessary for me to go to the barn, the cattle-pen, the pig-pen and +the chicken-house, that I might visualize more clearly the scene of the +tragedy. The whole family trooped after us like a classic chorus, but +Mr. Clark himself kept the centre of the stage. + +How plainly I could read upon the face of the land the story of this +hill farmer and his meagre existence--his ill-directed effort to wring +a poor living for his family from these upland fields, his poverty, and, +above all, his evident lack of knowledge of his own calling. Added to +these things, and perhaps the most depressing of all his difficulties, +was the utter loneliness of the task, the feeling that it mattered +little to any one whether the Clark family worked or not, or indeed +whether they lived or died. A perfectly good American family was here +being wasted, with the precious land they lived on, because no one had +taken the trouble to make them feel that they were a part of this Great +American Job. + + +As we went back to the house, a freckled-nosed neighbour's boy came in +at the gate. + +"A letter for you, Mr. Clark," said he. "I brought it up with our mail." + +"A letter!" exclaimed Mrs. Clark. + +"A letter!" echoed at least three of the children in unison. + +"Probably a dun from Brewster," said Mr. Clark discouragingly. + +I felt a curious sensation about the heart, and an eagerness of interest +I have rarely experienced. I had no idea what a mere letter--a mere +unopened unread letter--would mean to a family like this. + +"It has no stamp on it!" exclaimed the older girl. + +Mrs. Clark turned it over wonderingly in her hands. Mr. Clark hastily +put on a pair of steel-bowed spectacles. + +"Let me see it," he said, and when he also had inspected it minutely he +solemnly tore open the envelope and drew forth my letter. + +'I assure you I never awaited the reading of any writing of mine with +such breathless interest. How would they take it? Would they catch the +meaning that I meant to convey? And would they suspect me of having +written it? + +Mr. Clark sat on the porch and read the letter slowly through to the +end, turned the sheet over and examined it carefully, and then began +reading it again to himself, Mrs. Clark leaning over his shoulder. + +"What does it mean?" asked Mr. Clark. + +"It's too good to be true," said Mrs. Clark with a sigh. + +I don't know how long the discussion might have continued--probably for +days or weeks--had not the older girl, now flushed of face and rather +pretty, looked at me and said breathlessly (she was as sharp as a +briar): + +"You wrote it." + +I stood the battery of all their eyes for a moment, smiling and rather +excited. + +"Yes," I said earnestly, "I wrote it, and I mean every word of it." + +I had anticipated some shock of suspicion and inquiry, but to my +surprise it was accepted as simply as a neighbourly good morning. I +suppose the mystery of it was eclipsed by my astonishing presence there +upon the scene with my tin whistle. + +At any rate, it was a changed, eager, interested family which now +occupied the porch of that dilapidated farmhouse. And immediately we +fell into a lively discussion of crops and farming, and indeed the whole +farm question, in which I found both the man and his wife singularly +acute--sharpened upon the stone of hard experience. + +Indeed, I found right here, as I have many times found among our +American farmers, an intelligence (a literacy growing out of what I +believe to be improper education) which was better able to discuss the +problems of rural life than to grapple with and solve them. A dull, +illiterate Polish farmer, I have found, will sometimes succeed much +better at the job of life than his American neighbour. + +Talk with almost any man for half an hour, and you will find that his +conversation, like an old-fashioned song, has a regularly recurrent +chorus. I soon discovered Mr. Clark's chorus. + +"Now, if only I had a little cash," he sang, or, "If I had a few +dollars, I could do so and so." + +Why, he was as helplessly, dependent upon money as any soft-handed +millionairess. He considered himself poor and helpless because he lacked +dollars, whereas people are really poor and helpless only when they lack +courage and faith. + +We were so much absorbed in our talk that I was greatly surprised to +hear Mrs. Clark's voice at the doorway. + +"Won't you come in to supper?" + +After we had eaten, there was a great demand for more of my tin whistle +(oh, I know how Caruso must feel!), and I played over every blessed tune +I knew, and some I didn't, four or five times, and after that we +told stories and cracked jokes in a way that must have been utterly +astonishing in that household. After the children had been, yes, driven +to bed, Mr. Clark seemed about to drop back into his lamentations over +his condition (which I have no doubt had come to give him a sort of +pleasure), but I turned to Mrs. Clark, whom I had come to respect very +highly, and began to talk about the little garden she had started, which +was about the most enterprising thing about the place. + +"Isn't it one of the finest things in this world," said I, "to go out +into a good garden in the summer days and bring in loaded baskets filled +with beets and cabbages and potatoes, just for the gathering?" + +I knew from the expression on Mrs. Clark's face that I had touched a +sounding note. + +"Opening the green corn a little at the top to see if it is ready and +then stripping it off and tearing away the moist white husks--" + +"And picking tomatoes?" said Mrs. Clark. "And knuckling the watermelons +to see if they are ripe? Oh, I tell you there are thousands of people in +this country who'd like to be able to pick their dinner in the garden!" + +"It's fine!" said Mrs. Clark with amused enthusiasm, "but I like best +to hear the hens cackling in the barnyard in the morning after they've +laid, and to go and bring in the eggs." + +"Just like a daily present!" I said. + +"Ye-es," responded the soundly practical Mrs. Clark, thinking, no doubt, +that there were other aspects of the garden and chicken problem. + +"I'll tell you another thing I like about a farmer's life," said I, +"that's the smell in the house in the summer when there are preserves, +or sweet pickles, or jam, or whatever it is, simmering on the stove. No +matter where you are, up in the garret or down cellar, it's cinnamon, +and allspice, and cloves, and every sort of sugary odour. Now, that gets +me where I live!" + +"It IS good!" said Mrs. Clark with a laugh that could certainly be +called nothing if not girlish. + + +All this time I had been keeping one eye on Mr. Clark. It was amusing +to see him struggling against a cheerful view of life. He now broke into +the conversation. + +"Well, but--" he began. + +Instantly I headed him off. + +"And think," said I, "of living a life in which you are beholden to +no man. It's a free life, the farmer's life. No one can discharge you +because you are sick, or tired, or old, or because you are a Democrat or +a Baptist!" + +"Well, but--" + +"And think of having to pay no rent, nor of having to live upstairs in a +tenement!" + +"Well, but--" + +"Or getting run over by a street-car, or having the children play in the +gutters." + +"I never did like to think of what my children would do if we went to +town," said Mrs. Clark. + +"I guess not!" I exclaimed. + +The fact is, most people don't think half enough of themselves and of +their jobs; but before we went to bed that night I had the forlorn T. N. +Clark talking about the virtues of his farm in quite a surprising way. + +I even saw him eying me two or three times with a shrewd look in his +eyes (your American is an irrepressible trader) as though I might +possibly be some would-be purchaser in disguise. + +(I shall write some time a dissertation on the advantages, of wearing +shabby clothing.) + +The farm really had many good points. One of them was a shaggy old +orchard of good and thriving but utterly neglected apple-trees. + +"Man alive," I said, when we went out to see it in the morning, "you've +got a gold mine here!" And I told him how in our neighbourhood we were +renovating the old orchards, pruning them back, spraying, and bringing +them into bearing again. + +He had never, since he owned the place, had a salable crop of fruit. +When we came in to breakfast I quite stirred the practical Mrs. Clark +with my enthusiasm, and she promised at once to send for a bulletin on +apple-tree renovation, published by the state experiment station. I am +sure I was no more earnest in my advice than the conditions warranted. + +After breakfast we went into the field, and I suggested that instead of +ploughing any more land--for the season was already late--we get out all +the accumulations of rotted manure from around the barn and strew it on +the land already ploughed and harrow it in. + +"A good job on a little piece of land," I said, "is far more profitable +than a poor job on a big piece of land." + +Without more ado we got his old team hitched up and began loading, and +hauling out the manure, and spent all day long at it. Indeed, such was +the height of enthusiasm which T. N. Clark now reached (for his was a +temperament that must either soar in the clouds or grovel in the mire), +that he did not wish to stop when Mrs. Clark called us in to supper. In +that one day his crop of corn, in perspective, overflowed his crib, he +could not find boxes and barrels for his apples, his shed would not hold +all his tobacco, and his barn was already being enlarged to accommodate +a couple more cows! He was also keeping bees and growing ginseng. + +But it was fine, that evening, to see Mrs. Clark's face, the renewed +hope and courage in it. I thought as I looked at her (for she was the +strong and steady one in that house): + +"If you can keep the enthusiasm up, if you can make that husband of +yours grow corn, and cows, and apples as you raise chickens and make +garden, there is victory yet in this valley." + +That night it rained, but in spite of the moist earth we spent almost +all of the following day hard at work in the field, and all the time +talking over ways and means for the future, but the next morning, early, +I swung my bag on my back and left them. + +I shall not attempt to describe the friendliness of our parting. Mrs. +Clark followed me wistfully to the gate. + +"I can't tell you--" she began, with the tears starting in her eyes. + +"Then don't try--" said I, smiling. + +And so I swung off down the country road, without looking back. + + + +CHAPTER VII. THE UNDISCOVERED COUNTRY + +In some strange deep way there is no experience of my whole pilgrimage +that I look back upon with so much wistful affection as I do upon the +events of the day--the day and the wonderful night--which followed my +long visit with the forlorn Clark family upon their hill farm. At first +I hesitated about including an account of it here because it contains so +little of what may be called thrilling or amusing incident. + +"They want only the lively stories of my adventures," I said to myself, +and I was at the point of pushing my notes to the edge of the table +where (had I let go) they would have fallen into the convenient oblivion +of the waste-basket. But something held me back. + +"No," said I, "I'll tell it; if it means so much to me, it may mean +something to the friends who are following these lines." + +For, after all, it is not what goes on outside of a man, the clash and +clatter of superficial events, that arouses our deepest interest, but +what goes on inside. Consider then that in this narrative I shall open +a little door in my heart and let you look in, if you care to, upon the +experiences of a day and a night in which I was supremely happy. + +If you had chanced to be passing, that crisp spring morning, you would +have seen a traveller on foot with a gray bag on his shoulder, swinging +along the country road; and you might have been astonished to see him +lift his hat at you and wish you a good morning. You might have turned +to look back at him, as you passed, and found him turning also to look +back at you--and wishing he might know you. But you would not have known +what he was chanting under his breath as he tramped (how little we know +of a man by the shabby coat he wears), nor how keenly he was enjoying +the light airs and the warm sunshine of that fine spring morning. + +After leaving the hill farm he had walked five miles up the valley, +had crossed the ridge at a place called the Little Notch, where all the +world lay stretched before him like the open palm of his hand, and had +come thus to the boundaries of the Undiscovered Country. He had been for +days troubled with the deep problems of other people, and it seemed to +him this morning as though a great stone had been rolled from the door +of his heart, and that he was entering upon a new world--a wonderful, +high, free world. And, as he tramped, certain lines of a stanza long ago +caught up in his memory from some forgotten page came up to his lips, +and these were the words (you did not know as you passed) that he was +chanting under his breath as he tramped, for they seem charged with the +spirit of the hour: + +I've bartered my sheets for a starlit bed; I've traded my meat for a +crust of bread; I've changed my book for a sapling cane, And I'm off to +the end of the world again. + +In the Undiscovered Country that morning it was wonderful how fresh +the spring woods were, and how the birds sang in the trees, and how the +brook sparkled and murmured at the roadside. The recent rain had washed +the atmosphere until it was as clear and sparkling and heady as new +wine, and the footing was firm and hard. As one tramped he could +scarcely keep from singing or shouting aloud for the very joy of the +day. + +"I think," I said to myself, "I've never been in a better country," and +it did not seem to me I cared to know where the gray road ran, nor how +far away the blue hills were. + +"It is wonderful enough anywhere here," I said. + +And presently I turned from the road and climbed a gently sloping +hillside among oak and chestnut trees. The earth was well carpeted +for my feet, and here and there upon the hillside, where the sun came +through the green roof of foliage, were warm splashes Of yellow light, +and here and there, on shadier slopes, the new ferns were spread upon +the earth like some lacy coverlet. I finally sat down at the foot of +a tree where through a rift in the foliage in the valley below I could +catch a glimpse in the distance of the meadows and the misty blue hills. +I was glad to rest, just rest, for the two previous days of hard labour, +the labour and the tramping, had wearied me, and I sat for a long time +quietly looking about me, scarcely thinking at all, but seeing, hearing, +smelling--feeling the spring morning, and the woods and the hills, and +the patch of sky I could see. + +For a long, long time I sat thus, but finally my mind began to flow +again, and I thought how fine it would be if I had some good friend +there with me to enjoy the perfect surroundings--some friend who would +understand. And I thought of the Vedders with whom I had so recently +spent a wonderful day; and I wished that they might be with me; there +were so many things to be said--to be left unsaid. Upon this it occurred +to me, suddenly, whimsically, and I exclaimed aloud: + +"Why, I'll just call them up." + +Half turning to the trunk of the tree where I sat, I placed one hand to +my ear and the other to my lips and said: + +"Hello, Central, give me Mr. Vedder." + +I waited a moment, smiling a little at my own absurdity and yet quite +captivated by the enterprise. + +"Is this Mr. Vedder? Oh, Mrs. Vedder! Well, this is David Grayson.".... + +"Yes, the very same. A bad penny, a rolling stone.".... + +"Yes. I want you both to come here as quickly as you can. I have the +most important news for you. The mountain laurels are blooming, and +the wild strawberries are setting their fruit. Yes, yes, and in the +fields--all around here, to-day there are wonderful white patches of +daisies, and from where I sit I can see an old meadow as yellow as gold +with buttercups. And the bobolinks are hovering over the low spots. Oh, +but it is fine here--and we are not together!".... + +"No; I cannot give exact directions. But take the Long Road and turn at +the turning by the tulip-tree, and you will find me at home. Come right +in without knocking." + + +I hung up the receiver. For a single instant it had seemed almost true, +and indeed I believe--I wonder-- + +Some day, I thought, just a bit sadly, for I shall probably not be here +then--some day, we shall be able to call our friends through space and +time. Some day we shall discover that marvellously simple coherer by +which we may better utilize the mysterious ether of love. + +For a time I was sad with thoughts of the unaccomplished future, and +then I reflected that if I could not call up the Vedders so informally +I could at least write down a few paragraphs which would give them some +faint impression of that time and place. But I had no sooner taken +out my note-book and put down a sentence or two than I stuck fast. How +foolish and feeble written words are anyway! With what glib facility +they describe, but how inadequately they convey. A thousand times I have +thought to myself, "If only I could WRITE!" + +Not being able to write I turned, as I have so often turned before, to +some good old book, trusting that I might find in the writing of another +man what I lacked in my own. I took out my battered copy of Montaigne +and, opening it at random, as I love to do, came, as luck would have it, +upon a chapter devoted to coaches, in which there is much curious (and +worthless) information, darkened with Latin quotations. This reading had +an unexpected effect upon me. + +I could not seem to keep my mind down upon the printed page; it kept +bounding away at the sight of the distant hills, at the sound of a +woodpecker on a dead stub which stood near me, and at the thousand and +one faint rustlings, creepings, murmurings, tappings, which animate +the mystery of the forest. How dull indeed appeared the printed page +in comparison with the book of life, how shut-in its atmosphere, how +tinkling and distant the sound of its voices. Suddenly I shut my book +with a snap. + +"Musty coaches and Latin quotations!" I exclaimed. "Montaigne's no +writer for the open air. He belongs at a study fire on a quiet evening!" + +I had anticipated, when I started out, many a pleasant hour by the +roadside or in the woods with my books, but this was almost the first +opportunity I had found for reading (as it was almost the last), so full +was the present world of stirring events. As for poor old Montaigne, I +have been out of harmony with him ever since, nor have I wanted him in +the intimate case at my elbow. + +After a long time in the forest, and the sun having reached the high +heavens, I gathered up my pack and set forth again along the slope of +the hills--not hurrying, just drifting and enjoying every sight and +sound. And thus walking I came in sight, through the trees, of a +glistening pool of water and made my way straight toward it. + + +A more charming spot I have rarely seen. In some former time an old +mill had stood at the foot of the little valley, and a ruinous stone +dam still held the water in a deep, quiet pond between two round hills. +Above it a brook ran down through the woods, and below, with a pleasant +musical sound, the water dripped over the mossy stone lips of the dam +and fell into the rocky pool below. Nature had long ago healed the +wounds of men; she had half-covered the ruined mill with verdure, had +softened the stone walls of the dam with mosses and lichens, and had +crept down the steep hillside and was now leaning so far out over the +pool that she could see her reflection in the quiet water. + +Near the upper end of the pond I found a clear white sand-bank, where +no doubt a thousand fishermen had stood, half hidden by the willows, to +cast for trout in the pool below. I intended merely to drink and moisten +my face, but as I knelt by the pool and saw my reflection in the clear +water wanted something more than that! In a moment I had thrown aside my +bag and clothes and found myself wading naked into the water. + +It was cold! I stood a moment there in the sunny air, the great world +open around me, shuddering, for I dreaded the plunge--and then with a +run, a shout and a splash I took the deep water. Oh, but it was fine! +With long, deep strokes I carried myself fairly to the middle of the +pond. The first chill was succeeded by a tingling glow, and I can convey +no idea whatever of the glorious sense of exhilaration I had. I swam +with the broad front stroke, I swam on my side, head half submerged, +with a deep under stroke, and I rolled over on my back and swam with the +water lapping my chin. Thus I came to the end of the pool near the old +dam, touched my feet on the bottom, gave a primeval whoop, and dove back +into the water again. I have rarely experienced keener physical joy. +After swimming thus boisterously for a time, I quieted down to long, +leisurely strokes, conscious of the water playing across my shoulders +and singing at my ears, and finally, reaching the centre of the pond, I +turned over on my back and, paddling lazily, watched the slow procession +of light clouds across the sunlit openings of the trees above me. Away +up in the sky I could see a hawk slowly swimming about (in his element +as I was in mine), and nearer at hand, indeed fairly in the thicket +about the pond, I could hear a wood-thrush singing. + +And so, shaking the water out of my hair and swimming with long and +leisurely strokes, I returned to the sand-bank, and there, standing in a +spot of warm sunshine, I dried myself with the towel from my bag. And I +said to myself: + +"Surely it is good to be alive at a time like this!" + +Slowly I drew on my clothes, idling there in the sand, and afterward I +found an inviting spot in an old meadow where I threw myself down on the +grass under an apple-tree and looked up into the shadowy places in the +foliage above me. I felt a delicious sense of physical well-being, and I +was pleasantly tired. + +So I lay there--and the next thing I knew, I turned over, feeling cold +and stiff, and opened my eyes upon the dusky shadows of late evening. I +had been sleeping for hours! + + +The next few minutes (or was it an hour or eternity?), I recall as +containing some of the most exciting and, when all is said, amusing +incidents in my whole life. And I got quite a new glimpse of that +sometimes bumptious person known as David Grayson. + +The first sensation I had was one of complete panic. What was I to do? +Where was I to go? + +Hastily seizing my bag--and before I was half awake--I started rapidly +across the meadow, in my excitement tripping and falling several times +in the first hundred yards. In daylight I have no doubt that I should +easily have seen a gateway or at least an opening from the old meadow, +but in the fast-gathering darkness it seemed to me that the open field +was surrounded on every side by impenetrable forests. Absurd as it +may seem, for no one knows what his mind will do at such a moment, +I recalled vividly a passage from Stanley's story of his search for +Livingstone, in which he relates how he escaped from a difficult place +in the jungle by KEEPING STRAIGHT AHEAD. + +I print these words in capitals because they seemed written that night +upon the sky. KEEPING STRAIGHT AHEAD, I entered the forest on one side +of the meadow (with quite a heroic sense of adventure), but scraped my +shin on a fallen log and ran into a tree with bark on it that felt like +a gigantic currycomb--and stopped! + +Up to this point I think I was still partly asleep. Now, however, I +waked up. + +"All you need," said I to myself in my most matter-of-fact tone, "is a +little cool sense. Be quiet now and reason it out." + +So I stood there for some moments reasoning it out, with the result that +I turned back and found the meadow again. + +"What a fool I've been!" I said. "Isn't it perfectly plain that I should +have gone down to the pond, crossed over the inlet, and reached the road +by the way I came?" + +Having thus settled my problem, and congratulating myself on my +perspicacity, I started straight for the mill-pond, but to my utter +amazement, in the few short hours while I had been asleep, that entire +body of water had evaporated, the dam had disappeared, and the stream +had dried up. I must certainly present the facts in this remarkable case +to some learned society. + +I then decided to return to the old apple-tree where I had slept, which +now seemed quite like home, but, strange to relate, the apple-tree had +also completely vanished from the enchanted meadow. At that I began to +suspect that in coming out of the forest I had somehow got into another +and somewhat similar old field. I have never had a more confused or +eerie sensation; not fear, but a sort of helplessness in which for +an instant I actually began to doubt whether it was I myself, David +Grayson, who stood there in the dark meadow, or whether I was the victim +of a peculiarly bad dream. I suppose many other people have had these +sensations under similar conditions, but they were new to me. + +I turned slowly around and looked for a light; I think I never wanted so +much to see some sign of human habitation as I did at that moment. + +What a coddled world we live in, truly. That being out after dark in a +meadow should so disturb the very centre of our being! In all my life, +indeed, and I suppose the same is true of ninety-nine out of a hundred +of the people in America to-day, I had never before found myself where +nothing stood between nature and me, where I had no place to sleep, no +shelter for the night--nor any prospect of finding one. I was infinitely +less resourceful at that moment than a rabbit, or a partridge, or a gray +squirrel. + + + +Presently I sat down on the ground where I had been standing, with a +vague fear (absurd to look back upon) that it, too, in some manner might +slip away from under me. And as I sat there I began to have familiar +gnawings at the pit of my stomach, and I remembered that, save for +a couple of Mrs. Clark's doughnuts eaten while I was sitting on the +hillside, ages ago, I had had nothing since my early breakfast. + +With this thought of my predicament--and the glimpse I had of myself +"hungry and homeless"--the humour of the whole situation suddenly came +over me, and, beginning with a chuckle, I wound up, as my mind dwelt +upon my recent adventures, with a long, loud, hearty laugh. + +As I laughed--and what a roar it made in that darkness!--I got up on my +feet and looked up at the sky. One bright star shone out over the woods, +and in high heavens I could see dimly the white path of the Milky Way. +And all at once I seemed again to be in command of myself and of the +world. I felt a sudden lift and thrill of the spirits, a warm sense that +this too was part of the great adventure--the Thing Itself. + +"This is the light," I said looking up again at the sky and the single +bright star, "which is set for me to-night. I will make my bed by it." + +I can hope to make no one understand (unless he understands already) +with what joy of adventure I now crept through the meadow toward the +wood. It was an unknown, unexplored world I was in, and I, the fortunate +discoverer, had here to shift for himself, make his home under the +stars! Marquette on the wild shores of the Mississippi, or Stanley in +Africa, had no joy that I did not know at that moment. + +I crept along the meadow and came at last to the wood. Here I chose a +somewhat sheltered spot at the foot of a large tree--and yet a spot not +so obscured that I could not look out over the open spaces of the meadow +and see the sky. Here, groping in the darkness, like some primitive +creature, I raked together a pile of leaves with my fingers, and found +dead twigs and branches of trees; but in that moist forest (where the +rain had fallen only the day before) my efforts to kindle a fire were +unavailing. Upon this, I considered using some pages from my notebook, +but another alternative suggested itself: + +"Why not Montaigne?" + +With that I groped for the familiar volume, and with a curious sensation +of satisfaction I tore out a handful of pages from the back. + +"Better Montaigne than Grayson," I said, with a chuckle. It was amazing +how Montaigne sparkled and crackled when he was well lighted. + +"There goes a bundle of quotations from Vergil," I said, "and there's +his observations on the eating of fish. There are more uses than one for +the classics." + +So I ripped out a good part of another chapter, and thus, by coaxing, +got my fire to going. It was not difficult after that to find enough +fuel to make it blaze up warmly. + +I opened my bag and took out the remnants of the luncheon which Mrs. +Clark had given me that morning; and I was surprised and delighted to +find, among the other things, a small bottle of coffee. This suggested +all sorts of pleasing possibilities and, the spirit of invention being +now awakened, I got out my tin cup, split a sapling stick so I could fit +it into the handle, and set the cup, full of coffee, on the coals at the +edge of the fire. It was soon heated, and although I spilled some of it +in getting it off, and although it was well spiced with ashes, I enjoyed +it, with Mrs. Clark's doughnuts and sandwiches (some of which I toasted +with a sapling fork) as thoroughly, I think, as ever I enjoyed any meal. + +How little we know--we who dread life--how much there is in life! + +My activities around the fire had warmed me to the bone, and after I +was well through with my meal I gathered a plentiful supply of wood and +placed it near at hand, I got out my waterproof cape and put it on, and, +finally piling more sticks on the fire, I sat down comfortably at the +foot of the tree. + + +I wish I could convey the mystery and the beauty of that night. Did you +ever sit by a campfire and watch the flames dance, and the sparks fly +upward into the cool dark air? Did you ever see the fitful light among +the tree-depths, at one moment opening vast shadowy vistas into the +forest, at the next dying downward and leaving it all in sombre mystery? +It came to me that night with the wonderful vividness of a fresh +experience. + +And what a friendly and companionable thing a campfire is! How generous +and outright it is! It plays for you when you wish so be lively, and it +glows for you when you wish to be reflective. + +After a while, for I did not feel in the least sleepy, I stepped out +of the woods to the edge of the pasture. All around me lay the dark and +silent earth, and above the blue bowl of the sky, all glorious with +the blaze of a million worlds. Sometimes I have been oppressed by this +spectacle of utter space, of infinite distance, of forces too great for +me to grasp or understand, but that night it came upon me with fresh +wonder and power, and with a sense of great humility that I belonged +here too, that I was a part of it all--and would not be neglected or +forgotten. It seemed to me I never had a moment of greater faith than +that. + +And so, with a sense of satisfaction and peace, I returned to my fire. +As I sat there I could hear the curious noises of the woods, the little +droppings, cracklings, rustlings which seemed to make all the world +alive. I even fancied I could see small bright eyes looking out at my +fire, and once or twice I was almost sure I heard voices--whispering--, +perhaps the voices of the woods. + +Occasionally I added, with some amusement, a few dry pages of Montaigne +to the fire, and watched the cheerful blaze that followed. + +"No," said I, "Montaigne is not for the open spaces and the stars. +Without a roof over his head Montaigne would--well, die of sneezing." + +So I sat all night long there by the tree. Occasionally I dropped into a +light sleep, and then, as my fire died down, I grew chilly and awakened, +to build up the fire and doze again. I saw the first faint gray streaks +of dawn above the trees, I saw the pink glow in the east before the +sunrise, and I watched the sun himself rise upon a new day-- + +When I walked out into the meadow by daylight and looked about me +curiously, I saw, not forty rods away, the back of a barn. + + +"Be you the fellow that was daown in my cowpasture all night?" asked the +sturdy farmer. + +"I'm that fellow," I said. + +"Why didn't you come right up to the house?" + +"Well--" I said, and then paused. + +"Well..." said I. + + + +CHAPTER VIII. THE HEDGE + +Strange, strange, how small the big world is! + +"Why didn't you come right into the house?" the sturdy farmer had asked +me when I came out of the meadow where I had spent the night under the +stars. + +"Well," I said, turning the question as adroitly as I could, "I'll make +it up by going into the house now." + +So I went with him into his fine, comfortable house. + +"This is my wife," said he. + +A woman stood there facing me. "Oh!" she exclaimed, "Mr. Grayson!" + +I recalled swiftly a child--a child she seemed then--with braids down +her back, whom I had known when I first came to my farm. She had grown +up, married, and had borne three children, while I had been looking the +other way for a minute or two. She had not been in our neighborhood for +several years. + +"And how is your sister and Doctor McAlway?" + +Well, we had quite a wonderful visit, she made breakfast for me, asking +and talking eagerly as I ate. + +"We've just had news that old Mr. Toombs is dead." + +"Dead!" I exclaimed, dropping my fork; "old Nathan Toombs!" + +"Yes, he was my uncle. Did you know him?" + +"I knew Nathan Toombs," I said. + +I spent two days there with the Ransomes, for they would not hear of my +leaving, and half of our spare time, I think, was spent in discussing +Nathan Toombs. I was not able to get him out of my mind for days, for +his death was one of those events which prove so much and leave so much +unproven. + +I can recall vividly my astonishment at the first evidence I ever had of +the strange old man or of his work. It was not very long after I came +to my farm to live. I had taken to spending my spare evenings--the long +evenings of summer--in exploring the country roads for miles around, +getting acquainted with each farmstead, each bit of grove and meadow and +marsh, making my best bow to each unfamiliar hill, and taking everywhere +that toll of pleasure which comes of quiet discovery. + +One evening, having walked farther than usual, I came quite suddenly +around a turn in the road and saw stretching away before me an +extraordinary sight. + +I feel that I am conveying no adequate impression of what I beheld +by giving it any such prim and decorous name as--a Hedge. It was a +menagerie, a living, green menagerie! I had no sooner seen it than I +began puzzling my brain as to whether one of the curious ornaments into +which the upper part of the hedge had been clipped and trimmed was made +to represent the head of a horse, or a camel, or an Egyptian sphinx. + +The hedge was of arbor vitae and as high as a man's waist. At more or +less regular intervals the trees in it had been allowed to grow much +taller and had been wonderfully pruned into the similitude of towers, +pinnacles, bells, and many other strange designs. Here and there the +hedge held up a spindling umbrella of greenery, sometimes a double +umbrella--a little one above the big one--and over the gateway at the +centre; as a sort of final triumph, rose a grandiose arch of interlaced +branches upon which the artist had outdone himself in marvels of +ornamentation. + +I shall never forget the sensation of delight I had over this discovery, +or of how I walked, tiptoe, along the road in front, studying each of +the marvellous adornments. How eagerly, too, I looked over at the house +beyond--a rather bare, bleak house set on a slight knoll or elevation +and guarded at one corner by a dark spruce tree. At some distance +behind I saw a number of huge barns, a cattle yard and a silo--all the +evidences of prosperity--with well-nurtured fields, now yellowing with +the summer crops, spreading pleasantly away on every hand. + +It was nearly dark before I left that bit of roadside, and I shall never +forget the eerie impression I had as I turned back to take a final look +at the hedge, the strange, grotesque aspect it presented there in the +half light with the bare, lonely house rising from the knoll behind. + + +It was not until some weeks later that I met the owner of the wonderful +hedge. By that time, however, having learned of my interest, I found +the whole countryside alive with stories about it and about Old Nathan +Toombs, its owner. It was as though I had struck the rock of refreshment +in a weary land. + +I remember distinctly how puzzled was by the stories I heard. The +neighbourhood portrait--and ours is really a friendly neighbourhood--was +by no means flattering. Old Toombs was apparently of that type +of hard-shelled, grasping, self-reliant, old-fashioned farmer not +unfamiliar to many country neighbourhoods. He had come of tough old +American stock and he was a worker, a saver, and thus he had grown +rich, the richest farmer in the whole neighbourhood. He was a regular +individualistic American. + +"A dour man," said the Scotch Preacher, "but just--you must admit that +he is just." + +There was no man living about whom the Scotch Preacher could not find +something good to say. + +"Yes, just," replied Horace, "but hard--hard, and as mean as pusley." + +This portrait was true enough in itself, for I knew just the sort of an +aggressive, undoubtedly irritable old fellow it pictured, but somehow, +try as I would, I could not see any such old fellow wasting his moneyed +hours clipping bells, umbrellas, and camel's heads on his ornamental +greenery. It left just that incongruity which is at once the lure, +the humour, and the perplexity of human life. Instead of satisfying my +curiosity I was more anxious than ever to see Old Toombs with my own +eyes. + +But the weeks passed and somehow I did not meet him. He was a lonely, +unneighbourly old fellow. He had apparently come to fit into the +community without ever really becoming a part of it. His neighbours +accepted him as they accepted a hard hill in the town road. From time +to time he would foreclose a mortgage where he had loaned money to some +less thrifty farmer, or he would extend his acres by purchase, hard cash +down, or he would build a bigger barn. When any of these things happened +the community would crowd over a little, as it were, to give him more +room. It is a curious thing, and tragic, too, when you come to think of +it, how the world lets alone those people who appear to want to be let +alone. "I can live to myself," says the unneighbourly one. "Well, live +to yourself, then," cheerfully responds the world, and it goes about its +more or less amusing affairs and lets the unneighbourly one cut himself +off. + +So our small community had let Old Toombs go his way with all his money, +his acres, his hedge, and his reputation for being a just man. + +Not meeting him, therefore, in the familiar and friendly life of the +neighbourhood, I took to walking out toward his farm, looking freshly +at the wonderful hedge and musing upon that most fascinating of all +subjects--how men come to be what they are. And at last I was rewarded. + +One day I had scarcely reached the end of the hedge when I saw Old +Toombs himself, moving toward me down the country road. Though I had +never seen him before, I was at no loss to identify him. The first and +vital impression he gave me, if I can compress it into a single word, +was, I think, force--force. He came stubbing down the country road with +a brown hickory stick in his hand which at every step he set vigorously +into the soft earth. Though not tall, he gave the impression of being +enormously strong. He was thick, solid, firm--thick through the body, +thick through the thighs; and his shoulders--what shoulders they +were!--round like a maple log; and his great head with its thatching +of coarse iron-gray hair, though thrust slightly forward, seemed set +immovably upon them. + +He presented such a forbidding appearance that I was of two minds about +addressing him. Dour he was indeed! Nor shall I ever forget how he +looked when I spoke to him. He stopped short there in the road. On his +big square nose he wore a pair of curious spring-bowed glasses with +black rims. For a moment he looked at me through these glasses, raising +his chin a little, and then, deliberately wrinkling his nose, they fell +off and dangled at the length of the faded cord by which they were hung. +There was something almost uncanny about this peculiar habit of his and +of the way in which, afterward, he looked at me from under his bushy +gray brows. This was in truth the very man of the neighbourhood +portrait. + +"I am a new settler here," I said, "and I've been interested in looking +at your wonderful hedge." + +The old man's eyes rested upon me a moment with a mingled look of +suspicion and hostility. + +"So you've heard o' me," he said in a high-pitched voice, "and you've +heard o' my hedge." + +Again he paused and looked me over. "Well," he said, with an +indescribably harsh, cackling laugh, "I warrant you've heard nothing +good o' me down there. I'm a skinflint, ain't I? I'm a hard citizen, +ain't I? I grind the faces o' the poor, don't I?" + +At first his words were marked by a sort of bitter humour, but as +he continued to speak his voice rose higher and higher until it was +positively menacing. + +There were just two things I could do--haul down the flag and retreat +ingloriously, or face the music. With a sudden sense of rising +spirits--for such things do not often happen to a man in a quiet country +road--I paused a moment, looking him square in the eye. + +"Yes," I said, with great deliberation, "you've given me just about the +neighborhood picture of yourself as I have had it. They do say you are +a skinflint, yes, and a hard man. They say that you are rich and +friendless; they say that while you are a just man, you do not know +mercy. These are terrible things to say of any man if they are true." + +I paused. The old man looked for a moment as though he were going to +strike me with his stick, but he neither stirred nor spoke. It was +evidently a wholly new experience for him. + +"Yes," I said, "you are not popular in this community, but what do +you suppose I care about that? I'm interested in your hedge. What I'm +curious to know--and I might as well tell you frankly--is how such a +man as you are reputed to be could grow such an extraordinary hedge. You +must have been at it a very long time." + +I was surprised at the effect of my words. The old man turned +partly aside and looked for a moment along the proud and flaunting +embattlements of the green marvel before us. Then he said in a moderate +voice: + +"It's a putty good hedge, a putty good hedge." + +"I've got him," I thought exultantly, "I've got him!" + +"How long ago did you start it?" I pursued my advantage eagerly. + +"Thirty-two years come spring," said he. + +"Thirty-two years!" I repeated; "you've been at it a long time." + +With that I plied him with questions in the liveliest manner, and in +five minutes I had the gruff old fellow stumping along at my side and +pointing out the various notable-features of his wonderful creation. +His suppressed excitement was quite wonderful to see. He would point his +hickory stick with a poking motion, and, when he looked up, instead of +throwing back his big, rough head, he bent at the hips, thus imparting +an impression of astonishing solidity. + +"It took me all o' ten years to get that bell right," he said, and, +"Take a look at that arch: now what is your opinion o' that?" + +Once, in the midst of our conversation, he checked himself abruptly and +looked around at me with a sudden dark expression of suspicion. I saw +exactly what lay in his mind, but I continued my questioning as though +I perceived no change in him. It was only momentary, however, and he was +soon as much interested as before. He talked as though he had not had +such an opportunity before in years--and I doubt whether he had. It +was plain to see that if any one ever loved anything in this world, Old +Toombs loved that hedge of his. Think of it, indeed! He had lived with +it, nurtured it, clipped it, groomed it--for thirty-two years. + +So we walked down the sloping field within the hedge, and it seemed +as though one of the deep mysteries of human nature was opening there +before me. What strange things men set their hearts upon! + +Thus, presently, we came nearly to the farther end of the hedge. Here +the old man stopped and turned around, facing me. + +"Do you see that valley?" he asked. "Do you see that slopin' valley up +through the meadow?" + +His voice rose suddenly to a sort of high-pitched violence. + +"That' passel o' hounds up there," he said, "want to build a road down +my valley." + +He drew his breath fiercely. + +"They want to build a road through my land. They want to ruin my +farm--they want to cut down my hedge. I'll fight 'em. I'll fight 'em. +I'll show 'em yet!" + +It was appalling. His face grew purple, his eyes narrowed to pin points +and grew red and angry--like the eyes of an infuriated boar. His hands +shook. Suddenly he turned upon me, poising his stick in his hand, and +said violently. + +"And who are you? Who are you? Are you one of these surveyor fellows?" + +"My name," I answered as quietly as I could, "is Grayson. I live on the +old Mather farm. I am not in the least interested in any of your road +troubles." + +He looked at me a moment more, and then seemed to shake himself or +shudder, his eyes dropped away and he began walking toward his house. +He had taken only a few steps, however, before he turned, and, without +looking at me, asked if I would like to see the tools he used for +trimming his hedge. When I hesitated, for I was decidedly uncomfortable, +he came up to me and laid his hand awkwardly on my arm. + +"You'll see something, I warrant, you never see before." + +It was so evident that he regretted his outbreak that I followed him, +and he showed me an odd double ladder set on low wheels which he said he +used in trimming the higher parts of his hedge. + +"It's my own invention," he said with pride. + +"And that"--he pointed as we came out of the tool shed--"is my house--a +good house. I planned it all myself. I never needed to take lessons of +any carpenter I ever see. And there's my barns. What do you think o' my +barns? Ever see any bigger ones? They ain't any bigger in this country +than Old Toombs's barns. They don't like Old Toombs, but they ain't any +of one of 'em can ekal his barns!" + +He followed me down to the roadside now quite loquacious. Even after I +had thanked him and started to go he called after me. + +When I stopped he came forward hesitatingly--and I had the impressions, +suddenly, and for the first time that he was an old man. It may have +been the result of his sudden fierce explosion of anger, but his hand +shook, his face was pale, and he seemed somehow broken. + +"You--you like my hedge?" he asked. + +"It is certainly wonderful hedge," I said. "I never have seen anything +like it?" + +"The' AIN'T nothing like it," he responded, quickly. "The' ain't nothing +like it anywhere." + +In the twilight as I passed onward I saw the lonely figure of the old +man moving with his hickory stick up the pathway to his lonely house. +The poor rich old man! + +"He thinks he can live wholly to himself," I said aloud. + +I thought, as I tramped homeward, of our friendly and kindly community, +of how we often come together of an evening with skylarking and +laughter, of how we weep with one another, of how we join in making +better roads and better schools, and building up the Scotch Preacher's +friendly little church. And in all these things Old Toombs has never had +a part. He is not even missed. + + +As a matter of fact, I reflected, and this is a strange, deep thing, no +man is in reality more dependent upon the community which he despises +and holds at arm's length than this same Old Nathan Toombs. Everything +he has, everything he does, gives evidence of it. And I don't mean this +in any mere material sense, though of course his wealth and his farm +would mean no more than the stones in his hills to him if he did not +have us here around him. Without our work, our buying, our selling, our +governing, his dollars would be dust. But we are still more necessary +to him in other ways: the unfriendly man is usually the one who +demands most from his neighbours. Thus, if he have not people's love or +confidence, then he will smite them until they fear him, or admire him, +or hate him. Oh, no man, however may try, can hold himself aloof! + +I came home deeply stirred from my visit with Old Toombs and lost no +time in making further inquiries. I learned, speedily, that there was +indeed something in the old man's dread of a road being built through +his farm. The case was already in the courts. His farm was a very old +one and extensive, and of recent years a large settlement of small +farmers had been developing the rougher lands in the upper part of the +townships called the Swan Hill district. Their only way to reach the +railroad was by a rocky, winding road among the 'hills,' while their +outlet was down a gently sloping valley through Old Toombs's farm. They +were now so numerous and politically important that they had stirred up +the town authorities. A proposition had been made to Old Toombs for +a right-of-way; they argued with him that it was a good thing for the +whole country, that it would enhance the values of his own upper lands, +and that they would pay him far more for a right-of-way than the land +was actually worth, but he had spurned them--I can imagine with what +vehemence. + +"Let 'em drive round," he said. "Didn't they know what they'd have to do +when they settled up there? What a passel o' curs! They can keep off o' +my land, or I'll have the law on 'em." + +And thus the matter came to the courts with the town attempting to +condemn the land for a road through Old Toombs's farm. + +"What can we do?" asked the Scotch Preacher, who was deeply distressed +by the bitterness of feeling displayed. "There is no getting to the man. +He will listen to no one." + +At one time I thought of going over and talking with Old Toombs myself, +for it seemed that I had been able to get nearer to him than any one +had in a long time. But I dreaded it. I kept dallying--for what, indeed, +could I have said to him? If he had been suspicious of me before, +how much more hostile he might be when I expressed an interest in his +difficulties. As to reaching the Swan Hill settlers, they were now +aroused to an implacable state of bitterness; and they had the people of +the whole community with them, for no one liked Old Toombs. + +Thus while I hesitated time passed and my next meeting with Old Toombs, +instead of being premeditated, came about quite unexpectedly. I was +walking in the town road late one afternoon when I heard a wagon +rattling behind me, and then, quite suddenly, a shouted, "Whoa." + +Looking around, I saw Old Toombs, his great solid figure mounted high +on the wagon seat, the reins held fast in the fingers of one hand. I was +struck by the strange expression in his face--a sort of grim exaltation. +As I stepped aside he burst out in a loud, shrill, cackling laugh: + +"He-he-he--he-he-he--" + +I was too astonished to speak at once. Ordinarily when I meet any one in +the town road it is in my heart to cry out to him, + +"Good morning, friend," or, "How are you, brother?" but I had no such +prompting that day. + +"Git in, Grayson," he said; "git in, git in." + +I climbed up beside him, and he slapped me on the knee with another +burst of shrill laughter. + +"They thought they had the old man," he said, starting up his horses. +"They thought there weren't no law left in Israel. I showed 'em." + +I cannot convey the bitter triumphancy of his voice. + +"You mean the road case?" I asked. + +"Road case!" he exploded, "they wan't no road case; they didn't have no +road case. I beat 'em. I says to 'em, 'What right hev any o' you on +my property? Go round with you,' I says. Oh, I beat 'em. If they'd had +their way, they'd 'a' cut through my hedge--the hounds!" + + +When he set me down at my door, I had said hardly a word. There seemed +nothing that could be said. I remember I stood for some time watching +the old man as he rode away, his wagon jolting in the country road, +his stout figure perched firmly in the seat. I went in with a sense of +heaviness at the heart. + +"Harriet," I said, "there are some things in this world beyond human +remedy." + +Two evenings later I was surprised to see the Scotch Preacher drive up +to my gate and hastily tie his horse. + +"David," said he, "there's bad business afoot. A lot of the young +fellows in Swan Hill are planning a raid on Old Toombs's hedge. They are +coming down to-night." + +I got my hat and jumped in with him. We drove up the hilly road and out +around Old Toombs's farm and thus came, near to the settlement. I had no +conception of the bitterness that the lawsuit had engendered. + +"Where once you start men hating one another," said the Scotch Preacher, +"there's utterly no end of it." + +I have seen our Scotch Preacher in many difficult places, but never have +I seen him rise to greater heights than he did that night. It is not in +his preaching that Doctor McAlway excels, but what a power he is among +men! He was like some stern old giant, standing there and holding up the +portals of civilization. I saw men melt under his words like wax; I saw +wild young fellows subdued into quietude; I saw unwise old men set to +thinking. + +"Man, man," he'd say, lapsing in his earnestness into the broad Scotch +accent of his youth, "you canna' mean plunder, and destruction, and +riot! You canna! Not in this neighbourhood!" + +"What about Old Toombs?" shouted one of the boys. + +I never shall forget how Doctor McAlway drew himself up nor the majesty +that looked from his eye. + +"Old Toombs!" he said in a voice that thrilled one to the bone, "Old +Toombs! Have you no faith, that you stand in the place of Almighty God +and measure punishments?" + +Before we left it was past midnight and we drove home, almost silent, in +the darkness. + +"Doctor McAlway," I said, "if Old Toombs could know the history of this +night it might change his point of view." + +"I doot it," said the Scotch Preacher. "I doot it." + +The night passed serenely; the morning saw Old Toombs's hedge standing +as gorgeous as ever. The community had again stepped aside and let Old +Toombs have his way: they had let him alone, with all his great barns, +his wide acres and his wonderful hedge. He probably never even knew what +had threatened him that night, nor how the forces of religion, of social +order, of neighbourliness in the community which he despised had, after +all, held him safe. There is a supreme faith among common people--it is, +indeed, the very taproot of democracy--that although the unfriendly one +may persist long in his power and arrogance, there is a moving Force +which commands events. + +I suppose if I were writing a mere story I should tell how Old Toombs +was miraculously softened at the age of sixty-eight years, and came into +new relationships with his neighbours, or else I should relate how the +mills of God, grinding slowly, had crushed the recalcitrant human atom +into dust. + +Either of these results conceivably might have happened--all things are +possible--and being ingeniously related would somehow have answered +a need in the human soul that the logic of events be constantly and +conclusively demonstrated in the lives of individual men and women. + +But as a matter of fact, neither of these things did happen in this +quiet community of ours. There exists, assuredly, a logic of events, oh, +a terrible, irresistible logic of events, but it is careless of the span +of any one man's life. We would like to have each man enjoy the sweets +of his own virtues and suffer the lash of his own misdeeds--but it +rarely so happens in life. No, it is the community which lives or dies, +is regenerated or marred by the deeds of men. + +So Old Toombs continued to live. So he continued to buy more land, raise +more cattle, collect more interest, and the wonderful hedge continued +to flaunt its marvels still more notably upon the country road. To what +end? Who knows? Who knows? + +I saw him afterward from time to time, tried to maintain some sort of +friendly relations with him; but it seemed as the years passed that he +grew ever lonelier and more bitter, and not only more friendless, but +seemingly more incapable of friendliness. In times past I have seen +what men call tragedies--I saw once a perfect young man die in his +strength--but it seems to me I never knew anything more tragic than the +life and death of Old Toombs. If it cannot be said of a man when he dies +that either his nation, his state, his neighborhood, his family, or at +least his wife or child, is better for his having lived, what CAN be +said for him? + +Old Toombs is dead. Like Jehoram, King of Judah, of whom it is terribly +said in the Book of Chronicles, "he departed without being desired." + +Of this story of Nathan Toombs we talked much and long there in the +Ransome home. I was with them, as I said, about two days--kept inside +most of the time by a driving spring rain which filled the valley with +a pale gray mist and turned all the country roads into running streams. +One morning, the weather having cleared, I swung my bag to my shoulder, +and with much warmth of parting I set my face again to the free road and +the open country. + + + +CHAPTER IX. THE MAN POSSESSED + +I suppose I was predestined (and likewise foreordained) to reach the +city sooner or later. My fate in that respect was settled for me when +I placed my trust in the vagrant road. I thought for a time that I was +more than a match for the Road, but I soon learned that the Road +was more than a match for me. Sly? There's no name for it. Alluring, +lovable, mysterious--as the heart of a woman. Many a time I followed +the Road where it led through innocent meadows or climbed leisurely hill +slopes only to find that it had crept around slyly and led me before I +knew it into the back door of some busy town. + +Mostly in this country the towns squat low in the valleys, they lie in +wait by the rivers, and often I scarcely know of their presence until +I am so close upon them that I can smell the breath of their heated +nostrils and hear their low growlings and grumblings. + +My fear of these lesser towns has never been profound. I have even been +bold enough, when I came across one of them, to hasten straight through +as though assured that Cerberus was securely chained; but I found, +after a time, what I might indeed have guessed, that the Road, also led +irresistibly to the lair of the Old Monster himself, the He-one of the +species, where he lies upon the plain, lolling under his soiled gray +blanket of smoke. + +It is wonderful to be safe at home again, to watch the tender, reddish +brown shoots of the Virginia creeper reaching in at my study window, to +see the green of my own quiet fields, to hear the peaceful clucking of +the hens in the sunny dooryard--and Harriet humming at her work in the +kitchen. + + +When I left the Ransomes that fine spring morning, I had not the +slightest presentiment of what the world held in store for me. After +being a prisoner of the weather for so long, I took to the Road with +fresh joy. All the fields were of a misty greenness and there were pools +still shining in the road, but the air was deliciously clear, clean, +and soft. I came through the hill country for three or four miles, even +running down some of the steeper places for the very joy the motion gave +me, the feel of the air on my face. + +Thus I came finally to the Great Road, and stood for a moment looking +first this way, then that. + +"Where now?" I asked aloud. + +With an amusing sense of the possibilities that lay open before me, I +closed my eyes, turned slowly around several times and then stopped. +When I opened my eyes I was facing nearly southward: and that way I set +out, not knowing in the least what Fortune had presided at that turning. +If I had gone the other way-- + +I walked vigorously for two or three hours, meeting or passing many +people upon the busy road. Automobiles there were in plenty, and loaded +wagons, and jolly families off for town, and a herdsman driving sheep, +and small boys on their way to school with their dinner pails, and a +gypsy wagon with lean, led horses following behind, and even a Jewish +peddler with a crinkly black beard, whom I was on the very point of +stopping. + +"I should like sometime to know a Jew," I said to myself. + +As I travelled, feeling like one who possesses hidden riches, I came +quite without warning upon the beginning of my great adventure. I had +been looking for a certain thing all the morning, first on one side +of the road, then the other, and finally I was rewarded. There it was, +nailed high upon tree, the curious, familiar sign: + +[ REST ] + +I stopped instantly. It seemed like an old friend. + +"Well," said I. "I'm not at all tired, but I want to be agreeable." + +With that I sat down on a convenient stone, took off my hat, wiped my +forehead, and looked about me with satisfaction, for it was a pleasant +country. + +I had not been sitting there above two minutes when my eyes fell upon +one of the oddest specimens of humanity (I thought then) that ever I +saw. He had been standing near the roadside, just under the tree upon +which I had seen the sign, "Rest." My heart dotted and carried one. + +"The sign man himself!" I exclaimed. + +I arose instantly and walked down the road toward him. + +"A man has only to stop anywhere here," I said exultantly, "and things +happen." + +The stranger's appearance was indeed extraordinary. He seemed at first +glimpse to be about twice as large around the hips as he was at +the shoulders, but this I soon discovered to be due to no natural +avoir-dupois but to the prodigious number of soiled newspapers and +magazines with which the low-hanging pockets of his overcoat were +stuffed. For he was still wearing an old shabby overcoat though the +weather was warm and bright--and on his head was an odd and outlandish +hat. It was of fur, flat at the top, flat as a pie tin, with the +moth-eaten earlaps turned up at the sides and looking exactly like small +furry ears. These, with the round steel spectacles which he wore--the +only distinctive feature of his countenance--gave him an indescribably +droll appearance. + +"A fox!" I thought. + +Then I looked at him more closely. + +"No," said I, "an owl, an owl!" + +The stranger stepped out into the road and evidently awaited my +approach. My first vivid impression of his face--I remember it afterward +shining with a strange inward illumination--was not favourable. It was a +deep-lined, scarred, worn-looking face, insignificant if not indeed ugly +in its features, and yet, even at the first glance, revealing something +inexplainable--incalculable-- + +"Good day, friend," I said heartily. + +Without replying to my greeting, he asked: + +"Is this the road to Kilburn?"--with a faint flavour of foreignness in +his words. + +"I think it is," I replied, and I noticed as he lifted his hand to thank +me that one finger was missing and that the hand itself was cruelly +twisted and scarred. + +The stranger instantly set off up the Road without giving me much more +attention than he would have given any other signpost. I stood a moment +looking after him--the wings of his overcoat beating about his legs and +the small furry ears on his cap wagging gently. + +"There," said I aloud, "is a man who is actually going somewhere." + +So many men in this world are going nowhere in particular that when one +comes along--even though he be amusing and insignificant--who is really +(and passionately) going somewhere, what a stir he communicates to a +dull world! We catch sparks of electricity from the very friction of his +passage. + +It was so with this odd stranger. Though at one moment I could not help +smiling at him, at the next I was following him. + +"It may be," said I to myself, "that this is really the sign man!" + +I felt like Captain Kidd under full sail to capture a treasure ship; and +as I approached I was much agitated as to the best method of grappling +and boarding. I finally decided, being a lover of bold methods, to let +go my largest gun first--for moral effect. + +"So," said I, as I ran alongside, "you are the man who puts up the +signs." + +He stopped and looked at me. + +"What signs?" + +"Why the sign 'Rest' along this road." + +He paused for some seconds with a perplexed expression on his face. + +"Then you are not the sign man?" I said. + +"No," he replied, "I ain't any sign man." + +I was not a little disappointed, but having made my attack, I determined +to see if there was any treasure aboard--which, I suppose, should be the +procedure of any well-regulated pirate. + +"I'm going this way myself," I said, "and if you have no objections--" + +He stood looking at me curiously, indeed suspiciously, through his round +spectacles. + +"Have you got the passport?" he asked finally. + +"The passport!" I exclaimed, mystified in my turn. + +"Yes," said he, "the passport. Let me see your hand." + +When I held out my hand he looked at it closely for a moment, and then +took it with a quick warm pressure in one of his, and gave it a little +shake, in a way not quite American. + +"You are one of us," said he, "you work." + +I thought at first that it was a bit of pleasantry, and I was about +to return it in kind when I saw plainly in his face a look of solemn +intent. + +"So," he said, "we shall travel like comrades." + +He thrust his scarred hand through my arm, and we walked up the road +side by side, his bulging pockets beating first against his legs and +then against mine, quite impartially. + +"I think," said the stranger, "that we shall be arrested at Kilburn." + +"We shall!" I exclaimed with something, I admit, of a shock. + +"Yes," he said, "but it is all in the day's work." + +"How is that?" + +He stopped in the road and faced me. Throwing back his overcoat he +pointed to a small red button on his coat lapel. + +"They don't want me in Kilburn," said he, "the mill men are strikin' +there, and the bosses have got armed men on every corner. Oh, the +capitalists are watchin' for me, all right." + +I cannot convey the strange excitement I felt. It seemed as though these +words suddenly opened a whole new world around me--a world I had heard +about for years, but never entered. And the tone in which he had used +the word "capitalist!" I had almost to glance around to make sure that +there were no ravening capitalists hiding behind the trees. + +"So you are a Socialist," I said. + +"Yes," he answered. "I'm one of those dangerous persons." + +First and last I have read much of Socialism, and thought about it, too, +from the quiet angle of my farm among the hills, but this was the first +time I had ever had a live Socialist on my arm. I could not have been +more surprised if the stranger had said, "Yes, I am Theodore Roosevelt." + +One of the discoveries we keep making all our life long (provided we +remain humble) is the humorous discovery of the ordinariness of the +extraordinary. Here was this disrupter of society, this man of the +red flag--here he was with his mild spectacled eyes and his furry ears +wagging as he walked. It was unbelievable!--and the sun shining on him +quite as impartially as it shone on me. + +Coming at last to a pleasant bit of woodland, where a stream ran under +the roadway, I said: + +"Stranger, let's sit down and have a bite of luncheon." + +He began to expostulate, said he was expected in Kilburn. + +"Oh, I've plenty for two," I said, "and I can say, at least, that I am a +firm believer in cooperation." + +Without more urging he followed me into the woods, where we sat down +comfortably under a tree. + +Now, when I take a fine thick sandwich out of my bag, I always feel like +making it a polite bow, and before I bite into a big brown doughnut, I +am tempted to say, "By your leave, madam," and as for MINCE PIE-----Beau +Brummel himself could not outdo me in respectful consideration. But +Bill Hahn neither saw, nor smelled, nor, I think, tasted Mrs. Ransome's +cookery. As soon as we sat down he began talking. From time to time +he would reach out for another sandwich or doughnut or pickle (without +knowing in the least which he was getting), and when that was gone some +reflex impulse caused him to reach out for some more. When the last +crumb of our lunch had disappeared Bill Hahn still reached out. His hand +groped absently about, and coming in contact with no more doughnuts or +pickles he withdrew it--and did not know, I think, that the meal was +finished. (Confidentially, I have speculated on what might have happened +if the supply had been unlimited!) + +But that was Bill Hahn. Once started on his talk, he never thought of +food or clothing or shelter; but his eyes glowed, his face lighted up +with a strange effulgence, and he quite lost himself upon the tide of +his own oratory. I saw him afterward by a flare-light at the centre of a +great crowd of men and women--but that is getting ahead of my story. + +His talk bristled with such words as "capitalism," "proletariat," +"class-consciousness"--and he spoke with fluency of "economic +determinism" and "syndicalism." It was quite wonderful! And from time to +time, he would bring in a smashing quotation from Aristotle, Napoleon, +Karl Marx, or Eugene V. Debs, giving them all equal value, and he cited +statistics!--oh, marvellous statistics, that never were on sea or land. + +Once he was so swept away by his own eloquence that he sprang to his +feet and, raising one hand high above his head (quite unconscious that +he was holding up a dill pickle), he worked through one of his most +thrilling periods. + +Yes, I laughed, and yet there was so brave a simplicity about this odd, +absurd little man that what I laughed at was only his outward appearance +(and that he himself had no care for), and all the time I felt a growing +respect and admiration for him. He was not only sincere, but he was +genuinely simple--a much higher virtue, as Fenelon says. For while +sincere people do not aim at appearing anything but what they are, +they are always in fear of passing for something they are not. They are +forever thinking about themselves, weighing all their words and thoughts +and dwelling upon what they have done, in the fear of having done +too much or too little, whereas simplicity, as Fenelon says, is an +uprightness of soul which has ceased wholly to dwell upon itself or its +actions. Thus there are plenty of sincere folk in the world but few who +are simple. + +Well, the longer he talked, the less interested I was in what he said +and the more fascinated I became in what he was. I felt a wistful +interest in him: and I wanted to know what way he took to purge himself +of himself. I think if I had been in that group nineteen hundred years +ago, which surrounded the beggar who was born blind, but whose anointed +eyes now looked out upon glories of the world, I should have been among +the questioners: + +"What did he to thee? How opened he thine eyes?" + +I tried ineffectually several times to break the swift current of his +oratory and finally succeeded (when he paused a moment to finish off a +bit of pie crust). + +"You must have seen some hard experiences in your life," I said. + +"That I have," responded Bill Hahn, "the capitalistic system--" + +"Did you ever work in the mills yourself?" I interrupted hastily. + +"Boy and man," said Bill Hahn, "I worked in that hell for thirty-two +years--The class-conscious proletariat have only to exert themselves--" + +"And your wife, did she work too--and your sons and daughters?" + +A spasm of pain crossed his face. + +"My daughter?" he said. "They killed her in the mills." + +It was appalling--the dead level of the tone in which he uttered those +words--the monotone of an emotion long ago burned out, and yet leaving +frightful scars. + +"My friend!" I exclaimed, and I could not help laying my hand on his +arm. + +I had the feeling I often have with troubled children--an indescribable +pity that they have had to pass through the valley of the shadow, and I +not there to take them by the hand. + +"And was this--your daughter--what brought you to your present belief?" + +"No," said he, "oh, no. I was a Socialist, as you might say, from youth +up. That is, I called myself a Socialist, but, comrade, I've learned +this here truth: that it ain't of so much importance that you possess a +belief, as that the belief possess you. Do you understand?" + +"I think," said I, "that I understand." + +Well, he told me his story, mostly in a curious, dull, detached way--as +though he were speaking of some third person in whom he felt only a +brotherly interest, but from time to time some incident or observation +would flame up out of the narrative, like the opening of the door of a +molten pit--so that the glare hurt one!--and then the story would die +back again into quiet narrative. + +Like most working people he had never lived in the twentieth century at +all. He was still in the feudal age, and his whole life had been a blind +and ceaseless struggle for the bare necessaries of life, broken from +time to time by fierce irregular wars called strikes. He had never known +anything of a real self-governing commonwealth, and such progress as +he and his kind had made was never the result of their citizenship, +of their powers as voters, but grew out of the explosive and ragged +upheavals, of their own half-organized societies and unions. + +It was against the "black people" he said, that he was first on strike +back in the early nineties. He told me all about it, how he had been +working in the mills pretty comfortably--he was young and strong then; +with a fine growing family and a small home of his own. + +"It was as pretty a place as you would want to see," he said; "we grew +cabbages and onions and turnips--everything grew fine!--in the garden +behind the house." + +And then the "black people" began to come in, little by little at first, +and then by the carload. By the "black people" he meant the people +from Southern Europe, he called them "hordes"--"hordes and hordes +of 'em"--Italians mostly, and they began getting into the mills and +underbidding for the jobs, so that wages slowly went down and at the +same time the machines were speeded up. It seems that many of these +"black people" were single men or vigorous young married people with +only themselves to support, while the old American workers were men with +families and little homes to pay for, and plenty of old grandfathers and +mothers, to say nothing of babies, depending upon them. + +"There wasn't a living for a decent family left," he said. + +So they struck--and he told me in his dull monotone of the long +bitterness of that strike, the empty cupboards, the approach of winter +with no coal for the stoves and no warm clothing for the children. He +told me that many of the old workers began to leave the town (some bound +for the larger cities, some for the Far West). + +"But," said he with a sudden outburst of emotion, "I couldn't leave. I +had the woman and the children!" + +And presently the strike collapsed, and the workers rushed helter +skelter back to the mills to get their old jobs. "Begging like whipped +dogs," he said bitterly. + +Many of them found their places taken by the eager "black people," and +many had to go to work at lower wages in poorer places--punished for the +fight they had made. + +But he got along somehow, he said--"the woman was a good manager"--until +one day he had the misfortune to get his hand caught in the machinery. +It was a place which should have been protected with guards, but was +not. He was laid up for several weeks, and the company, claiming that +the accident was due to his own stupidity and carelessness, refused +even to pay his wages while he was idle. Well, the family had to live +somehow, and the woman and the daughter--"she was a little thing," he +said, "and frail"--the woman and the daughter went into the mill. But +even with this new source of income they began to fall behind. Money +which should have gone toward making the last payments on their home +(already long delayed by the strike) had now to go to the doctor and the +grocer. + +"We had to live," said Bill Hahn. + +Again and again he used this same phrase, "We had to live!" as a sort of +bedrock explanation for all the woes of life. + +After a time, with one finger gone and a frightfully scarred hand--he +held it up for me to see--he went back into the mill. + +"But it kept getting worse and worse," said he, "and finally I couldn't +stand it any longer." + +He and a group of friends got together secretly and tried to organize a +union, tried to get the workmen together to improve their own condition; +but in some way ("they had spies everywhere," he said) the manager +learned of the attempt and one morning when he reported at the mill he +was handed a slip asking him to call for his wages, that his help was no +longer required. + +"I'd been with that one company for twenty years and four months," he +said bitterly, "I'd helped in my small way to build it up, make it a big +concern payin' 28 per cent. dividends every year; I'd given part of my +right hand in doin' it--and they threw me out like an old shoe." + +He said he would have pulled up and gone away, but he still had the +little home and the garden, and his wife and daughter were still at +work, so he hung on grimly, trying to get some other job. "But what good +is a man for any other sort of work," he said, "when he has been trained +to the mills for thirty-two years!" + +It was not very long after that when the "great strike" began--indeed, +it grew out of the organization which he had tried to launched--and +Bill Hahn threw himself into it with all his strength. He was one of +the leaders. I shall not attempt to repeat here his description of the +bitter struggle, the coming of the soldiery, the street riots, the long +lists of arrests ("some," said he, "got into jail on purpose, so +that they could at least have enough to eat!"), the late meetings of +strikers, the wild turmoil and excitement. + +Of all this he told me, and then he stopped suddenly, and after a long +pause he said in a low voice: + +"Comrade, did ye ever see your wife and your sickly daughter and your +kids sufferin' for bread to eat?" + +He paused again with a hard, dry sob in his voice. + +"Did ye ever see that?" + +"No," said I, very humbly, "I have never seen anything like that." + +He turned on me suddenly, and I shall never forget the look on his face, +nor the blaze in his eyes: + +"Then what can you know about working-men?" + +What could I answer? + +A moment passed and then he said, as if a little remorseful at having +turned thus on me: + +"Comrade, I tell you, the iron entered my soul--them days." + +It seems that the leaders of the strike were mostly old employees like +Bill Hahn, and the company had conceived the idea that if these men +could be eliminated the organization would collapse, and the strikers be +forced back to work. One day Bill Hahn found that proceedings had been +started to turn him out of his home, upon which he had not been able to +keep up his payments, and at the same time the merchant, of whom he had +been a respected customer for years, refused to give him any further +credit. + +"But we lived somehow," he said, "we lived and we fought." + +It was then that he began to see clearly what it all meant. He said he +made a great discovery: that the "black people" against whom they had +struck in 1894 were not to blame! + +"I tell you," said he, "we found when we got started that them black +people--we used to call 'em dagoes--were just workin' people like +us--and in hell with us. They were good soldiers, them Eyetalians and +Poles and Syrians, they fought with us to the end." + +I shall not soon forget the intensely dramatic but perfectly simple way +in which he told me how he came, as he said, "to see the true light." +Holding up his maimed right hand (that trembled a little), he pointed +one finger upward. + +"I seen the big hand in the sky," he said, "I seen it as clear as +daylight." + +He said he saw at last what Socialism meant. One day he went home from a +strikers' meeting--one of the last, for the men were worn out with +their long struggle. It was a bitter cold day, and he was completely +discouraged. When he reached his own street he saw a pile of household +goods on the sidewalk in front of his home. He saw his wife there +wringing her hands and crying. He said he could not take a step further, +but sat down on a neighbour's porch and looked and looked. "It was +curious," he said, "but the only thing I could see or think about was +our old family clock which they had stuck on top of the pile, half +tipped over. It looked odd and I wanted to set it up straight. It was +the clock we bought when we were married, and we'd had it about twenty +years on the mantel in the livin'-room. It was a good clock," he said. + +He paused and then smiled a little. + +"I never have figured it out why I should have been able to think of +nothing but that clock," he said, "but so it was." + +When he got home, he found his frail daughter just coming out of the +empty house, "coughing as though she was dyin'." Something, he said, +seemed to stop inside him. Those were his words: "Something seemed to +stop inside 'o me." + +He turned away without saying a word, walked back to strike +headquarters, borrowed a revolver from a friend, and started out along +the main road which led into the better part of the town. + +"Did you ever hear o' Robert Winter?" he asked. + +"No," said I. + +"Well, Robert Winter was the biggest gun of 'em all. He owned the mills +there and the largest store and the newspaper--he pretty nearly owned +the town." + +He told me much more about Robert Winter which betrayed still a curious +sort of feudal admiration for him, and for his great place and power; +but I need not dwell on it here. He told me how he climbed through a +hemlock hedge (for the stone gateway was guarded) and walked through the +snow toward the great house. + +"An' all the time I seemed to be seein' my daughter Margy right there +before my eyes coughing as though she was dyin'." + +It was just nightfall and all the windows were alight. He crept up to a +clump of bushes under a window and waited there a moment while he drew +out and cocked his revolver. Then he slowly reached upward until his +head cleared the sill and he could look into the room. "A big, warm +room," he described it. + +"Comrade," said he, "I had murder in my heart that night." + +So he stood there looking in with the revolver ready cocked in his hand. + +"And what do you think I seen there?" he asked. + +"I cannot guess," I said. + +"Well," said Bill Hahn, "I seen the great Robert Winter that we had been +fighting for five long months--and he was down on his hands and knees on +the carpet--he had his little daughter on his back--and he was creepin' +about with her--an' she was laughin'." + +Bill Hahn paused. + +"I had a bead on him," he said, "but I couldn't do it--I just couldn't +do it." + +He came away all weak and trembling and cold, and, "Comrade," he said, +"I was cryin' like a baby, and didn't know why." + +The next day the strike collapsed and there was the familiar stampede +for work--but Bill Hahn did not go back. He knew it would be useless. A +week later his frail daughter died and was buried in the paupers field. + +"She was as truly killed," he said, "as though some one had fired a +bullet at her through a window." + +"And what did you do after that?" I asked, when he had paused for a long +time with his chin on his breast. + +"Well," said he, "I did a lot of thinking them days, and I says to +myself: 'This thing is wrong, and I will go out and stop it--I will go +out and stop it.'" + +As he uttered these words, I looked at him curiously--his absurd flat +fur hat with the moth-eaten ears, the old bulging overcoat, the +round spectacles, the scarred, insignificant face--he seemed somehow +transformed, a person elevated above himself, the tool of some vast +incalculable force. + +I shall never forget the phrase he used to describe his own feelings +when he had reached this astonishing decision to go out and stop the +wrongs of the World. He said he "began to feel all clean inside." + +"I see it didn't matter what become o' me, and I began to feel all clean +inside." + +It seemed, he explained, as though something big and strong had got hold +of him, and he began to be happy. + +"Since then," he said in a low voice, "I've been happier than I ever +was before in all my life. I ain't got any family, nor any home--rightly +speakin'--nor any money, but, comrade, you see here in front of you, a +happy man." + +When he had finished his story we sat quiet for some time. + +"Well," said he, finally, "I must be goin'. The committee will wonder +what's become o' me." + +I followed him out to the road. There I put my hand on his shoulder, and +said: + +"Bill Hahn, you are a better man than I am." + +He smiled, a beautiful smile, and we walked off together down the road. + +I wish I had gone on with him at that time into the city, but somehow I +could not do it. I stopped near the top of the hill where one can see in +the distance that smoky huddle of buildings which is known as Kilburn, +and though he urged me, I turned aside and sat down in the edge of a +meadow. There were many things I wanted to think about, to get clear in +my mind. + +As I sat looking out toward that great city, I saw three men walking +in the white road. As I watched them, I could see them coming quickly, +eagerly. Presently they threw up their hands and evidently began to +shout, though I could not hear what they said. At that moment I saw my +friend Bill Hahn running in the road, his coat skirts flapping heavily +about his legs. When they met they almost fell into another's arms. + +I suppose it was so that the early Christians, those who hid in the +Roman catacombs, were wont to greet one another. + + +So I sat thinking. + +"A man," I said to myself, "who can regard himself as a function, not an +end of creation, has arrived." + +After a time I got up and walked down the hill--some strange force +carrying me onward--and came thus to the city of Kilburn. + + + +CHAPTER X. I AM CAUGHT UP INTO LIFE + +I can scarcely convey in written words the whirling emotions I felt +when I entered the city of Kilburn. Every sight, every sound, recalled +vividly and painfully the unhappy years I had once spent in another and +greater city. Every mingled odour of the streets--and there is nothing +that will so surely re-create (for me) the inner emotion of a time or +place as a remembered odour--brought back to me the incidents of that +immemorial existence. + +For a time, I confess it frankly here, I felt afraid. More than once I +stopped short in the street where I was walking, and considered turning +about and making again for the open country. Some there may be who will +feel that I am exaggerating my sensations and impressions, but they do +not know of my memories of a former life, nor of how, many years ago, +I left the city quite defeated, glad indeed that I was escaping, and +thinking (as I have related elsewhere) that I should never again set +foot upon a paved street. These things went deep with me. Only the other +day, when a friend asked me how old I was, I responded instantly--our +unpremeditated words are usually truest--with the date of my arrival at +this farm. + +"Then you are only ten years old!" he exclaimed with a laugh, thinking I +was joking. + +"Well," I said, "I am counting only the years worth living." + +No; I existed, but I never really lived until I was reborn, that +wonderful summer here among these hills. + +I said I felt afraid in the streets of Kilburn, but it was no physical +fear. Who could be safer in a city than the man who has not a penny in +his pockets? It was rather a strange, deep, spiritual shrinking. There +seemed something so irresistible about this life of the city, so utterly +overpowering. I had a sense of being smaller than I had previously +felt myself, that in some way my personality, all that was strong or +interesting or original about me, was being smudged over, rubbed out. +In the country I had in some measure come to command life, but here, +it seemed to me, life was commanding me and crushing me down. It is a +difficult thing to describe: I never felt just that way before. + +I stopped at last on the main street of Kilburn in the very heart of +the town. I stopped because it seemed necessary to me, like a man in a +flood, to touch bottom, to get hold upon something immovable and stable. +It was just at that hour of evening when the stores and shops are +pouring forth their rivulets of humanity to join the vast flood of the +streets. I stepped quickly aside into a niche near the corner of an +immense building of brick and steel and glass, and there I stood with my +back to the wall, and I watched the restless, whirling, torrential tide +of the streets. I felt again, as I had not felt it before in years, +the mysterious urge of the city--the sense of unending, overpowering +movement. + +There was another strange, indeed uncanny, sensation that began to creep +over me as I stood there. Though hundreds upon hundreds of men and women +were passing me every minute, not one of them seemed to see me. Most +of them did not even look in my direction, and those who did turn their +eyes toward me see me to glance through me to the building behind. I +wonder if this is at all a common experience, or whether I was unduly +sensitive that day, unduly wrought up? I began to feel like one clad in +garments of invisibility. I could see, but was not seen. I could feel, +but was not felt. In the country there are few who would not stop to +speak to me, or at least appraise me with their eyes; but here I was a +wraith, a ghost--not a palpable human being at all. For a moment I felt +unutterably lonely. + +It is this way with me. When I have reached the very depths of any +serious situation or tragic emotion, something within me seems at last +to stop--how shall I describe it?--and I rebound suddenly and see +the world, as it were, double--see that my condition instead of being +serious or tragic is in reality amusing--and I usually came out of it +with an utterly absurd or whimsical idea. It was so upon this occasion. +I think it was the image of my robust self as a wraith that did it. + +"After all," I said aloud taking a firm hold on the good hard flesh of +one of my legs, "this is positively David Grayson." + +I looked out again into that tide of faces--interesting, tired, passive, +smiling, sad, but above all, preoccupied faces. + +"No one," I thought, "seems to know that David Grayson has come to +town." + +I had the sudden, almost irresistible notion of climbing up a step near +me, holding up one hand, and crying out: + +"Here I am, my friends. I am David Grayson. I am real and solid and +opaque; I have plenty of red blood running in my veins. I assure you +that I am a person well worth knowing." + +I should really have enjoyed some such outlandish enterprise, and I am +not at all sure yet that it would not have brought me adventures and +made me friends worth while. We fail far more often by under-daring than +by over-daring. + +But this imaginary object had the result, at least, of giving me a new +grip on things. I began to look out upon the amazing spectacle before +me in a different mood. It was exactly like some enormous anthill into +which an idle traveller had thrust his cane. Everywhere the ants were +running out of their tunnels and burrows, many carrying burdens and +giving one strangely the impression that while they were intensely alive +and active, not more than half of them had any clear idea of where they +were going. And serious, deadly serious, in their haste! I felt a strong +inclination to stop a few of them and say: + +"Friends, cheer up. It isn't half as bad as you think it is. Cheer up!" + +After a time the severity of the human flood began to abate, and here +and there at the bottom of that gulch of a street, which had begun to +fill with soft, bluish-gray shadows, the evening lights a appeared. The +air had grown cooler; in the distance around a corner I heard a street +organ break suddenly and joyously into the lively strains of "The +Wearin' o' the Green." + +I stepped out into the street with quite a new feeling of adventure. And +as if to testify that I was now a visible person a sharp-eyed newsboy +discovered me--the first human being in Kilburn who had actually seen +me--and came up with a paper in his hand. + +"Herald, boss?" + +I was interested in the shrewd, world-wise, humorous look in the +urchin's eyes. + +"No," I began, with the full intent of bantering him into some sort of +acquaintance; but he evidently measured my purchasing capacity quite +accurately, for he turned like a flash to another customer. "Herald, +boss?" + +"You'll have to step lively, David Grayson," I said to myself, "if you +get aboard in this city." + +A slouchy negro with a cigarette in his fingers glanced at me in passing +and then, hesitating, turned quickly toward me. + +"Got a match, boss?" + +I gave him a match. + +"Thank you, boss," and he passed on down the street. + +"I seem to be 'boss' around here," I said. + +This contact, slight as it was, gave me a feeling of warmth, removed a +little the sensation of aloofness I had felt, and I strolled slowly down +the street, looking in at the gay windows, now ablaze with lights, and +watching the really wonderful procession of vehicles of all shapes and +sizes that rattled by on the pavement. Even at that hour of the day I +think there were more of them in one minute than I see in a whole month +at my farm. + +It's a great thing to wear shabby clothes and an old hat. Some of the +best things I have ever known, like these experiences of the streets, +have resulted from coming up to life from underneath; of being taken for +less than I am rather than for more than I am. + +I did not always believe in this doctrine. For many years--the years +before I was rightly born into this alluring world--I tried quite the +opposite course. I was constantly attempting to come down to life from +above. Instead of being content to carry through life a sufficiently +wonderful being named David Grayson I tried desperately to set up and +support a sort of dummy creature which, so clad, so housed, so fed, +should appear to be what I thought David Grayson ought to appear in the +eyes of the world. Oh, I spent quite a lifetime trying to satisfy other +people! + +Once I remember staying at home, in bed, reading "Huckleberry Finn," +while I sent my trousers out to be mended. + +Well, that dummy Grayson perished in a cornfield. His empty coat served +well for a scarecrow. A wisp of straw stuck out through a hole in his +finest hat. + +And I--the man within--I escaped, and have been out freely upon the +great adventure of life. + +If a shabby coat (and I speak here also symbolically, not forgetful of +spiritual significances) lets you into the adventurous world of +those who are poor it does not on the other hand rob you of any true +friendship among those who are rich or mighty. I say true friendship, +for unless a man who is rich and mighty is able to see through my shabby +coat (as I see through his fine one), I shall gain nothing by knowing +him. + +I've permitted myself all this digression--left myself walking alone +there in the streets of Kilburn while I philosophized upon the ways +and means of life--not without design, for I could have had no such +experiences as I did have in Kilburn if I had worn a better coat or +carried upon me the evidences of security in life. + +I think I have already remarked upon the extraordinary enlivenment of +wits which comes to the man who has been without a meal or so and does +not know when or where he is again to break his fast. Try it, friend and +see! It was already getting along in the evening, and I knew or supposed +I knew no one in Kilburn save only Bill Hahn, Socialist who was little +better off than I was. + +In this emergency my mind began to work swiftly. A score of fascinating +plans for getting my supper and a bed to sleep in flashed through my +mind. + +"Why," said I, "when I come to think of it, I'm comparatively rich. I'll +warrant there are plenty of places in Kilburn, and good ones, too, where +I could barter a chapter of Montaigne and a little good conversation +for a first-rate supper, and I've no doubt that I could whistle up a bed +almost anywhere!" + +I thought of a little motto I often repeat to myself: + +TO KNOW LIFE, BEGIN ANYWHERE! + +There were several people on the streets of Kilburn that night who don't +know yet how very near they were to being boarded by a somewhat shabby +looking farmer who would have offered them, let us say, a notable +musical production called "Old Dan Tucker," exquisitely performed on a +tin whistle, in exchange for a good honest supper. + +There was one man in particular--a fine, pompous citizen who came down +the street swinging his cane and looking as though the universe was a +sort of Christmas turkey, lying all brown and sizzling before him ready +to be carved--a fine pompous citizen who never realized how nearly Fate +with a battered volume of Montaigne in one hand and a tin whistle in the +other--came to pouncing upon him that evening! And I am firmly convinced +that if I had attacked him with the Great Particular Word he would have +carved me off a juicy slice of the white breast meat. + +"I'm getting hungry," I said; "I must find Bill Hahn!" + +I had turned down a side street, and seeing there in front of a building +a number of lounging men with two or three cabs or carriages standing +nearby in the street I walked up to them. It was a livery barn. + +Now I like all sorts of out-of-door people: I seem to be related to them +through horses and cattle and cold winds and sunshine. I like them and +understand them, and they seem to like me and understand me. So I walked +up to the group of jolly drivers and stablemen intending to ask my +directions. The talking died out and they all turned to look at me. I +suppose I was not altogether a familiar type there in the city streets. +My bag, especially, seemed to set me apart as a curious person. + +"Friends," I said, "I am a farmer--" + +They all broke out laughing; they seemed to know it already! I was just +a little taken aback, but I laughed, too, knowing that there was a way +of getting at them if only I could find it. + +"It may surprise you," I said, "but this is the first time in some dozen +years that I've been in a big city like this." + +"You hadn't 'ave told us, partner!" said one of them, evidently the wit +of the group, in a rich Irish brogue. + +"Well," I responded, laughing with the best of them, "you've been living +right here all the time, and don't realize how amusing and curious the +city looks to me. Why, I feel as though I had been away sleeping for +twenty years, like Rip Van Winkle. When I left the city there was +scarcely an automobile to be seen anywhere--and now look at them +snorting through the streets. I counted twenty-two passing that corner +up there in five minutes by the clock." + +This was a fortunate remark, for I found instantly that the invasion +of the automobile was a matter of tremendous import to such Knights of +Bucephalus as these. + +At first the wit interrupted me with amusing remarks, as wits will, but +I soon had him as quiet as the others. For I have found the things that +chiefly interest people are the things they already know about--provided +you show them that these common things are still mysterious, still +miraculous, as indeed they are. + +After a time some one pushed me a stable stool and I sat down among +them, and we had quite a conversation, which finally developed into an +amusing comparison (I wish I had room to repeat it here) between the +city and the country. I told them something about my farm, how much I +enjoyed it, and what a wonderful free life one had in the country. In +this I was really taking an unfair advantage of them, for I was trading +on the fact that every man, down deep in his heart, has more or less of +an instinct to get back to the soil--at least all outdoor men have. And +when I described the simplest things about my barn, and the cattle and +pigs, and the bees--and the good things we have to eat--I had every one +of them leaning forward and hanging on my words. + +Harriet sometimes laughs at me for the way I celebrate farm life. +She says all my apples are the size of Hubbard squashes, my eggs all +double-yolked, and my cornfields tropical jungles. Practical Harriet! My +apples may not ALL be the size of Hubbard squashes, but they are good, +sizable apples, and as for flavour--all the spices of Arcady--! And I +believe, I KNOW, from my own experience that these fields and hills are +capable of healing men's souls. And when I see people wandering around +a lonesome city like Kilburn, with never a soft bit of soil to put their +heels into, nor a green thing to cultivate, nor any corn or apples or +honey to harvest, I feel--well, that they are wasting their time. + +(It's a fact, Harriet!) + + +Indeed I had the most curious experience with my friend the wit--his +name I soon learned was Healy--a jolly, round, red-nosed, outdoor chap +with fists that looked like small-sized hams, and a rich, warm Irish +voice. At first he was inclined to use me as the ready butt of his +lively mind, but presently he became so much interested in what I was +saying that he sat squarely in front of me with both his jolly eyes and +his smiling mouth wide open. + +"If ever you pass my way," I said to him, "just drop in and I'll give +you a dinner of baked beans"--and I smacked--"and home made bread" and I +smacked again--"and pumpkin pie"--and I smacked a third time--"that will +make your mouth water." + +All this smacking and the description of baked beans and pumpkin pie +had an odd counter effect upon ME; for I suddenly recalled my own tragic +state. So I jumped up quickly and asked directions for getting down to +the mill neighbourhood, where I hoped to find Bill Hahn. My friend Healy +instantly volunteered the information. + +"And now," I said, "I want to ask a small favour of you. I'm looking for +a friend, and I'd like to leave my bag here for the night." + +"Sure, sure," said the Irishman heartily. "Put it there in the +office--on top o' the desk. It'll be all right." + +So I put it in the office and was about to say good-bye, when my friend +said to me: + +"Come in, partner, and have a drink before you go"--and he pointed to a +nearby saloon. + +"Thank you," I answered heartily, for I knew it was as fine a bit of +hospitality as he could offer me, "thank you, but I must find my friend +before it gets too late." + +"Aw, come on now," he cried, taking my arm. "Sure you'll be better off +for a bit o' warmth inside." + +I had hard work to get away from them, and I am as sure as can be that +they would have found supper and a bed for me if they had known I needed +either. + +"Come agin," Healy shouted after me, "we're glad to see a farmer any +toime." + +My way led me quickly out of the well-groomed and glittering main +streets of the town. I passed first through several blocks of quiet +residences, and then came to a street near the river which was garishly +lighted, and crowded with small, poor shops and stores, with a saloon on +nearly every corner. I passed a huge, dark, silent box of a mill, and I +saw what I never saw before in a city, armed men guarding the streets. + +Although it was growing late--it was after nine o'clock--crowds +of people were still parading the streets, and there was something +intangibly restless, something tense, in the very atmosphere of the +neighbourhood. It was very plain that I had reached the strike district. +I was about to make some further inquiries for the headquarters of the +mill men or for Bill Hahn personally, when I saw, not far ahead of me, a +black crowd of people reaching out into the street. Drawing nearer I +saw that an open space or block between two rows of houses was literally +black with human beings, and in the centre on a raised platform, under a +gasolene flare, I beheld my friend of the road, Bill Hahn. The overcoat +and the hat with the furry ears had disappeared, and the little man +stood there bare-headed, before that great audience. + +My experience in the world is limited, but I have never heard anything +like that speech for sheer power. It was as unruly and powerful and +resistless as life itself. It was not like any other speech I ever +heard, for it was no mere giving out by the orator of ideas and thoughts +and feelings of his own. It seemed rather--how shall I describe it?--as +though the speaker was looking into the very hearts of that vast +gathering of poor men and poor women and merely telling them what +they themselves felt, but could not tell. And I shall never forget the +breathless hush of the people or the quality of their responses to the +orator's words. It was as though they said, "Yes, yes" with a feeling of +vast relief--"Yes, yes--at last our own hopes and fears and desires are +being uttered--yes, yes." + +As for the orator himself, he held up one maimed hand and leaned over +the edge of the platform, and his undistinguished face glowed with the +white light of a great passion within. The man had utterly forgotten +himself. + +I confess, among those eager working people, clad in their poor +garments, I confess I was profoundly moved. Faith is not so bounteous a +commodity in this world that we can afford to treat even its unfamiliar +manifestations with contempt. And when a movement is hot with life, when +it stirs common men to their depths, look out! look out! + +Up to that time I had never known much of the practical workings of +Socialism; and the main contention of its philosophy has never accorded +wholly with my experience in life. + +But the Socialism of to-day is no mere abstraction--as it was, perhaps, +in the days of Brook Farm. It is a mode of action. Men whose view of +life is perfectly balanced rarely soil themselves with the dust of +battle. The heat necessary to produce social conflict (and social +progress--who knows?) is generated by a supreme faith that certain +principles are universal in their application when in reality they are +only local or temporary. + +Thus while one may not accept the philosophy of Socialism as a final +explanation of human life, he may yet look upon Socialism in action as +a powerful method of stimulating human progress. The world has been +lagging behind in its sense of brotherhood, and we now have the +Socialists knit together in a fighting friendship as fierce and narrow +in its motives as Calvinism, pricking us to reform, asking the cogent +question: + +"Are we not all brothers?" + +Oh, we are going a long way with these Socialists, we are going to +discover a new world of social relationships--and then, and then, like a +mighty wave; will flow in upon us a renewed and more wonderful sense of +the worth of the individual human soul. A new individualism, bringing +with it, perhaps, some faint realization of our dreams of a race of +Supermen, lies just beyond! Its prophets, girded with rude garments +and feeding upon the wild honey of poverty, are already crying in the +wilderness. + +I think I could have remained there at the Socialist meeting all night +long: there was something about it that brought a hard, dry twist to my +throat. But after a time my friend Bill Hahn, evidently quite worn out, +yielded his place to another and far less clairvoyant speaker, and the +crowd, among whom I now discovered quite a number of policemen, began to +thin out. + + +I made my way forward and saw Bill Hahn and several other men just +leaving the platform. I stepped up to him, but it was not until I called +him by name (I knew how absent minded he was!) that he recognized me. + +"Well, well," he said; "you came after all!" + +He seized me by both arms and introduced me to several of his companions +as "Brother Grayson." They all shook hands with me warmly. + +Although he was perspiring, Bill put on his overcoat and the old fur hat +with the ears, and as he now took my arm I could feel one of his bulging +pockets beating against my leg. I had not the slightest idea where they +were going, but Bill held me by the arm and presently we came, a block +or so distant, to a dark, narrow stairway leading up from the street. +I recall the stumbling sound of steps on the wooden boards, a laugh or +two, the high voice of a woman asserting and denying. Feeling our way +along the wall, we came to the top and went into a long, low, rather +dimly lighted room set about with tables and chairs--a sort of +restaurant. A number of men and a few women had already gathered there. +Among them my eyes instantly singled out a huge, rough-looking man who +stood at the centre of an animated group. He had thick, shaggy hair, +and one side of his face over the cheekbone was of a dull blue-black and +raked and scarred, where it had been burned in a Powder blast. He had +been a miner. His gray eyes, which had a surprisingly youthful and even +humorous expression, looked out from under coarse, thick, gray brows. A +very remarkable face and figure he presented. I soon learned that he +was R---- D----, the leader of whom I had often heard, and heard no good +thing. He was quite a different type from Bill Hahn: he was the man +of authority, the organizer, the diplomat--as Bill was the prophet, +preaching a holy war. + +How wonderful human nature is! Only a short time before I had been +thrilled by the intensity of the passion of the throng, but here the +mood suddenly changed to one of friendly gayety. Fully a third of those +present were women, some of them plainly from the mills and some of +them curiously different--women from other walks in life who had thrown +themselves heart and soul into the strike. Without ceremony but with +much laughing and joking, they found their places around the tables. A +cook, who appeared in a dim doorway was greeted with a shout, to which +he responded with a wide smile, waving the long spoon which he held in +his hand. + +I shall not attempt to give any complete description of the gathering +or of what they said or did. I think I could devote a dozen pages to the +single man who was placed next to me. I was interested in him from the +outset. The first thing that struck me about him was an air of neatness, +even fastidiousness, about his person--though he wore no stiff collar, +only a soft woollen shirt without a necktie. He had the long sensitive, +beautiful hands of an artist, but his face was thin and marked with +the pallor peculiar to the indoor worker. I soon learned that he was a +weaver in the mills, an Englishman by birth, and we had not talked two +minutes before I found that, while he had never had any education in +the schools, he had been a gluttonous reader of books--all kind of +books--and, what is more, had thought about them and was ready with +vigorous (and narrow) opinions about this author or that. And he knew +more about economics and sociology, I firmly believe, than half the +college professors. A truly remarkable man. + +It was an Italian restaurant, and I remember how, in my hunger, I +assailed the generous dishes of boiled meat and spaghetti. A red wine +was served in large bottles which circulated rapidly around the table, +and almost immediately the room began to fill with tobacco smoke. Every +one seemed to be talking and laughing at once, in the liveliest spirit +of good fellowship. They joked from table to table, and sometimes the +whole room would quiet down while some one told a joke, which invariably +wound up with a roar of laughter. + +"Why," I said, "these people have a whole life, a whole society, of +their own!" + +In the midst of this jollity the clear voice of a girl rang out with the +first lines of a song. Instantly the room was hushed: + + Arise, ye prisoners of starvation, + Arise, ye wretched of the earth, + For justice thunders condemnation + A better world's in birth. + +These were the words she sang, and when the clear, sweet voice died +down the whole company, as though by a common impulse, arose from their +chairs, and joined in a great swelling chorus: + + It is the final conflict, + Let each stand in his place, + The Brotherhood of Man + Shall be the human race. + +It was beyond belief, to me, the spirit with which these words were +sung. In no sense with jollity--all that seemed to have been dropped +when they came to their feet--but with an unmistakable fervour of faith. +Some of the things I had thought and dreamed about secretly among the +hills of my farm all these years, dreamed about as being something far +off and as unrealizable as the millennium, were here being sung abroad +with jaunty faith by these weavers of Kilburn, these weavers and workers +whom I had schooled myself to regard with a sort of distant pity. + +Hardly had the company sat down again, with a renewal of the flow of +jolly conversation When I heard a rapping on one of the tables. I saw +the great form of R----- D----- slowly rising. + +"Brothers and sisters," he said, "a word of caution. The authorities +will lose no chance of putting us in the wrong. Above all we must +comport ourselves here and in the strike with great care. We are +fighting a great battle, bigger than we are--" + +At this instant the door from the dark hallway suddenly opened and a +man in a policeman's uniform stepped in. There fell an instant's dead +silence--an explosive silence. Every person there seemed to be petrified +in the position in which his attention was attracted. Every eye was +fixed on the figure at the door. For an instant no one said a word; then +I heard a woman's shrill voice, like a rifle-shot: + +"Assassin!" + +I cannot imagine what might have happened next, for the feeling in the +room, as in the city itself, was at the tensest, had not the leader +suddenly brought the goblet which he held in his hand down with a bang +upon the table. + +"As I was saying," he continued in a steady, clear voice, "we are +fighting to-day the greatest of battles, and we cannot permit trivial +incidents, or personal bitterness, or small persecutions, to turn us +from the great work we have in hand. However our opponents may comport +themselves, we must be calm, steady, sure, patient, for we know that our +cause is just and will prevail." + +"You're right," shouted a voice back in the room. + +Instantly the tension relaxed, conversation started again and every +one turned away from the policeman at the door. In a few minutes, he +disappeared without having said a word. + +There was no regular speaking, and about midnight the party began to +break up. I leaned over and said to my friend Bill Hahn: + +"Can you find me a place to sleep tonight?" + +"Certainly I can," he said heartily. + +There was to be a brief conference of the leaders after the supper, and +those present soon departed. I went down the long, dark stairway and +out into the almost deserted street. Looking up between the buildings I +could see the clear blue sky and the stars. And I walked slowly up and +down awaiting my friend and trying, vainly to calm my whirling emotions. + +He came at last and I went with him. That night I slept scarcely at all, +but lay looking up into the darkness. And it seemed as though, as I +lay there, listening, that I could hear the city moving in its restless +sleep and sighing as with heavy pain. All night long I lay there +thinking. + + + +CHAPTER XI. I COME TO GRAPPLE WITH THE CITY + +I have laughed heartily many times since I came home to think of the +Figure of Tragedy I felt myself that morning in the city of Kilburn. I +had not slept well, had not slept at all, I think, and the experiences +and emotions of the previous night still lay heavy upon me. Not before +in many years had I felt such a depression of the spirits. + +It was all so different from the things I love! Not so much as a spear +of grass or a leafy tree to comfort the eye, or a bird to sing; no quiet +hills, no sight of the sun coming up in the morning over dewy fields, no +sound of cattle in the lane, no cheerful cackling of fowls, nor buzzing +of bees! That morning, I remember, when I first went out into those +squalid streets and saw everywhere the evidences of poverty, dirt, and +ignorance--and the sweet, clean country not two miles away--the thought +of my own home among the hills (with Harriet there in the doorway) came +upon me with incredible longing. + +"I must go home; I must go home!" I caught myself saying aloud. + +I remember how glad I was when I found that my friend Bill Hahn and +other leaders of the strike were to be engaged in conferences during +the forenoon, for I wanted to be alone, to try to get a few things +straightened out in my mind. + +But I soon found that a city is a poor place for reflection or +contemplation. It bombards one with an infinite variety of new +impressions and new adventures; and I could not escape the impression +made by crowded houses, and ill-smelling streets, and dirty sidewalks, +and swarming human beings. For a time the burden of these things rested +upon my breast like a leaden weight; they all seemed so utterly wrong to +me, so unnecessary; so unjust! I sometimes think of religion as only a +high sense of good order; and it seemed to me that morning as though +the very existence of this disorderly mill district was a challenge to +religion, and an offence to the Orderer of an Orderly Universe. I don't +now how such conditions may affect other people, but for a time I felt a +sharp sense of impatience--yes, anger--with it all. I had an impulse to +take off my coat then and there and go at the job of setting things to +rights. Oh, I never was more serious in my life: I was quite prepared +to change the entire scheme of things to my way of thinking whether +the people who lived there liked it or not. It seemed to me for a few +glorious moments that I had only to tell them of the wonders in our +country, the pleasant, quiet roads, the comfortable farmhouses, the +fertile fields, and the wooded hills--and, poof! all this crowded +poverty would dissolve and disappear, and they would all come to the +country and be as happy as I was. + +I remember how, once in my life, I wasted untold energy trying to make +over my dearest friends. There was Harriet, for example, dear, serious, +practical Harriet. I used to be fretted by the way she was forever +trying to clip my wing feathers--I suppose to keep me close to the quiet +and friendly and unadventurous roost! We come by such a long, long road, +sometimes, to the acceptance of our nearest friends for exactly what +they are. Because we are so fond of them we try to make them over to +suit some curious ideal of perfection of our own--until one day we +suddenly laugh aloud at our own absurdity (knowing that they are +probably trying as hard to reconstruct us as we are to reconstruct them) +and thereafter we try no more to change them, we just love 'em and enjoy +'em! + +Some such psychological process went on in my consciousness that +morning. As I walked briskly through the streets I began to look out +more broadly around me. It was really a perfect spring morning, the air +crisp, fresh, and sunny, and the streets full of life and activity. I +looked into the faces of the people I met, and it began to strike me +that most of them seemed oblivious of the fact that they should, by +good rights, be looking downcast and dispirited. They had cheered their +approval the night before when the speakers had told them how miserable +they were (even acknowledging that they were slaves), and yet here they +were this morning looking positively good-humoured, cheerful, some of +them even gay. I warrant if I had stepped up to one of them that morning +and intimated that he was a slave he would have--well, I should have +had serious trouble with him! There was a degree of sociability in those +back streets, a visiting from window to window, gossipy gatherings in +front area-ways, a sort of pavement domesticity, that I had never +seen before. Being a lover myself of such friendly intercourse I could +actually feel the hum and warmth of that neighbourhood. + +A group of brightly clad girl strikers gathered on a corner were +chatting and laughing, and children in plenty ran and shouted at their +play in the street. I saw a group of them dancing merrily around an +Italian hand-organ man who was filling the air with jolly music. I +recall what a sinking sensation I had at the pit of my reformer's +stomach when it suddenly occurred to me that these people some of them, +anyway, might actually LIKE this crowded, sociable neighbourhood! "They +might even HATE the country," I exclaimed. + +It is surely one of the fundamental humours of life to see absurdly +serious little human beings (like D. G. for example) trying to stand +in the place of the Almighty. We are so confoundedly infallible in our +judgments, so sure of what is good for our neighbour, so eager to force +upon him our particular doctors or our particular remedies; we are so +willing to put our childish fingers into the machinery of creation--and +we howl so lustily when we get them pinched! + +"Why!" I exclaimed, for it came to me like a new discovery, "it's +exactly the same here as it is in the country! I haven't got to make +over the universe: I've only got to do my own small job, and to look up +often at the trees and the hills and the sky and be friendly with all +men." + +I cannot express the sense of comfort, and of trust, which this +reflection brought me. I recall stopping just then at the corner of a +small green city square, for I had now reached the better part of the +city, and of seeing with keen pleasure the green of the grass and the +bright colour of a bed of flowers, and two or three clean nursemaids +with clean baby cabs, and a flock of pigeons pluming themselves near a +stone fountain, and an old tired horse sleeping in the sun with his nose +buried in a feed bag. + +"Why," I said, "all this, too, is beautiful!" So I continued my walk +with quite a new feeling in my heart, prepared again for any adventure +life might have to offer me. + +I supposed I knew no living soul in Kilburn but Bill the Socialist. What +was my astonishment and pleasure, then in one of the business streets +to discover a familiar face and figure. A man was just stepping from an +automobile to the sidewalk. For an instant; in that unusual environment, +I could not place him, then I stepped up quickly and said: + +"Well, well, Friend Vedder." + +He looked around with astonishment at the man in the shabby clothes--but +it was only for an instant. + +"David Grayson!" he exclaimed, "and how did YOU get into the city?" + +"Walked," I said. + +"But I thought you were an incurable and irreproachable countryman! Why +are you here?" + +"Love o' life," I said; "love o' life." + +"Where are you stopping?" I waved my hand. + +"Where the road leaves me," I said. "Last night I left my bag with some +good friends I made in front of a livery stable and I spent the night in +the mill district with a Socialist named Bill Hahn." + +"Bill Hahn!" The effect upon Mr. Vedder was magical. + +"Why, yes," I said, "and a remarkable man he is, too." + +I discovered immediately that my friend was quite as much interested in +the strike as Bill Hahn, but on the other side. He was, indeed, one of +the directors of the greatest mill in Kilburn--the very one which I had +seen the night before surrounded by armed sentinels. It was thrilling to +me, this knowledge, for it seemed to plump me down at once in the middle +of things--and soon, indeed, brought me nearer to the brink of great +events than ever I was before in all my days. + +I could see that Mr. Vedder considered Bill Hahn as a sort of devouring +monster, a wholly incendiary and dangerous person. So terrible, indeed, +was the warning he gave me (considering me, I suppose an unsophisticated +person) that I couldn't help laughing outright. + +"I assure you--" he began, apparently much offended. + +But I interrupted him. + +"I'm sorry I laughed," I said, "but as you were talking about Bill Hahn, +I couldn't help thinking of him as I first saw him." And I gave Mr. +Vedder as lively a description as I could of the little man with his +bulging coat tails, his furry ears, his odd round spectacles. He was +greatly interested in what I said and began to ask many questions. I +told him with all the earnestness I could command of Bill's history and +of his conversion to his present beliefs. I found that Mr. Vedder had +known Robert Winter very well indeed, and was amazed at the incident +which I narrated of Bill Hahn's attempt upon his life. + +I have always believed that if men could be made to understand one +another they would necessarily be friendly, so I did my best to explain +Bill Hahn to Mr. Vedder. + +"I'm tremendously interested in what you say," he said, "and we must +have more talk about it." + +He told me that he had now to put in an appearance at his office, and +wanted me to go with him; but upon my objection he pressed me to take +luncheon with him a little later, an invitation which I accepted with +real pleasure. + +"We haven't had a word about gardens," he said, "and there are no end +of things that Mrs. Vedder and I found that we wanted to talk with you +about after you had left us." + +"Well!" I said, much delighted, "let's have a regular old-fashioned +country talk." + +So we parted for the time being, and I set off in the highest spirits to +see something more of Kilburn. + +A city, after all, is a very wonderful place. One thing, I recall, +impressed me powerfully that morning--the way in which every one was +working, apparently without any common agreement or any common purpose, +and yet with a high sort of understanding. The first hearing of a +difficult piece of music (to an uncultivated ear like mine) often yields +nothing but a confused sense of unrelated motives, but later and deeper +hearings reveal the harmony which ran so clear in the master's soul. + +Something of this sort happened to me in looking out upon the life of +that great city of Kilburn. All about on the streets, in the buildings, +under ground and above ground, men were walking, running, creeping, +crawling, climbing, lifting, digging, driving, buying, selling, +sweating, swearing, praying, loving, hating, struggling, failing, +sinning, repenting--all working and living according to a vast harmony, +which sometimes we can catch clearly and sometimes miss entirely. I +think, that morning, for a time, I heard the true music of the spheres, +the stars singing together. + +Mr. Vedder took me to a quiet restaurant where we had a snug alcove all +to ourselves. I shall remember it always as one of the truly pleasant +experiences of my pilgrimage. + +I could see that my friend was sorely troubled, that the strike rested +heavy upon him, and so I led the conversation to the hills and the +roads and the fields we both love so much. I plied him with a thousand +questions about his garden. I told him in the liveliest way of my +adventures after leaving his home, how I had telephoned him from the +hills, how I had taken a swim in the mill-pond, and especially how I had +lost myself in the old cowpasture, with an account of all my absurd and +laughable adventures and emotions. + +Well, before we had finished our luncheon I had every line ironed from +the brow of that poor plagued rich man, I had brought jolly crinkles to +the corners of his eyes, and once or twice I had him chuckling down deep +inside (Where chuckles are truly effective). Talk about cheering up the +poor: I think the rich are usually far more in need of it! + +But I couldn't keep the conversation in these delightful channels. +Evidently the strike and all that it meant lay heavy upon Mr. Vedder's +consciousness, for he pushed back his coffee and began talking about it, +almost in a tone of apology. He told me how kind he had tried to make +the mill management in its dealings with its men. + +"I would not speak of it save in explanation of our true attitude of +helpfulness; but we have really given our men many advantages"--and he +told me of the reading-room the company had established, of the visiting +nurse they had employed, and of several other excellent enterprises, +which gave only another proof of what I knew already of Mr. Vedder's +sincere kindness of heart. + +"But," he said, "we find they don't appreciate what we try to do for +them." + +I laughed outright. + +"Why," I exclaimed, "you are having the same trouble I have had!" + +"How's that?" he inquired, I thought a little sharply. Men don't like to +have their seriousness trifled with. + +"No longer ago than this morning," I said, "I had exactly that idea of +giving them advantages; but I found that the difficulty lies not with +the ability to give, but with the inability or unwillingness to take. +You see I have a great deal of surplus wealth myself--" + +Mr. Vedder's eyes flickered up at me. + +"Yes," I said. "I've got immense accumulations of the wealth of the +ages--ingots of Emerson and Whitman, for example, gems of Voltaire, and +I can't tell what other superfluous coinage!" (And I waved my hand in +the most grandiloquent manner.) "I've also quite a store of knowledge +of corn and calves and cucumbers, and I've a boundless domain of +exceedingly valuable landscapes. I am prepared to give bountifully of +all these varied riches (for I shall still have plenty remaining), but +the fact is that this generation of vipers doesn't appreciate what I am +trying to do for them. I'm really getting frightened, lest they permit +me to perish from undistributed riches!" + +Mr. Vedder was still smiling. + +"Oh," I said, warming up to my idea, "I'm a regular multimillionaire. +I've got so much wealth that I'm afraid I shall not be as fortunate as +jolly Andy Carnegie, for I don't see how I can possibly die poor!" + +"Why not found a university or so?" asked Mr. Vedder. + +"Well, I had thought of that. It's a good idea. Let's join our forces +and establish a university where truly serious people can take courses +in laughter." + +"Fine idea!" exclaimed Mr. Vedder; "but wouldn't it require an enormous +endowment to accommodate all the applicants? You must remember that this +is a very benighted and illiterate world, laughingly speaking." + +"It is, indeed," I said, "but you must remember that many people, for a +long time, will be too serious to apply. I wonder sometimes if any one +ever learns to laugh really laugh much before he is forty." + +"But," said Mr. Vedder anxiously, "do you think such an institution +would be accepted by the proletariat of the serious-minded?" + +"Ah, that's the trouble," said I, "that's the trouble. The proletariat +doesn't appreciate what we are trying to do for them! They don't +want your reading-rooms nor my Emerson and cucumbers. The seat of the +difficulty seems to be that what seems wealth to us isn't necessarily +wealth for the other fellow." + +I cannot tell with what delight we fenced our way through this foolery +(which was not all foolery, either). I never met a man more quickly +responsive than Mr. Vedder. But he now paused for some moments, +evidently ruminating. + +"Well, David," he said seriously, "what are we going to do about this +obstreperous other fellow?" + +"Why not try the experiment," I suggested, "of giving him what he +considers wealth, instead of what you consider wealth?" + +"But what does he consider wealth?" + +"Equality," said I. + +Mr. Vedder threw up his hands. + +"So you're a Socialist, too!" + +"That," I said, "is another story." + +"Well, supposing we did or could give him this equality you speak +of--what would become of us? What would we get out of it?" + +"Why, equality, too!" I said. + +Mr. Vedder threw up his hands up with a gesture of mock resignation. + +"Come," said he, "let's get down out of Utopia!" + +We had some further good-humoured fencing and then returned to the +inevitable problem of the strike. While we were discussing the meeting +of the night before which, I learned, had been luridly reported in the +morning papers, Mr. Vedder suddenly turned to me and asked earnestly: + +"Are you really a Socialist?" + +"Well," said I, "I'm sure of one thing. I'm not ALL Socialist, Bill Hahn +believes with his whole soul (and his faith has made him a remarkable +man) that if only another class of people--his class--could come into +the control of material property, that all the ills that man is heir +to would be speedily cured. But I wonder if when men own property +collectively--as they are going to one of these days--they will quarrel +and hate one another any less than they do now. It is not the ownership +of material property that interests me so much as the independence of +it. When I started out from my farm on this pilgrimage it seemed to +me the most blessed thing in the world to get away from property and +possession." + +"What are you then, anyway?" asked Mr. Vedder, smiling. + +"Well, I've thought of a name I would like to have applied to me +sometimes," I said. "You see I'm tremendously fond of this world exactly +as it is now. Mr. Vedder, it's a wonderful and beautiful place! I've +never seen a better one. I confess I could not possibly live in the +rarefied atmosphere of a final solution. I want to live right here and +now for all I'm worth. The other day a man asked me what I thought was +the best time of life. 'Why,' I answered without a thought, 'Now.' It +has always seemed to me that if a man can't make a go of it, yes, and be +happy at this moment, he can't be at the next moment. But most of +all, it seems to me, I want to get close to people, to look into their +hearts, and be friendly with them. Mr. Vedder, do you know what I'd like +to be called?" + +"I cannot imagine," said he. + +"Well, I'd like to be called an Introducer. My friend, Mr. Blacksmith, +let me introduce you to my friend, Mr. Plutocrat. I could almost swear +that you were brothers, so near alike are you! You'll find each other +wonderfully interesting once you get over the awkwardness of the +introduction. And Mr. White Man, let me present you particularly to my +good friend, Mr. Negro. You will see if you sit down to it that this +colour of the face is only skin deep." + +"It's a good name!" said Mr. Vedder, laughing. + +"It's a wonderful name," said I, "and it's about the biggest and finest +work in the world--to know human beings just as they are, and to +make them acquainted with one another just as they are. Why, it's the +foundation of all the democracy there is, or ever will be. Sometimes I +think that friendliness is the only achievement of life worth while--and +unfriendliness the only tragedy." + +I have since felt ashamed of myself when I thought how I lectured my +unprotected host that day at luncheon; but it seemed to boil out of me +irresistibly. The experiences of the past two days had stirred me to the +very depths, and it seemed to me I must explain to somebody how it all +impressed me--and to whom better than to my good friend Vedder? + +As we were leaving the table an idea flashed across my mind which +seemed, at first, so wonderful that it quite turned me dizzy. + +"See here, Mr. Vedder," I exclaimed, "let me follow my occupation +practically. I know Bill Hahn and I know you. Let me introduce you. +If you could only get together, if you could only understand what +good fellows you both are, it might go far toward solving these +difficulties." + +I had some trouble persuading him, but finally he consented, said he +wanted to leave no stone unturned, and that he would meet Bill Hahn and +some of the other leaders, if proper arrangements could be made. + +I left him, therefore, in excitement, feeling that I was at the point of +playing a part in a very great event. "Once get these men together," I +thought, "and they MUST come to an understanding." + +So I rushed out to the mill district, saying to myself over and over (I +have smiled about it since!): "We'll settle this strike: we'll settle +this strike: we'll settle this strike." After some searching I found +my friend Bill in the little room over a saloon that served as strike +headquarters. A dozen or more of the leaders were there, faintly +distinguishable through clouds of tobacco smoke. Among them sat the +great R---- D----, his burly figure looming up at one end of the table, +and his strong, rough, iron-jawed face turning first toward this speaker +and then toward that. The discussion, which had evidently been lively, +died down soon after I appeared at the door, and Bill Hahn came out to +me and we sat down together in the adjoining room. Here I broke eagerly +into an account of the happenings of the day, described my chance +meeting with Mr. Vedder--who was well known to Bill by reputation--and +finally asked him squarely whether he would meet him. I think my +enthusiasm quite carried him away. + +"Sure, I will," said Bill Hahn heartily. + +"When and where?" I asked, "and will any of the other men join you?" + +Bill was all enthusiasm at once, for that was the essence of his +temperament, but he said that he must first refer it to the committee. +I waited, in a tense state of impatience, for what seemed to me a very +long time; but finally the door opened and Bill Hahn came out bringing +R---- D---- himself with him. We all sat down together, and R---- D---- +began to ask questions (he was evidently suspicious as to who and what +I was); but I think, after I talked with them for some time that I made +them see the possibilities and the importance of such a meeting. I was +greatly impressed with R---- D----, the calmness and steadiness of the +man, his evident shrewdness. "A real general," I said to myself. "I +should like to know him better." + +After a long talk they returned to the other room, closing the door +behind them, and I waited again, still more impatiently. + +It seems rather absurd now, but at that moment I felt firmly convinced +that I was on the way to the permanent settlement of a struggle which +had occupied the best brains of Kilburn for many weeks. + +While I was waiting in that dingy ante-room, the other door slowly +opened and a boy stuck his head in. + +"Is David Grayson here?" he asked. + +"Here he is," said I, greatly astonished that any one in Kilburn should +be inquiring for me, or should know where I was. + +The boy came in, looked at me with jolly round eyes for a moment, and +dug a letter out of his pocket. I opened it at once, and glancing at the +signature discovered that it was from Mr. Vedder. + +"He said I'd probably find you at strike headquarters," remarked the +boy. + +This was the letter: marked "Confidential." + +My Dear Grayson: I think you must be something of a hypnotist. After you +left me I began to think of the project you mentioned, and I have talked +it over with one or two of my associates. I would gladly hold this +conference, but it does not now seem wise for us to do so. The interests +we represent are too important to be jeopardized. In theory you are +undoubtedly right, but in this case I think you will agree with me (when +you think it over), we must not show any weakness. Come and stop with +us to-night: Mrs. Vedder will be overjoyed to see you and we'll have +another fine talk. + +I confess I was a good deal cast down as I read this letter. + +"What interests are so important?" I asked myself, "that they should +keep friends apart?" + +But I was given only a moment for reflection for the door opened and my +friend Bill, together with R---- D---- and several other members of the +committee, came out. I put the letter in my pocket, and for a moment my +brain never worked under higher pressure. What should I say to them now? +How could I explain myself? + +Bill Hahn was evidently labouring under considerable excitement, but +R---- D---- was as calm as a judge. He sat down in the chair opposite +and said to me: + +"We've been figuring out this proposition of Mr. Vedder's. Your idea is +all right, and it would be a fine thing if we could really get together +as you suggest upon terms of common understanding and friendship." + +"Just what Mr. Vedder said," I exclaimed. + +"Yes," he continued, "it's all right in theory; but in this case it +simply won't work. Don't you see it's got to be war? Your friend and I +could probably understand each other--but this is a class war. It's all +or nothing with us, and your friend Vedder knows it as well as we do." + +After some further argument and explanation, I said: + +"I see: and this is Socialism." + +"Yes," said the great R---- D----, "this is Socialism." + +"And it's force you would use," I said. + +"It's force THEY use," he replied. + +After I left the strike headquarters that evening--for it was almost +dark before I parted with the committee--I walked straight out through +the crowded streets, so absorbed in my thoughts that I did not know +in the least where I was going. The street lights came out, the crowds +began to thin away, I heard a strident song from a phonograph at the +entrance to a picture show, and as I passed again in front of the great, +dark, many-windowed mill which had made my friend Vedder a rich man I +saw a sentinel turn slowly at the corner. The light glinted on the steel +of his bayonet. He had a fresh, fine, boyish face. + +"We have some distance yet to go in this world," I said to myself, "no +man need repine for lack of good work ahead." + +It was only a little way beyond this mill that an incident occurred +which occupied probably not ten minutes of time, and yet I have thought +about it since I came home as much as I have thought about any other +incident of my pilgrimage. I have thought how I might have acted +differently under the circumstances, how I could have said this or how I +ought to have done that--all, of course, now to no purpose whatever. But +I shall not attempt to tell what I ought to have done or said, but what +I actually did do and say on the spur of the moment. + +It was in a narrow, dark street which opened off the brightly lighted +main thoroughfare of that mill neighbourhood. A girl standing in the +shadows between two buildings said to me as I passed: + +"Good evening." + +I stopped instantly, it was such a pleasant, friendly voice. + +"Good evening," I said, lifting my hat and wondering that there should +be any one here in this back street who knew me. + +"Where are you going?" she asked. + +I stepped over quickly toward her, hat in hand. She was a mere slip of +a girl, rather comely, I thought, with small childish features and a +half-timid, half-bold look in her eyes. I could not remember having seen +her before. + +She smiled at me--and then I knew! + +Well, if some one had struck me a brutal blow in the face I could not +have been more astonished. + +We know of things!--and yet how little we know until they are presented +to us in concrete form. Just such a little school girl as I have seen a +thousand times in the country, the pathetic childish curve of the chin, +a small rebellious curl hanging low on her temple. + +I could not say a word. The girl evidently saw in my face that something +was the matter, for she turned and began to move quickly away. Such +a wave of compassion (and anger, too) swept over me as I cannot well +describe. I stepped after her and asked in a low voice: + +"Do you work in the mills?" + +"Yes, when there's work." + +"What is your name?" + +"Maggie--" + +"Well, Maggie," I said, "let's be friends." + +She looked around at me curiously, questioningly. + +"And friends," I said, "should know something about each other. You see +I am a farmer from the country. I used to live in a city myself, a good +many years ago, but I got tired and sick and hopeless. There was so much +that was wrong about it. I tried to keep the pace and could not. I wish +I could tell you what the country has done for me." + +We were walking along slowly, side by side, the girl perfectly passive +but glancing around at me from time to time with a wondering look. +I don't know in the least now what prompted me to do it, but I began +telling in a quiet, low voice--for, after all, she was only a child--I +began telling her about our chickens at the farm and how Harriet had +named them all, and one was Frances E. Willard, and one, a speckled one, +was Martha Washington, and I told her of the curious antics of Martha +Washington and of the number of eggs she laid, and of the sweet new milk +we had to drink, and the honey right out of our own hives, and of the +things growing in the garden. + +Once she smiled a little, and once she looked around at me with a +curious, timid, half-wistful expression in her eyes. + +"Maggie," I said, "I wish you could go to the country." + +"I wish to God I could," she replied. + +We walked for a moment in silence. My head was whirling with thoughts: +again I had that feeling of helplessness, of inadequacy, which I had +felt so sharply on the previous evening. What could I do? + +When we reached the corner, I said: + +"Maggie, I will see you safely home." + +She laughed--a hard, bitter laugh. + +"Oh, I don't need any one to show me around these streets!" + +"I will see you home," I said. + +So we walked quickly along the street together. + +"Here it is," she said finally, pointing to a dark, mean-looking, +one-story house, set in a dingy, barren areaway. + +"Well, good night, Maggie," I said, "and good luck to you." + +"Good night," she said faintly. + +When I had walked to the corner, I stopped and looked back. She was +standing stock-still just where I had left her--a figure I shall never +forget. + + +I have hesitated about telling of a further strange thing that happened +to me that night--but have decided at last to put it in. I did not +accept Mr. Vedder's invitation: I could not; but I returned to the room +in the tenement where I had spent the previous night with Bill Hahn the +Socialist. It was a small, dark, noisy room, but I was so weary that +I fell almost immediately into a heavy sleep. An hour or more later I +don't know how long indeed--I was suddenly awakened and found myself +sitting bolt upright in bed. It was close and dark and warm there in +the room, and from without came the muffled sounds of the city. For an +instant I waited, rigid with expectancy. And then I heard as clearly and +plainly as ever I heard anything: + +"David! David!" in my sister Harriet's voice. + +It was exactly the voice in which she has called me a thousand times. +Without an instant's hesitation, I stepped out of bed and called out: + +"I'm coming, Harriet! I'm coming!" + +"What's the matter?" inquired Bill Hahn sleepily. + +"Nothing," I replied, and crept back into bed. + +It may have been the result of the strain and excitement of the previous +two days. I don't explain it--I can only tell what happened. + +Before I went to sleep again I determined to start straight for home in +the morning: and having decided, I turned over, drew a long, comfortable +breath and did not stir again, I think, until long after the morning sun +shone in at the window. + + + +CHAPTER XII. THE RETURN + +"Everything divine runs with light feet." + +Surely the chief delight of going away from home is the joy of getting +back again. I shall never forget that spring morning when I walked from +the city of Kilburn into the open country, my bag on my back, a song in +my throat, and the gray road stretching straight before me. I remember +how eagerly I looked out across the fields and meadows and rested my +eyes upon the distant hills. How roomy it all was! I looked up into the +clear blue of the sky. There was space here to breathe, and distances in +which the spirit might spread its wings. As the old prophet says, it was +a place where a man might be placed alone in the midst of the earth. + +I was strangely glad that morning of every little stream that ran under +the bridges, I was glad of the trees I passed, glad of every bird and +squirrel in the branches, glad of the cattle grazing in the fields, glad +of the jolly boys I saw on their way to school with their dinner pails, +glad of the bluff, red-faced teamster I met, and of the snug farmer who +waved his hand at me and wished me a friendly good morning. It seemed to +me that I liked every one I saw, and that every one liked me. + +So I walked onward that morning, nor ever have had such a sense of +relief and escape, nor ever such a feeling of gayety. + +"Here is where I belong," I said. "This is my own country. Those hills +are mine, and all the fields, and the trees and the sky--and the road +here belongs to me as much as it does to any one." + +Coming presently to a small house near the side of the road, I saw a +woman working with a trowel in her sunny garden. It was good to see her +turn over the warm brown soil; it was good to see the plump green rows +of lettuce and the thin green rows of onions, and the nasturtiums and +sweet peas; it was good--after so many days in that desert of a city--to +get a whiff of blossoming things. I stood for a moment looking quietly +over the fence before the woman saw me. When at last she turned and +looked up, I said: + +"Good morning." + +She paused, trowel in hand. + +"Good morning," she replied; "you look happy." + +I wasn't conscious that I was smiling outwardly. + +"Well, I am," I said; "I'm going home." + +"Then you OUGHT to be happy," said she. + +"And I'm glad to escape THAT," and I pointed toward the city. + +"What?" + +"Why, that old monster lying there in the valley." + +I could see that she was surprised and even a little alarmed. So I began +intently to admire her young cabbages and comment on the perfection of +her geraniums. But I caught her eying me from time to time as I leaned +there on the fence, and I knew that she would come back sooner or later +to my remark about the monster. Having shocked your friend (not too +unpleasantly), abide your time, and he will want to be shocked again. So +I was not at all surprised to hear her ask: + +"Have you travelled far?" + +"I should say so!" I replied. "I've been on a very long journey. I've +seen many strange sights and met many wonderful people." + +"You may have been in California, then. I have a daughter in +California." + +"No," said I, "I was never in California." + +"You've been a long time from home, you say?" + +"A very long time from home." + +"How long?" + +"Three weeks." + +"Three weeks! And how far did you say you had travelled?" + +"At the farthest point, I should say sixty miles from home." + +"But how can you say that in travelling only sixty miles and being gone +three weeks that you have seen so many strange places and people?" + +"Why," I exclaimed, "haven't you seen anything strange around here?'" + +"Why, no--" glancing quickly around her. + +"Well, I'm strange, am I not?" + +"Well--" + +"And you're strange." + +She looked at me with the utmost amazement. I could scarcely keep from +laughing. + +"I assure you," I said, "that if you travel a thousand miles you will +find no one stranger than I am--or you are--nor anything more wonderful +than all this--" and I waved my hand. + +This time she looked really alarmed, glancing quickly toward the house, +so that I began to laugh. + +"Madam," I said, "good morning!" + +So I left her standing there by the fence looking after me, and I went +on down the road. + +"Well," I said, "she'll have something new to talk about. It may add a +month to her life. Was there ever such an amusing world!" + +About noon that day I had an adventure that I have to laugh over every +time I think of it. It was unusual, too, as being almost the only +incident of my journey which was of itself in the least thrilling or out +of the ordinary. Why, this might have made an item in the country paper! + +For the first time on my trip I saw a man that I really felt like +calling a tramp--a tramp in the generally accepted sense of the term. +When I left home I imagined I should meet many tramps, and perhaps learn +from them odd and curious things about life; but when I actually came +into contact with the shabby men of the road, I began to be puzzled. +What was a tramp, anyway? + +I found them all strangely different, each with his own distinctive +history, and each accounting for himself as logically as I could for +myself. And save for the fact that in none of them I met were the +outward graces and virtues too prominently displayed, I have come back +quite uncertain as to what a scientist might call type-characteristics. +I had thought of following Emerson in his delightfully optimistic +definition of a weed. A weed, he says, is a plant whose virtues have +not been discovered. A tramp, then, is a man whose virtues have not been +discovered. Or, I might follow my old friend the Professor (who dearly +loves all growing things) in his even kindlier definition of a weed. +He says that it is merely a plant misplaced. The virility of this +definition has often impressed me when I have tried to grub the +excellent and useful horseradish plants out of my asparagus bed! Let +it be then--a tramp is a misplaced man, whose virtues have not been +discovered. + +Whether this is an adequate definition or not, it fitted admirably the +man I overtook that morning on the road. He was certainly misplaced, and +during my brief but exciting experience with him I discovered no virtues +whatever. + +In one way he was quite different from the traditional tramp. He walked +with far too lively a step, too jauntily, and he had with him a small, +shaggy, nondescript dog, a dog as shabby as he, trotting close at his +heels. He carried a light stick, which he occasionally twirled over in +his hand. As I drew nearer I could hear him whistling and even, from +time to time, breaking into a lively bit of song. What a devil-may-care +chap he seemed, anyway! I was greatly interested. + +When at length I drew alongside he did not seem in the least surprised. +He turned, glanced at me with his bold black eyes, and broke out again +into the song he was singing. And these were the words of his song--at +least, all I can remember of them: + + Oh, I'm so fine and gay, + I'm so fine and gay, + I have to take a dog along, + To kape the ga-irls away. + +What droll zest he put into it! He had a red nose, a globular red nose +set on his face like an overgrown strawberry, and from under the worst +derby hat in the world burst his thick curly hair. + +"Oh, I'm so fine and gay," he sang, stepping to the rhythm of his song, +and looking the very image of good-humoured impudence. I can't tell how +amused and pleased I was--though if I had known what was to happen later +I might not have been quite so friendly--yes, I would too! + +We fell into conversation, and it wasn't long before I suggested that +we stop for luncheon together somewhere along the road. He cast a quick +appraising eye at my bag, and assented with alacrity. We climbed a fence +and found a quiet spot near a little brook. + +I was much astonished to observe the resources of my jovial companion. +Although he carried neither bag nor pack and appeared to have +nothing whatever in his pockets, he proceeded, like a professional +prestidigitator, to produce from his shabby clothing an extraordinary +number of curious things--a black tin can with a wire handle, a small +box of matches, a soiled package which I soon learned contained tea, +a miraculously big dry sausage wrapped in an old newspaper, and a +clasp-knife. I watched him with breathless interest. + +He cut a couple of crotched sticks to hang the pail on and in two or +three minutes had a little fire, no larger than a man's hand, burning +brightly under it. ("Big fires," said he wisely, "are not for us.") This +he fed with dry twigs, and in a very few minutes he had a pot of tea +from which he offered me the first drink. This, with my luncheon and +part of his sausage, made up a very good meal. + +While we were eating, the little dog sat sedately by the fire. From time +to time his master would say, "Speak, Jimmy." + +Jimmy would sit up on his haunches, his two front paws hanging limp, +turn his head to one side in the drollest way imaginable and give a +yelp. His master would toss him a bit of sausage or bread and he would +catch it with a snap. + +"Fine dog!" commented my companion. + +"So he seems," said I. + +After the meal was over my companion proceeded to produce other +surprises from his pockets--a bag of tobacco, a brier pipe (which he +kindly offered to me and which I kindly refused), and a soiled packet of +cigarette papers. Having rolled a cigarette with practised facility, he +leaned up against a tree, took off his hat, lighted the cigarette +and, having taken a long draw at it, blew the smoke before him with an +incredible air of satisfaction. + +"Solid comfort this here--hey!" he exclaimed. + +We had some further talk, but for so jovial a specimen he was +surprisingly uncommunicative. Indeed, I think he soon decided that I +somehow did not belong to the fraternity, that I was a "farmer"--in the +most opprobrious sense--and he soon began to drowse, rousing himself +once or twice to roll another cigarette, but finally dropping +(apparently, at least) fast asleep. + +I was glad enough of the rest and quiet after the strenuous experience +of the last two days--and I, too, soon began to drowse. It didn't seem +to me then that I lost consciousness at all, but I suppose I must have +done so, for when I suddenly opened my eyes and sat up my companion +had vanished. How he succeeded in gathering up his pail and packages so +noiselessly and getting away so quickly is a mystery to me. + +"Well," I said, "that's odd." + +Rousing myself deliberately I put on my hat and was about to take up +my bag when I suddenly discovered that it was open. My rain-cape was +missing! It wasn't a very good rain-cape, but it was missing. + +At first I was inclined to be angry, but when I thought of my jovial +companion and the cunning way in which he had tricked me, I couldn't +help laughing. At the same time I jumped up quickly and ran down the +road. + +"I may get him yet," I said. + +Just as I stepped out of the woods I caught a glimpse of a man some +hundreds of yards away, turning quickly from the main road into a lane +or by-path. I wasn't altogether sure that he was my man, but I ran +across the road and climbed the fence. I had formed the plan instantly +of cutting across the field and so striking the by-road farther up the +hill. I had a curious sense of amused exultation, the very spirit of the +chase, and my mind dwelt with the liveliest excitement on what I should +say or do if I really caught that jolly spark of impudence. + +So I came by way of a thicket along an old stone fence to the by-road, +and there, sure enough, only a little way ahead of me, was my man with +the shaggy little dog close at his heels. He was making pretty good +time, but I skirted swiftly along the edge of the road until I had +nearly overtaken him. Then I slowed down to a walk and stepped out into +the middle of the road. I confess my heart was pounding at a lively +rate. The next time he looked behind him--guiltily enough, too!--I said +in the calmest voice I could command: + +"Well, brother, you almost left me behind." + +He stopped and I stepped up to him. + +I wish I could describe the look in his face--mingled astonishment, +fear, and defiance. + +"My friend," I said, "I'm disappointed in you." + +He made no reply. + +"Yes, I'm disappointed. You did such a very poor job." + +"Poor job!" he exclaimed. + +"Yes," I said, and I slipped my bag off my shoulder and began to rummage +inside. My companion watched me silently and suspiciously. + +"You should not have left the rubbers." + +With that I handed him my old rubbers. A peculiar expression came into +the man's face. + +"Say, pardner, what you drivin' at?" + +"Well," I said, "I don't like to see such evidences of haste and +inefficiency." + +He stood staring at me helplessly, holding my old rubbers at arm's +length. + +"Come on now," I said, "that's over. We'll walk along together." + +I was about to take his arm, but quick as a flash he dodged, cast both +rubbers and rain-cape away from him, and ran down the road for all he +was worth, the little dog, looking exactly like a rolling ball of fur, +pelting after him. He never once glanced back, but ran for his life. I +stood there and laughed until the tears came, and ever since then, at +the thought of the expression on the jolly rover's face when I gave him +my rubbers, I've had to smile. I put the rain-cape and rubbers back into +my bag and turned again to the road. + + +Before the afternoon was nearly spent I found myself very tired, for +my two days' experience in the city had been more exhausting for me, I +think, than a whole month of hard labour on my farm. I found haven with +a friendly farmer, whom I joined while he was driving his cows in from +the pasture. I helped him with his milking both that night and the next +morning, and found his situation and family most interesting--but I +shall not here enlarge upon that experience. + +It was late afternoon when I finally surmounted the hill from which +I knew well enough I could catch the first glimpse of my farm. For +a moment after I reached the top I could not raise my eyes, and when +finally I was able to raise them I could not see. + +"There is a spot in Arcady--a spot in Arcady--a spot in Arcady--" So +runs the old song. + +There IS a spot in Arcady, and at the centre of it there is a +weather-worn old house, and not far away a perfect oak tree, and green +fields all about, and a pleasant stream fringed with alders in the +little valley. And out of the chimney into the sweet, still evening air +rises the slow white smoke of the supper-fire. + +I turned from the main road, and climbed the fence and walked across +my upper field to the old wood lane. The air was heavy and sweet with +clover blossoms, and along the fences I could see that the raspberry +bushes were ripening their fruit. + +So I came down the lane and heard the comfortable grunting of pigs in +the pasture lot and saw the calves licking one another as they stood at +the gate. + +"How they've grown!" I said. + +I stopped at the corner of the barn for a moment. From within I heard +the rattling of milk in a pail (a fine sound), and heard a man's voice +saying: + +"Whoa, there! Stiddy now!" + +"Dick's milking," I said. + +So I stepped in at the doorway. + +"Lord, Mr. Grayson!" exclaimed Dick, rising instantly and clasping my +hand like a long-lost brother. + +"I'm glad to see you!" + +"I'm glad to see YOU!" + +The warm smell of the new milk, the pleasant sound of animals stepping +about in the stable, the old mare reaching her long head over the +stanchion to welcome me, and nipping at my fingers when I rubbed her +nose-- + +And there was the old house with the late sun upon it, the vines hanging +green over the porch, Harriet's trim flower bed--I crept along quietly +to the corner. The kitchen door stood open. + +"Well, Harriet!" I said, stepping inside. + +"Mercy! David!" + +I have rarely known Harriet to be in quite such a reckless mood. She +kept thinking of a new kind of sauce or jam for supper (I think there +were seven, or were there twelve? on the table before I got through). +And there was a new rhubarb pie such as only Harriet can make, just +brown enough on top, and not too brown, with just the right sort of +hills and hummocks in the crust, and here and there little sugary +bubbles where a suggestion of the goodness came through--such a pie--! +and such an appetite to go with it! + +"Harriet," I said, "you're spoiling me. Haven't you heard how dangerous +it is to set such a supper as this before a man who is perishing with +hunger? Have you no mercy for me?" + +This remark produced the most extraordinary effect. Harriet was at that +moment standing in the corner near the pump. Her shoulders suddenly +began to shake convulsively. + +"She's so glad I'm home that she can't help laughing," I thought, which +shows how penetrating I really am. + +She was crying. + +"Why, Harriet!" I exclaimed. + +"Hungry!" she burst out, "and j-joking about it!" + +I couldn't say a single word; something--it must have been a piece of +the rhubarb pie--stuck in my throat. So I sat there and watched her +moving quietly about in that immaculate kitchen. After a time I walked +over to where she stood by the table and put my arm around her quickly. +She half turned her head, in her quick, businesslike way. I noted how +firm and clean and sweet her face was. + +"Harriet," I said, "you grow younger every year." + +No response. + +"Harriet," I said, "I haven't seen a single person anywhere on my +journey that I like as much as I do you." + +The quick blood came up. + +"There--there--David!" she said. + +So I stepped away. + +"And as for rhubarb pie, Harriet--" + +When I first came to my farm years ago there were mornings when I woke +up with the strong impression that I had just been hearing the most +exquisite sounds of music. I don't know whether this is at all a common +experience, but in those days (and farther back in my early boyhood) I +had it frequently. It did not seem exactly like music either, but was +rather a sense of harmony, so wonderful, so pervasive that it cannot +be described. I have not had it so often in recent years, but on the +morning after I reached home it came to me as I awakened with a strange +depth and sweetness. I lay for a moment there in my clean bed. The +morning sun was up and coming in cheerfully through the vines at the +window; a gentle breeze stirred the clean white curtains, and I could +smell even there the odours of the garden. + +I wish I had room to tell, but I cannot, of all the crowded experiences +of that day--the renewal of acquaintance with the fields, the cattle, +the fowls, the bees, of my long talks with Harriet and Dick Sheridan, +who had cared for my work while I was away; of the wonderful visit of +the Scotch Preacher, of Horace's shrewd and whimsical comments upon the +general absurdity of the head of the Grayson family--oh, of a thousand +things--and how when I went into my study and took up the nearest book +in my favourite case--it chanced to be "The Bible in Spain"--it opened +of itself at one of my favourite passages, the one beginning: + +"Mistos amande, I am content--" + + +So it's all over! It has been a great experience; and it seems to me +now that I have a firmer grip on life, and a firmer trust in that Power +which orders the ages. In a book I read not long ago, called "A Modern +Utopia," the writer provides in his imaginary perfect state of society +a class of leaders known as Samurai. And, from time to time, it is the +custom of these Samurai to cut themselves loose from the crowding world +of men, and with packs on their backs go away alone to far places in the +deserts or on Arctic ice caps. I am convinced that every man needs some +such change as this, an opportunity to think things out, to get a new +grip on life, and a new hold on God. But not for me the Arctic ice cap +or the desert! I choose the Friendly Road--and all the common people who +travel in it or live along it--I choose even the busy city at the end of +it. + +I assure you, friend, that it is a wonderful thing for a man to cast +himself freely for a time upon the world, not knowing where his next +meal is coming from, nor where he is going to sleep for the night. It is +a surprising readjuster of values. I paid my way, I think, throughout +my pilgrimage; but I discovered that stamped metal is far from being the +world's only true coin. As a matter of fact, there are many things that +men prize more highly--because they are rarer and more precious. + +My friend, if you should chance yourself some day to follow the Friendly +Road, you may catch a fleeting glimpse of a man in a rusty hat, carrying +a gray bag, and sometimes humming a little song under his breath for the +joy of being there. And it may actually happen, if you stop him, that he +will take a tin whistle from his bag and play for you, "Money Musk," or +"Old Dan Tucker," or he may produce a battered old volume of Montaigne +from which he will read you a passage. If such an adventure should +befall you, know that you have met + +Your friend, + +David Grayson. + +P. S.--Harriet bemoans most of all the unsolved mystery of the sign man. +But it doesn't bother me in the least. I'm glad now I never found him. +The poet sings his song and goes his way. If we sought him out how +horribly disappointed we might be! We might find him shaving, or eating +sausage, or drinking a bottle of beer. We might find him shaggy and +unkempt where we imagined him beautiful, weak where we thought him +strong, dull where we thought him brilliant. Take then the vintage of +his heart and let him go. As for me, I'm glad some mystery is left in +this world. A thousand signs on my roadways are still as unexplainable, +as mysterious, and as beguiling as this. And I can close my narrative +with no better motto for tired spirits than that of the country +roadside: + +[ REST ] + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Friendly Road, by +(AKA David Grayson) Ray Stannard Baker + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FRIENDLY ROAD *** + +***** This file should be named 2479.txt or 2479.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/4/7/2479/ + +Produced by Aaron Cannon + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* + + + + + + + + +THE FRIENDLY ROAD +New Adventures in Contentment + +DAVID GRAYSON (pseud of Ray Stannard Baker) +Author of +"Adventure in Contentment," +"Adventures in Friendship" + +Illustrated by Thomas Fogarty + + +"Surely it is good to be alive at a time like this." + +THE FRIENDLY ROAD + + +Copyright, 1913, by DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY + + +A WORD TO HIM WHO OPENS THIS BOOK + +I did not plan when I began writing these chapters to make an +entire book, but only to put down the more or less unusual +impressions, the events and adventures, of certain quiet +pilgrimages in country roads. But when I had written down all of +these things, I found I had material in plenty. + +"What shall I call it now that I have written it?" I asked +myself. + +At first I thought I should call it "Adventures on the Road," or +"The Country Road," or something equally simple, for I would not +have the title arouse any appetite which the book itself could +not satisfy. One pleasant evening I was sitting on my porch with +my dog sleeping near me, and Harriet not far away rocking and +sewing, and as I looked out across the quiet fields I could see +in the distance a curving bit of the town road. I could see the +valley below it and the green hill beyond, and my mind went out +swiftly along the country road which I had so recently travelled +on foot, and I thought with deep satisfaction of all the people I +had met on my pilgrimages--the Country Minister with his +problems, the buoyant Stanleys, Bill Hahn the Socialist, the +Vedders in their garden, the Brush Peddler. I thought of the +Wonderful City, and of how for a time I had been caught up into +its life. I thought of the men I met at the livery stable, +especially Healy, the wit, and of that strange Girl of the +Street. And it was good to think of them all living around me, +not so very far away, connected with me through darkness and +space by a certain mysterious human cord. Most of all I love that +which I cannot see beyond the hill. + +"Harriet," I said aloud, "it grows more wonderful every year how +full the world is of friendly people!" + +So I got up quickly and came in here to my room, and taking a +fresh sheet of paper I wrote down the title of my new book: + +"The Friendly Road." + +I invite you to travel with me upon this friendly road. You may +find, as I did, something which will cause you for a time, to +forget yourself into contentment. But if you chance to be a truly +serious person, put down my book. Let nothing stay your hurried +steps, nor keep you from your way. + +As for those of us who remain, we will loiter as much as ever we +please. We'll take toll of these spring days, we'll stop wherever +evening overtakes us, we'll eat the food of hospitality--and make +friends for life! + +DAVID GRAYSON. + + + +CONTENTS + +Preface + +I. I Leave My Farm + +II. I Whistle + +III. The House by the Side of the Road + +IV. I Am the Spectator of a Mighty Battle, in which Christian +Meets Apollyon + +V. I Play the Part of a Spectacle Peddler + +VI. An Experiment in Human Nature + +VII. The Undiscovered Country + +VIII. The Hedge + +IX. The Man Possessed + +X. I Am Caught Up Into Life + +XI. I Come to Grapple with the City + +XII. The Return + + + + +CHAPTER I. I LEAVE MY FARM + +"Is it so small a thing +To have enjoyed the sun, +To have lived light in spring?" + +It is eight o'clock of a sunny spring morning. I have been on the +road for almost three hours. At five I left the town of Holt, +before six I had crossed the railroad at a place called Martin's +Landing, and an hour ago, at seven, I could see in the distance +the spires of Nortontown. And all the morning as I came tramping +along the fine country roads with my pack-strap resting warmly on +my shoulder, and a song in my throat--just nameless words to a +nameless tune--and all the birds singing, and all the brooks +bright under their little bridges, I knew that I must soon step +aside and put down, if I could, some faint impression of the +feeling of this time and place. I cannot hope to convey any +adequate sense of it all--of the feeling of lightness, strength, +clearness, I have as I sit here under this maple tree--but I am +going to write as long as ever I am happy at it, and when I am no +longer happy at it, why, here at my very hand lies the pleasant +country road, stretching away toward newer hills and richer +scenes. + +Until to-day I have not really been quite clear in my own mind as +to the step I have taken. My sober friend, have you ever tried to +do anything that the world at large considers not quite sensible, +not quite sane? Try it! It is easier to commit a thundering +crime. A friend of mine delights in walking to town bareheaded, +and I fully believe the neighbourhood is more disquieted thereby +than it would be if my friend came home drunken or failed to pay +his debts. + +Here I am then, a farmer, forty miles from home in planting time, +taking his ease under a maple tree and writing in a little book +held on his knee! Is not that the height of absurdity? Of all my +friends the Scotch Preacher was the only one who seemed to +understand why it was that I must go away for a time. Oh, I am a +sinful and revolutionary person! + +When I left home last week, if you could have had a truthful +picture of me--for is there not a photography so delicate that it +will catch the dim thought-shapes which attend upon our +lives?--if you could have had such a truthful picture of me, you +would have seen, besides a farmer named Grayson with a gray bag +hanging from his shoulder, a strange company following close upon +his steps. Among this crew you would have made out easily: + +Two fine cows. +Four Berkshire pigs. +One team of gray horses, the old mare a little lame in her right +foreleg. +About fifty hens, four cockerels, and a number of ducks and +geese. + +More than this--I shall offer no explanation in these writings of +any miracles that may appear--you would have seen an entirely +respectable old farmhouse bumping and hobbling along as best it +might in the rear. And in the doorway, Harriet Grayson, in her +immaculate white apron, with the veritable look in her eyes which +she wears when I am not comporting myself with quite the proper +decorum. + +Oh, they would not let me go! How they all followed clamoring +after me. My thoughts coursed backward faster than ever I could +run away. If you could have heard that motley crew of the +barnyard as I did-- the hens all cackling, the ducks quacking, +the pigs grunting, and the old mare neighing and stamping, you +would have thought it a miracle that I escaped at all. + +So often we think in a superior and lordly manner of our +possessions, when, as a matter of fact, we do not really possess +them, they possess us. For ten years I have been the humble +servant, attending upon the commonest daily needs of sundry hens, +ducks, geese, pigs, bees, and of a fussy and exacting old gray +mare. And the habit of servitude, I find, has worn deep scars +upon me. I am almost like the life prisoner who finds the door +of his cell suddenly open, and fears to escape. Why, I had almost +become ALL farmer. + +On the first morning after I left home I awoke as usual about +five o'clock with the irresistible feeling that I must do the +milking. So well disciplined had I become in my servitude that I +instinctively thrust my leg out of bed--but pulled it quickly +back in again, turned over, drew a long, luxurious breath, and +said to myself: + +"Avaunt cows! Get thee behind me, swine! Shoo, hens!" + +Instantly the clatter of mastery to which I had responded so +quickly for so many years grew perceptibly fainter, the hens +cackled less domineeringly, the pigs squealed less insistently, +and as for the strutting cockerel, that lordly and despotic bird +stopped fairly in the middle of a crow, and his voice gurgled +away in a spasm of astonishment. As for the old farmhouse, it +grew so dim I could scarcely see it at all! Having thus published +abroad my Declaration of Independence, nailed my defiance to the +door, and otherwise established myself as a free person, I turned +over in my bed and took another delicious nap. + +Do you know, friend, we can be free of many things that dominate +our lives by merely crying out a rebellious "Avaunt!" + +But in spite of this bold beginning, I assure you it required +several days to break the habit of cows and hens. The second +morning I awakened again at five o'clock, but my leg did not make +for the side of the bed; the third morning I was only partially +awakened, and on the fourth morning I slept like a millionaire +(or at least I slept as a millionaire is supposed to sleep!) +until the clock struck seven. + +For some days after I left home--and I walked out as casually +that morning as though I were going to the barn--I scarcely +thought or tried to think of anything but the Road. Such an +unrestrained sense of liberty, such an exaltation of freedom, I +have not known since I was a lad. When I came to my farm from the +city many years ago it was as one bound, as one who had lost out +in the World's battle and was seeking to get hold again somewhere +upon the realities of life. I have related elsewhere how I thus +came creeping like one sore wounded from the field of battle, and +how, among our hills, in the hard, steady labour in the soil of +the fields, with new and simple friends around me, I found a sort +of rebirth or resurrection. I that was worn out, bankrupt both +physically and morally, learned to live again. I have achieved +something of high happiness in these years, something I know of +pure contentment; and I have learned two or three deep and simple +things about life: I have learned that happiness is not to be had +for the seeking, but comes quietly to him who pauses at his +difficult task and looks upward. I have learned that friendship +is very simple, and, more than all else, I have learned the +lesson of being quiet, of looking out across the meadows and +hills, and of trusting a little in God. + +And now, for the moment, I am regaining another of the joys of +youth--that of the sense of perfect freedom. I made no plans when +I left home, I scarcely chose the direction in which I was to +travel, but drifted out, as a boy might, into the great busy +world. Oh, I have dreamed of that! It seems almost as though, +after ten years, I might again really touch the highest joys of +adventure! + +So I took the Road as it came, as a man takes a woman, for better +or worse--I took the Road, and the farms along it, and the sleepy +little villages, and the streams from the hillsides--all with +high enjoyment. They were good coin in my purse! And when I had +passed the narrow horizon of my acquaintanceship, and reached +country new to me, it seemed as though every sense I had began to +awaken. I must have grown dull, unconsciously, in the last years +there on my farm. I cannot describe the eagerness of discovery I +felt at climbing each new hill, nor the long breath I took at the +top of it as I surveyed new stretches of pleasant countryside. + +Assuredly this is one of the royal moments of all the year--fine, +cool, sparkling spring weather. I think I never saw the meadows +richer and greener--and the lilacs are still blooming, and the +catbirds and orioles are here. The oaks are not yet in full leaf, +but the maples have nearly reached their full mantle of +verdure--they are very beautiful and charming to see. + +It is curious how at this moment of the year all the world seems +astir. I suppose there is no moment in any of the seasons when +the whole army of agriculture, regulars and reserves, is so fully +drafted for service in the fields. And all the doors and windows, +both in the little villages and on the farms, stand wide open to +the sunshine, and all the women and girls are busy in the yards +and gardens. Such a fine, active, gossipy, adventurous world as +it is at this moment of the year! + +It is the time, too, when all sorts of travelling people are +afoot. People who have been mewed up in the cities for the winter +now take to the open road--all the peddlers and agents and +umbrella-menders, all the nursery salesmen and fertilizer agents, +all the tramps and scientists and poets--all abroad in the wide +sunny roads. They, too, know well this hospitable moment of the +spring; they, too, know that doors and hearts are open and that +even into dull lives creeps a bit of the spirit of adventure. +Why, a farmer will buy a corn planter, feed a tramp, or listen to +a poet twice as easily at this time of year as at any other! + +For several days I found myself so fully occupied with the +bustling life of the Road that I scarcely spoke to a living soul, +but strode straight ahead. The spring has been late and cold: +most of the corn and some of the potatoes are not yet in, and the +tobacco lands are still bare and brown. Occasionally I stopped to +watch some ploughman in the fields: I saw with a curious, deep +satisfaction how the moist furrows, freshly turned, glistened in +the warm sunshine. There seemed to be something right and fit +about it, as well as human and beautiful. Or at evening I would +stop to watch a ploughman driving homeward across his new brown +fields, raising a cloud of fine dust from the fast drying furrow +crests. The low sun shining through the dust and glorifying it, +the weary-stepping horses, the man all sombre-coloured like the +earth itself and knit into the scene as though a part of it, made +a picture exquisitely fine to see. + +And what a joy I had also of the lilacs blooming in many a +dooryard, the odour often trailing after me for a long distance +in the road, and of the pungent scent at evening in the cool +hollows of burning brush heaps and the smell of barnyards as I +went by--not unpleasant, not offensive--and above all, the deep, +earthy, moist odour of new-ploughed fields. + +And then, at evening, to hear the sound of voices from the +dooryards as I pass quite unseen; no words, but just pleasant, +quiet intonations of human voices, borne through the still air, +or the low sounds of cattle in the barnyards, quieting down for +the night, and often, if near a village, the distant, slumbrous +sound of a church bell, or even the rumble of a train--how good +all these sounds are! They have all come to me again this week +with renewed freshness and impressiveness. I am living deep +again! + +It was not, indeed, until last Wednesday that I began to get my +fill, temporarily, of the outward satisfaction of the Road--the +primeval takings of the senses--the mere joys of seeing, hearing, +smelling, touching. But on that day I began to wake up; I began +to have a desire to know something of all the strange and +interesting people who are working in their fields, or standing +invitingly in their doorways, or so busily afoot in the country +roads. Let me add, also, for this is one of the most important +parts of my present experience, that this new desire was far from +being wholly esoteric. I had also begun to have cravings which +would not in the least be satisfied by landscapes or dulled by +the sights and sounds of the road. A whiff here and there from a +doorway at mealtime had made me long for my own home, for the +sight of Harriet calling from the steps: + +"Dinner, David." + +But I had covenanted with myself long before starting that I +would literally "live light in spring." It was the one and +primary condition I made with myself--and made with serious +purpose--and when I came away I had only enough money in my +pocket and sandwiches in my pack to see me through the first +three or four days. Any man may brutally pay his way anywhere, +but it is quite another thing to be accepted by your humankind +not as a paid lodger but as a friend. Always, it seems to me, I +have wanted to submit myself, and indeed submit the stranger, to +that test. Moreover, how can any man look for true adventure in +life if he always knows to a certainty where his next meal is +coming from? In a world so completely dominated by goods, by +things, by possessions, and smothered by security, what fine +adventure is left to a man of spirit save the adventure of +poverty? + +I do not mean by this the adventure of involuntary poverty, for I +maintain that involuntary poverty, like involuntary riches, is a +credit to no man. It is only as we dominate life that we really +live. What I mean here, if I may so express it, is an adventure +in achieved poverty. In the lives of such true men as Francis of +Assisi and Tolstoi, that which draws the world to them in secret +sympathy is not that they lived lives of poverty, but rather, +having riches at their hands, or for the very asking, that they +chose poverty as the better way of life. + +As for me, I do not in the least pretend to have accepted the +final logic of an achieved poverty. I have merely abolished +temporarily from my life a few hens and cows, a comfortable old +farmhouse, and--certain other emoluments and hereditaments--but +remain the slave of sundry cloth upon my back and sundry articles +in my gray bag--including a fat pocket volume or so, and a tin +whistle. Let them pass now. To-morrow I may wish to attempt life +with still less. I might survive without my battered copy of +"Montaigne" or even submit to existence without that sense of +distant companionship symbolized by a postage-stamp, and as for +trousers-- + +In this deceptive world, how difficult of attainment is perfection! + +No, I expect I shall continue for a long time to owe the worm his +silk, the beast his hide, the sheep his wool, and the cat his +perfume! What I am seeking is something as simple and as quiet as +the trees or the hills --just to look out around me at the +pleasant countryside, to enjoy a little of this show, to meet +(and to help a little if I may) a few human beings, and thus to +get nearly into the sweet kernel of human life). My friend, you +may or may not think this a worthy object; if you do not, stop +here, go no further with me; but if you do, why, we'll exchange +great words on the road; we'll look up at the sky together, we'll +see and hear the finest things in this world! We'll enjoy the +sun! We'll live light in spring! + +Until last Tuesday, then, I was carried easily and comfortably +onward by the corn, the eggs, and the honey of my past labours, +and before Wednesday noon I began to experience in certain vital +centres recognizable symptoms of a variety of discomfort +anciently familiar to man. And it was all the sharper because I +did not know how or where I could assuage it. In all my life, in +spite of various ups and downs in a fat world, I don't think I +was ever before genuinely hungry. Oh, I've been hungry in a +reasonable, civilized way, but I have always known where in an +hour or so I could get all I wanted to eat--a condition +accountable, in this world, I am convinced, for no end of +stupidity. But to be both physically and, let us say, +psychologically hungry, and not to know where or how to get +anything to eat, adds something to the zest of life. + +By noon on Wednesday, then, I was reduced quite to a point of +necessity. But where was I to begin, and how? I know from long +experience the suspicion with which the ordinary farmer meets the +Man of the Road --the man who appears to wish to enjoy the fruits +of the earth without working for them with his hands. It is a +distrust deep-seated and ages old. Nor can the Man of the Road +ever quite understand the Man of the Fields. And here was I, for +so long the stationary Man of the Fields, essaying the role of +the Man of the Road. I experienced a sudden sense of the +enlivenment of the faculties: I must now depend upon wit or +cunning or human nature to win my way, not upon mere skill of the +hand or strength in the bent back. Whereas in my former life, +when I was assailed by a Man of the Road, whether tramp or +peddler or poet, I had only to stand stock-still within my fences +and say nothing--though indeed I never could do that, being far +too much interested in every one who came my way--and the invader +was soon repelled. There is nothing so resistant as the dull +security of possession the stolidity of ownership! + +Many times that day I stopped by a field side or at the end of a +lane, or at a house-gate, and considered the possibilities of +making an attack. Oh, I measured the houses and barns I saw with +a new eye! The kind of country I had known so long and familiarly +became a new and foreign land, full of strange possibilities. I +spied out the men in the fields and did not fail, also, to see +what I could of the commissary department of each farmstead as I +passed. I walked for miles looking thus for a favourable +opening--and with a sensation of embarrassment at once +disagreeable and pleasurable. As the afternoon began to deepen I +saw that I must absolutely do something: a whole day tramping in +the open air without a bite to eat is an irresistible argument. + +Presently I saw from the road a farmer and his son planting +potatoes in a sloping field. There was no house at all in view. +At the bars stood a light wagon half filled with bags of seed +potatoes, and the horse which had drawn it stood quietly, not far +off, tied to the fence. The man and the boy, each with a basket +on his arm, were at the farther end of the field, dropping +potatoes. I stood quietly watching them. They stepped quickly and +kept their eyes on the furrows: good workers. I liked the looks +of them. I liked also the straight, clean furrows; I liked the +appearance of the horse. + +"I will stop here," I said to myself. + +I cannot at all convey the sense of high adventure I had as I +stood there. Though I had not the slightest idea of what I should +do or say, yet I was determined upon the attack. + +Neither father nor son saw me until they had nearly reached the +end of the field. + +"Step lively, Ben," I heard the man say with some impatience; +"we've got to finish this field to-day." + +"I AM steppin' lively, dad," responded the boy, "but it's awful +hot. We can't possibly finish to-day. It's too much." + +"We've got to get through here to-day," the man replied grimly; +"we're already two weeks late." + +I know just how the man felt; for I knew well the difficulty a +farmer has in getting help in planting time. The spring waits +for no man. My heart went out to the man and boy struggling there +in the heat of their field. For this is the real warfare of the +common life. + +"Why," I said to myself with a curious lift of the heart, "they +have need of a fellow just like me." + +At that moment the boy saw me and, missing a step in the rhythm +of the planting, the father also looked up and saw me. But +neither said a word until the furrows were finished, and the +planters came to refill their baskets. + +"Fine afternoon," I said, sparring for an opening. + +"Fine," responded the man rather shortly, glancing up from his +work. I recalled the scores of times I had been exactly in his +place, and had glanced up to see the stranger in the road. + +"Got another basket handy?" I asked. + +"There is one somewhere around here," he answered not too +cordially. The boy said nothing at all, but eyed me with +absorbing interest. The gloomy look had already gone from his +face. + +I slipped my gray bag from my shoulder, took off my coat, and put +them both down inside the fence. Then I found the basket and +began to fill it from one of the bags. Both man and boy looked up +at me questioningly. I enjoyed the situation immensely. + +"I heard you say to your son," I said, "that you'd have to hurry +in order to get in your potatoes to-day. I can see that for +myself. Let me take a hand for a row or two." + +The unmistakable shrewd look of the bargainer came suddenly into +the man's face, but when I went about my business without +hesitation or questioning, he said nothing at all. As for the +boy, the change in his countenance was marvellous to see. +Something new and astonishing had come into the world. Oh, I +know what a thing it is to be a boy and to work in trouting time! + +"How near are you planting, Ben?" I asked. + +"About fourteen inches." + +So we began in fine spirits. I was delighted with the favourable +beginning of my enterprise; there is nothing which so draws men +together as their employment at a common task. + +Ben was a lad some fifteen years old-very stout and stocky, with +a fine open countenance and a frank blue eye--all boy. His nose +was as freckled as the belly of a trout. The whole situation, +including the prospect of help in finishing a tiresome job, +pleased him hugely. He stole a glimpse from time to time at me +then at his father. Finally he said: + +"Say, you'll have to step lively to keep up with dad." + +"I'll show you," I said, "how we used to drop potatoes when I was +a boy." + +And with that I began to step ahead more quickly and make the +pieces fairly fly. + +"We old fellows," I said to the father, "must give these young +sprouts a lesson once in a while." + +"You will, will you?" responded the boy, and instantly began to +drop the potatoes at a prodigious speed. The father followed with +more dignity, but with evident amusement, and so we all came with +a rush to the end of the row. + +"I guess that beats the record across THIS field!" remarked the +lad, puffing and wiping his forehead. "Say, but you're a good +one!" + +It gave me a peculiar thrill of pleasure; there is nothing more +pleasing than the frank admiration of a boy. + +We paused a moment and I said to the man: "This looks like fine +potato land." + +"The' ain't any better in these parts," he replied with some +pride in his voice. + +And so we went at the planting again: and as we planted we had +great talk of seed potatoes and the advantages and disadvantages +of mechanical planters, of cultivating and spraying, and all the +lore of prices and profits. Once we stopped at the lower end of +the field to get a drink from a jug of water set in the shade of +a fence corner, and once we set the horse in the thills and moved +the seed farther up the field. And tired and hungry as I felt I +really enjoyed the work; I really enjoyed talking with this busy +father and son, and I wondered what their home life was like and +what were their real ambitions and hopes. Thus the sun sank lower +and lower, the long shadows began to creep into the valleys, and +we came finally toward the end of the field. Suddenly the boy Ben +cried out: + +"There's Sis!" + +I glanced up and saw standing near the gateway a slim, bright +girl of about twelve in a fresh gingham dress. + +"We're coming!" roared Ben, exultantly. + +While we were hitching up the horse, the man said to me: + +"You'll come down with us and have some supper." + +"Indeed I will," I replied, trying not to make my response too +eager. + +"Did mother make gingerbread to-day?" I heard the boy whisper +audibly. + +"Sh-h--" replied the girl, "who is that man?" + +"_I_ don't know" with a great accent of mystery--"and dad don't +know. Did mother make gingerbread?" + +"Sh-h--he'll hear you." + +"Gee! but he can plant potatoes. He dropped down on us out of a +clear sky." + +"What is he?" she asked. "A tramp?" + +"Nope, not a tramp. He works. But, Sis, did mother make +gingerbread?" + +So we all got into the light wagon and drove briskly out along +the shady country road. The evening was coming on, and the air +was full of the scent of blossoms. We turned finally into a lane +and thus came promptly, for the horse was as eager as we, to the +capacious farmyard. A motherly woman came out from the house, +spoke to her son, and nodded pleasantly to me. There was no +especial introduction. I said merely, "My name is Grayson," and I +was accepted without a word. + +I waited to help the man, whose name I had now learned--it was +Stanley--with his horse and wagon, and then we came up to the +house. Near the back door there was a pump, with a bench and +basin set just within a little cleanly swept, open shed. Rolling +back my collar and baring my arms I washed myself in the cool +water, dashing it over my head until I gasped, and then stepping +back, breathless and refreshed, I found the slim girl, Mary, at +my elbow with a clean soft towel. As I stood wiping quietly I +could smell the ambrosial odours from the kitchen. In all my life +I never enjoyed a moment more than that, I think. + +"Come in now," said the motherly Mrs. Stanley. + +So we filed into the roomy kitchen, where an older girl, called +Kate, was flying about placing steaming dishes upon the table. +There was also an older son, who had been at the farm chores. It +was altogether a fine, vigorous, independent American family. So +we all sat down and drew up our chairs. Then we paused a moment, +and the father, bowing his head, said in a low voice: + +"For all Thy good gifts, Lord, we thank Thee. Preserve us and +keep us through another night." + +I suppose it was a very ordinary farm meal, but it seems to me I +never tasted a better one. The huge piles of new baked bread, the +sweet farm butter, already delicious with the flavour of new +grass, the bacon and eggs, the potatoes, the rhubarb sauce, the +great plates of new, hot gingerbread and, at the last, the +custard pie--a great wedge of it, with fresh cheese. After the +first ravenous appetite of hardworking men was satisfied, there +came to be a good deal of lively conversation. The girls had some +joke between them which Ben was trying in vain to fathom. The +older son told how much milk a certain Alderney cow had given, +and Mr. Stanley, quite changed now as he sat at his own table +from the rather grim farmer of the afternoon, revealed a capacity +for a husky sort of fun, joking Ben about his potato-planting and +telling in a lively way of his race with me. As for Mrs. Stanley, +she sat smiling behind her tall coffee pot, radiating good cheer +and hospitality. They asked me no questions at all, and I was so +hungry and tired that I volunteered no information. + +After supper we went out for half or three quarters of an hour to +do some final chores, and Mr. Stanley and I stopped in the cattle +yard and looked over the cows, and talked learnedly about the +pigs, and I admired his spring calves to his hearts content, for +they really were a fine lot. When we came in again the lamps had +been lighted in the sitting-room and the older daughter was at +the telephone exchanging the news of the day with some +neighbour--and with great laughter and enjoyment. Occasionally +she would turn and repeat some bit of gossip to the family, and +Mrs. Stanley would claim: + +"Do tell!" + +"Can't we have a bit of music to-night?" inquired Mr. Stanley. + +Instantly Ben and the slim girl, Mary, made a wild dive for the +front room--the parlour--and came out with a first-rate +phonograph which they placed on the table. + +"Something lively now," said Mr. Stanley. + +So they put on a rollicking negro song called. "My Georgia +Belle," which, besides the tuneful voices, introduced a steamboat +whistle and a musical clangour of bells. When it wound up with a +bang, Mr. Stanley took his big comfortable pipe out of his mouth +and cried out: + +"Fine, fine!" + +We had further music of the same sort and with one record the +older daughter, Kate, broke into the song with a full, strong +though uncultivated voice--which pleased us all very much indeed. + +Presently Mrs. Stanley, who was sitting under the lamp with a +basket of socks to mend, began to nod. + +"Mother's giving the signal," said the older son. + +"No, no, I'm not a bit sleepy," exclaimed Mrs. Stanley. + +But with further joking and laughing the family began to move +about. The older daughter gave me a hand lamp and showed me the +way upstairs to a little room at the end of the house. + +"I think," she said with pleasant dignity, "you will find +everything you need." + +I cannot tell with what solid pleasure I rolled into bed or how +soundly and sweetly I slept. + +This was the first day of my real adventures. + + + +CHAPTER II. I WHISTLE + +When I was a boy I learned after many discouragements to play on +a tin whistle. There was a wandering old fellow in our town who +would sit for hours on the shady side of a certain ancient +hotel-barn, and with his little whistle to his lips, and gently +swaying his head to his tune and tapping one foot in the gravel, +he would produce the most wonderful and beguiling melodies. His +favourite selections were very lively; he played, I remember, +"Old Dan Tucker," and "Money Musk," and the tune of a rollicking +old song, now no doubt long forgotten, called "Wait for the +Wagon." I can see him yet, with his jolly eyes half closed, his +lips puckered around the whistle, and his fingers curiously and +stiffly poised over the stops. I am sure I shall never forget the +thrill which his music gave to the heart of a certain barefoot +boy. + +At length, by means I have long since forgotten, I secured a tin +whistle exactly like Old Tom Madison's and began diligently to +practise such tunes as I knew. I am quite sure now that I must +have made a nuisance of myself, for it soon appeared to be the +set purpose of every member of the family to break up my efforts. +Whenever my father saw me with the whistle to my lips, he would +instantly set me at some useful work (oh, he was an adept in +discovering useful work to do--for a boy!). And at the very sight +of my stern aunt I would instantly secrete my whistle in my +blouse and fly for the garret or cellar, like a cat caught in the +cream. Such are the early tribulations of musical genius! + +At last I discovered a remote spot on a beam in the hay-barn +where, lighted by a ray of sunlight which came through a crack in +the eaves and pointed a dusty golden finger into that hay-scented +interior, I practised rapturously and to my heart's content upon +my tin whistle. I learned "Money Musk" until I could play it in +Old Tom Madison's best style--even to the last nod and final +foot-tap. I turned a certain church hymn called "Yield Not to +Temptation" into something quite inspiriting, and I played +"Marching Through Georgia" until all the "happy hills of hay" +were to the fervid eye of a boy's imagination full of tramping +soldiers. Oh, I shall never forget the joys of those hours in the +hay-barn, nor the music of that secret tin whistle! I can hear +yet the crooning of the pigeons in the eaves, and the slatey +sound of their wings as they flew across the open spaces in the +great barn; I can smell yet the odour of the hay. + +But with years, and the city, and the shame of youth, I put aside +and almost forgot the art of whistling. When I was preparing for +the present pilgrimage, however, it came to me with a sudden +thrill of pleasure that nothing in the wide world now prevented +me from getting a whistle and seeing whether I had forgotten my +early cunning. At the very first good-sized town I came to I was +delighted to find at a little candy and toy shop just the sort of +whistle I wanted, at the extravagant price of ten cents. I bought +it and put it in the bottom of my knapsack. + +"Am I not old enough now," I said to myself, "to be as youthful +as I choose?" + +Isn't it the strangest thing in the world how long it takes us to +learn to accept the joys of simple pleasures?--and some of us +never learn at all. "Boo!" says the neighbourhood, and we are +instantly frightened into doing a thousand unnecessary and +unpleasant things, or prevented from doing a thousand beguiling +things. + +For the first few days I was on the road I thought often with +pleasure of the whistle lying there in my bag, but it was not +until after I left the Stanleys' that I felt exactly in the mood +to try it. + +The fact is, my adventures on the Stanley farm had left me in a +very cheerful frame of mind. They convinced me that some of the +great things I had expected of my pilgrimage were realizable +possibilities. Why, I had walked right into the heart of as fine +a family as I have seen these many days. + +I remained with them the entire day following the +potato-planting. We were out at five o'clock in the morning, and +after helping with the chores, and eating a prodigious breakfast, +we went again to the potato-field, and part of the time I helped +plant a few remaining rows, and part of the time I drove a team +attached to a wing-plow to cover the planting of the previous +day. + +In the afternoon a slashing spring rain set in, and Mr. Stanley, +who was a forehanded worker, found a job for all of us in the +barn. Ben, the younger son, and I sharpened mower-blades and a +scythe or so, Ben turning the grindstone and I holding the blades +and telling him stories into the bargain. Mr. Stanley and his +stout older son overhauled the work-harness and tinkered the +corn-planter. The doors at both ends of the barn stood wide open, +and through one of them, framed like a picture, we could see the +scudding floods descend upon the meadows, and through the other, +across a fine stretch of open country, we could see all the roads +glistening and the treetops moving under the rain. + +"Fine, fine!" exclaimed Mr. Stanley, looking out from time to +time, "we got in our potatoes just in the nick of time." + +After supper that evening I told them of my plan to leave them on +the following morning. + +"Don't do that," said Mrs. Stanley heartily; "stay on with us." + +"Yes," said Mr. Stanley, "we're shorthanded, and I'd be glad to +have a man like you all summer. There ain't any one around here +will pay a good man more'n I will, nor treat 'im better." + +"I'm sure of it, Mr. Stanley," I said, "but I can't stay with +you." + +At that the tide of curiosity which I had seen rising ever since +I came began to break through. Oh, I know how difficult it is to +let the wanderer get by without taking toll of him! There are not +so many people here in the country that we can afford to neglect +them. And as I had nothing in the world to conceal, and, indeed, +loved nothing better than the give and take of getting +acquainted, we were soon at it in good earnest. + +But it was not enough to tell them that my name was David Grayson +and where my farm was located, and how many acres there were, and +how much stock I had, and what I raised. The great particular +"Why?" --as I knew it would be--concerned my strange presence on +the road at this season of the year and the reason why I should +turn in by chance, as I had done, to help at their planting. If a +man is stationary, it seems quite impossible for him to imagine +why any one should care to wander; and as for the wanderer it is +inconceivable to him how any one can remain permanently at home. + +We were all sitting comfortably around the table in the +living-room. The lamps were lighted, and Mr. Stanley, in +slippers, was smoking his pipe and Mrs. Stanley was darning socks +over a mending-gourd, and the two young Stanleys were whispering +and giggling about some matter of supreme consequence to youth. +The windows were open, and we could smell the sweet scent of the +lilacs from the yard and hear the drumming of the rain as it fell +on the roof of the porch. + +"It's easy to explain," I said. "The fact is, it got to the point +on my farm that I wasn't quite sure whether I owned it or it +owned me. And I made up my mind I'd get away for a while from my +own horses and cattle and see what the world was like. I wanted +to see how people lived up here, and what they are thinking +about, and how they do their farming." + +As I talked of my plans and of the duty one had, as I saw it, to +be a good broad man as well as a good farmer, I grew more and +more interested and enthusiastic. Mr. Stanley took his pipe +slowly from his mouth, held it poised until it finally went out, +and sat looking at me with a rapt expression. I never had a +better audience. Finally, Mr. Stanley said very earnestly: + +"And you have felt that way, too?" + +"Why, father!" exclaimed Mrs. Stanley, in astonishment. + +Mr. Stanley hastily put his pipe back into his mouth and +confusedly searched in his pockets for a match; but I knew I had +struck down deep into a common experience. Here was this brisk +and prosperous farmer having his dreams too--dreams that even +his wife did not know! + +So I continued my talk with even greater fervour. I don't think +that the boy Ben understood all that I said, for I was dealing +with experiences common mostly to older men, but he somehow +seemed to get the spirit of it, for quite unconsciously he began +to hitch his chair toward me, then he laid his hand on my +chair-arm and finally and quite simply he rested his arm against +mine and looked at me with all his eyes. I keep learning that +there is nothing which reaches men's hearts like talking straight +out the convictions and emotions of your innermost soul. Those +who hear you may not agree with you, or they may not understand +you fully, but something incalculable, something vital, passes. +And as for a boy or girl it is one of the sorriest of mistakes to +talk down to them; almost always your lad of fifteen thinks more +simply, more fundamentally, than you do; and what he accepts as +good coin is not facts or precepts, but feelings and +convictions--LIFE. And why shouldn't we speak out? + +"I long ago decided," I said, "to try to be fully what I am and +not to be anything or anybody else." + +"That's right, that's right," exclaimed Mr. Stanley, nodding his +head vigorously. + +"It's about the oldest wisdom there is," I said, and with that I +thought of the volume I carried in my pocket, and straightway I +pulled it out and after a moment's search found the passage I +wanted. + +"Listen," I said, "to what this old Roman philosopher said"--and +I held the book up to the lamp and read aloud: + +"'You can be invincible if you enter into no contest in which it +is not in your power to conquer. Take care, then, when you +observe a man honoured before others or possessed of great power, +or highly esteemed for any reason, not to suppose him happy and +be not carried away by the appearance. For if the nature of the +good is in our power, neither envy nor jealousy will have a place +in us. But you yourself will not wish to be a general or a +senator or consul, but a free man, and there is only one way to +do this, to care not for the things which are not in our power.'" + +"That," said Mr. Stanley, "is exactly what I've always said, but +I didn't know it was in any book. I always said I didn't want to +be a senator or a legislator, or any other sort of office-holder. +It's good enough for me right here on this farm." + +At that moment I glanced down into Ben's shining eyes. + +"But I want to be a senator or--something--when I grow up," he +said eagerly. + +At this the older brother, who was sitting not far off, broke +into a laugh, and the boy, who for a moment had been drawn out of +his reserve, shrank back again and coloured to the hair. + +"Well, Ben," said I, putting my hand on his knee, "don't you let +anything stop you. I'll back you up; I'll vote for you." + +After breakfast the next morning Mr. Stanley drew me aside and +said: + +"Now I want to pay you for your help yesterday and the day +before." + +"No," I said. "I've had more than value received. You've taken me +in like a friend and brother. I've enjoyed it." + +So Mrs. Stanley half filled my knapsack with the finest luncheon +I've seen in many a day, and thus, with as pleasant a farewell as +if I'd been a near relative, I set off up the country road. I was +a little distressed in parting to see nothing of the boy Ben, for +I had formed a genuine liking for him, but upon reaching a clump +of trees which hid the house from the road I saw him standing in +the moist grass of a fence corner. + +"I want to say good-bye," he said in the gruff voice of +embarrassment. + +"Ben," I said, "I missed you, and I'd have hated to go off +without seeing you again. Walk a bit with me." + +So we walked side by side, talking quietly and when at last I +shook his hand I said: + +"Ben, don't you ever be afraid of acting up to the very best +thoughts you have in your heart." + +He said nothing for a moment, and then: "Gee! I'm sorry you're +goin' away!" + +"Gee!" I responded, "I'm sorry, too!" + +With that we both laughed, but when I reached the top of the +hill, and looked back, I saw him still standing there bare-footed +in the road looking after me. I waved my hand and he waved his: +and I saw him no more. + +No country, after all, produces any better crop than its +inhabitants. And as I travelled onward I liked to think of these +brave, temperate, industrious, God-friendly American people. I +have no fear of the country while so many of them are still to be +found upon the farms and in the towns of this land. + +So I tramped onward full of cheerfulness. The rain had ceased, +but all the world was moist and very green and still. I walked +for more than two hours with the greatest pleasure. About ten +o'clock in the morning I stopped near a brook to drink and rest, +for I was warm and tired. And it was then that I bethought me of +the little tin pipe in my knapsack, and straightway I got it out, +and, sitting down at the foot of a tree near the brook, I put it +to my lips and felt for the stops with unaccustomed fingers. At +first I made the saddest sort of work of it, and was not a little +disappointed, indeed, with the sound of the whistle itself. It +was nothing to my memory of it! It seemed thin and tinny. + +However, I persevered at it, and soon produced a recognizable +imitation of Tom Madison's "Old Dan Tucker." My success quite +pleased me, and I became so absorbed that I quite lost account of +the time and place. There was no one to hear me save a bluejay +which for an hour or more kept me company. He sat on a twig just +across the brook, cocking his head at me, and saucily wagging his +tail. Occasionally he would dart off among the trees crying +shrilly; but his curiosity would always get the better of him and +back he would come again to try to solve the mystery of this +rival whistling, which I'm sure was as shrill and as harsh as his +own. + +Presently, quite to my astonishment, I saw a man standing near +the brookside not a dozen paces away from me. How long he had +been there I don't know, for I had heard nothing of his coming. +Beyond him in the town road I could see the head of his horse and +the top of his buggy. I said not a word, but continued with my +practising. Why shouldn't I? But it gave me quite a thrill for +the moment; and at once I began to think of the possibilities of +the situation. What a thing it was have so many unexpected and +interesting situations developing! So I nodded my head and tapped +my foot, and blew into my whistle all the more energetically. I +knew my visitor could not possibly keep away. And he could not; +presently he came nearer and said: + +"What are you doing, neighbour?" + +I continued a moment with my playing, but commanded him with my +eye. + +Oh, I assure you I assumed all the airs of a virtuoso. When I had +finished my tune I removed my whistle deliberately and wiped my +lips. + +"Why, enjoying myself," I replied with greatest good humour. +"What are you doing?" + +"Why," he said, "watching you enjoy yourself. I heard you playing +as I passed in the road, and couldn't imagine what it could be." + +I told him I thought it might still be difficult, having heard me +near at hand, to imagine what it could be--and thus, tossing the +ball of good-humoured repartee back and forth, we walked down to +the road together. He had a quiet old horse and a curious top +buggy with the unmistakable box of an agent or peddler built on +behind. + +"My name," he said, "is Canfield. I fight dust." + +"And mine," I said, "is Grayson. I whistle." + +I discovered that he was an agent for brushes, and he opened his +box and showed me the greatest assortment of big and little +brushes: bristle brushes, broom brushes, yarn brushes, wire +brushes, brushes for man and brushes for beast, brushes of every +conceivable size and shape that ever I saw in all my life. He had +out one of his especial pets--he called it his "leader"--and +feeling it familiarly in his hand he instinctively began the +jargon of well-handled and voice-worn phrases which went with +that particular brush. It was just as though some one had touched +a button and had started him going. It was amazing to me that any +one in the world should be so much interested in mere +brushes--until he actually began to make me feel that brushes +were as interesting as anything else! + +What a strange, little, dried-up old fellow he was, with his +balls of muttonchop sidewhiskers, his thick eyebrows, and his +lively blue eyes!--a man evidently not readily turned aside by +rebuffs. He had already shown that his wit as a talker had been +sharpened by long and varied contact with a world of reluctant +purchasers. I was really curious to know more of him, so I said +finally: + +"See here, Mr. Canfield, it's just noon. Why not sit down here +with me and have a bit of luncheon?" + +"Why not?" he responded with alacrity. "As the fellow said, why +not?" + +He unhitched his horse, gave him a drink from the brook, and then +tethered him where he could nip the roadside grass. I opened my +bag and explored the wonders of Mrs. Stanley's luncheon. I cannot +describe the absolutely carefree feeling I had. Always at home, +when I would have liked to stop at the roadside with a stranger, +I felt the nudge of a conscience troubled with cows and corn, but +here I could stop where I liked, or go on when I liked, and talk +with whom I pleased, as long as I pleased. + +So we sat there, the brush-peddler and I, under the trees, and +ate Mrs. Stanley's fine luncheon, drank the clear water from the +brook, and talked great talk. Compared with Mr. Canfield I was a +babe at wandering--and equally at talking. Was there any business +he had not been in, or any place in the country he had not +visited? He had sold everything from fly-paper to +threshing-machines, he had picked up a large working knowledge of +the weaknesses of human nature, and had arrived at the age of +sixty-six with just enough available cash to pay the manufacturer +for a new supply of brushes. In strict confidence, I drew certain +conclusions from the colour of his nose! He had once had a +family, but dropped them somewhere along the road. Most of our +brisk neighbours would have put him down as a failure--an old +man, and nothing laid by! But I wonder--I wonder. One thing I am +coming to learn in this world, and that is to let people haggle +along with their lives as I haggle along with mine. + +We both made tremendous inroads on the luncheon, and I presume we +might have sat there talking all the afternoon if I had not +suddenly bethought myself with a not unpleasant thrill that my +resting-place for the night was still gloriously undecided. + +"Friend," I said, "I've got to be up and going. I haven't so much +as a penny in my pocket, and I've got to find a place to sleep." + +The effect of this remark upon Mr. Canfield was magical. He threw +up both his hands and cried out: + +"You're that way, are you?"--as though for the first time he +really understood. We were at last on common ground. + +"Partner," said he, "you needn't tell nothin' about it. I've been +right there myself." + +At once he began to bustle about with great enthusiasm. He was +for taking complete charge of me, and I think, if I had permitted +it, would instantly have made a brush-agent of me. At least he +would have carried me along with him in his buggy; but when he +suggested it I felt very much, I think, as some old monk must +have who had taken a vow to do some particular thing in some +particular way. With great difficulty I convinced him finally +that my way was different from his--though he was regally +impartial as to what road he took next--and, finally, with some +reluctance, he started to climb into his buggy. + +A thought, however, struck him suddenly, and he stepped down +again, ran around to the box at the back of his buggy, opened it +with a mysterious and smiling look at me, and took out a small +broom-brush with which he instantly began brushing off my coat +and trousers--in the liveliest and most exuberant way. When he +had finished this occupation, he quickly handed the brush to me. + +"A token of esteem," he said, "from a fellow traveller." + +I tried in vain to thank him, but he held up his hand, scrambled +quickly into his buggy, and was for driving off instantly, but +paused and beckoned me toward him. When I approached the buggy, +he took hold of one the lapels of my coat, bent over, and said +with the utmost seriousness: + +"No man ought to take the road without a brush. A good +broom-brush is the world's greatest civilizer. Are you looking +seedy or dusty?--why, this here brush will instantly make you a +respectable citizen. Take my word for it, friend, never go into +any strange house without stoppin' and brushin' off. It's money +in your purse! You can get along without dinner sometimes, or +even without a shirt, but without a brush --never! There's +nothin' in the world so necessary to rich AN' poor, old AN' young +as a good brush!" + +And with a final burst of enthusiasm the brush-peddler drove off +up the hill. I stood watching him and when he turned around I +waved the brush high over my head in token of a grateful +farewell. + +It was a good, serviceable, friendly brush. I carried it +throughout my wanderings; and as I sit here writing in my study, +at this moment, I can see it hanging on a hook at the side of my +fireplace. + + + +CHAPTER III. THE HOUSE BY THE SIDE OF THE ROAD + +"Everyone," remarks Tristram Shandy, "will speak of the fair as +his own market has gone in it." + +It came near being a sorry fair for me on the afternoon following +my parting with the amiable brush-peddler. The plain fact is, my +success at the Stanleys', and the easy manner in which I had +fallen in with Mr. Canfield, gave me so much confidence in myself +as a sort of Master of the Road that I proceeded with altogether +too much assurance. + +I am firmly convinced that the prime quality to be cultivated by +the pilgrim is humility of spirit; he must be willing to accept +Adventure in whatever garb she chooses to present herself. He +must be able to see the shining form of the unusual through the +dull garments of the normal. + +The fact is, I walked that afternoon with my head in air and +passed many a pleasant farmstead where men were working in the +fields, and many an open doorway, and a mill or two, and a +town--always looking for some Great Adventure. + +Somewhere upon this road, I thought to myself, I shall fall in +with a Great Person, or become a part of a Great Incident. I +recalled with keen pleasure the experience of that young Spanish +student of Carlyle writes in one of his volumes, who, riding out +from Madrid one day, came unexpectedly upon the greatest man in +the world. This great man, of whom Carlyle observes (I have +looked up the passage since I came home), "a kindlier, meeker, +braver heart has seldom looked upon the sky in this world," had +ridden out from the city for the last time in his life "to take +one other look at the azure firmament and green mosaic pavements +and the strange carpentry and arras work of this noble palace of +a world." + +As the old story has it, the young student "came pricking on +hastily, complaining that they went at such a pace as gave him +little chance of keeping up with them. One of the party made +answer that the blame lay with the horse of Don Miguel de +Cervantes, whose trot was of the speediest. He had hardly +pronounced the name when the student dismounted and, touching the +hem of Cervantes' left sleeve, said, 'Yes, yes, it is indeed the +maimed perfection, the all-famous, the delightful writer, the joy +and darling of the Muses! You are that brave Miguel.'" + +It may seem absurd to some in this cool and calculating twentieth +century that any one should indulge in such vain imaginings as I +have described--and yet, why not? All things are as we see them. +I once heard a man--a modern man, living to-day--tell with a hush +in his voice, and a peculiar light in his eye, how, walking in +the outskirts of an unromantic town in New Jersey, he came +suddenly upon a vigorous, bearded, rather rough-looking man +swinging his stick as he walked, and stopping often at the +roadside and often looking up at the sky. I shall never forget +the curious thrill in his voice as he said: + +"And THAT was Walt Whitman." + +And thus quite absurdly intoxicated by the possibilities of the +road, I let the big full afternoon slip by--I let slip the rich +possibilities of half a hundred farms and scores of travelling +people--and as evening began to fall I came to a stretch of +wilder country with wooded hills and a dashing stream by the +roadside. It was a fine and beautiful country--to look at--but +the farms, and with them the chances of dinner, and a friendly +place to sleep, grew momentarily scarcer. Upon the hills here and +there, indeed, were to be seen the pretentious summer homes of +rich dwellers from the cities, but I looked upon them with no +great hopefulness. + +"Of all places in the world," I said to myself, "surely none +could be more unfriendly to a man like me." + +But I amused myself with conjectures as to what might happen +(until the adventure seemed almost worth trying) if a dusty man +with a bag on his back should appear at the door of one of those +well-groomed establishments. It came to me, indeed, with a sudden +deep sense of understanding, that I should probably find there, +as everywhere else, just men and women. And with that I fell into +a sort of Socratic dialogue with myself: + +ME: Having decided that the people in these houses are, after +all, merely men and women, what is the best way of reaching them? + +MYSELF: Undoubtedly by giving them something they want and have +not. + +ME: But these are rich people from the city; what can they want +that they have not? + +MYSELF: Believe me, of all people in the world those who want the +most are those who have the most. These people are also consumed +with desires. + +ME: And what, pray, do you suppose they desire? + +MYSELF: They want what they have not got; they want the +unattainable: they want chiefly the rarest and most precious of +all things--a little mystery in their lives. + +"That's it!" I said aloud; "that's it! Mystery--the things of the +spirit, the things above ordinary living--is not that the +essential thing for which the world is sighing, and groaning, and +longing--consciously, or unconsciously?" + +I have always believed that men in their innermost souls desire +the highest, bravest, finest things they can hear, or see, or +feel in all the world. Tell a man how he can increase his income +and he will be grateful to you and soon forget you; but show him +the highest, most mysterious things in his own soul and give him +the word which will convince him that the finest things are +really attainable, and he will love and follow you always. + +I now began to look with much excitement to a visit at one of the +houses on the hill, but to my disappointment I found the next two +that I approached still closed up, for the spring was not yet far +enough advanced to attract the owners to the country. I walked +rapidly onward through the gathering twilight, but with +increasing uneasiness as to the prospects for the night, and thus +came suddenly upon the scene of an odd adventure. + +From some distance I had seen a veritable palace set high among +the trees and overlooking a wonderful green valley--and, drawing +nearer, I saw evidences of well-kept roadways and a visible +effort to make invisible the attempt to preserve the wild beauty +of the place. I saw, or thought I saw, people on the wide +veranda, and I was sure I heard the snort of a climbing +motor-car, but I had scarcely decided to make my way up to the +house when I came, at the turning of the country road, upon a bit +of open land laid out neatly as a garden, near the edge of which, +nestling among the trees, stood a small cottage. It seemed +somehow to belong to the great estate above it, and I concluded, +at the first glance, that it was the home of some caretaker or +gardener. + +It was a charming place to see, and especially the plantation of +trees and shrubs. My eye fell instantly upon a fine +magnolia--rare in this country--which had not yet cast all its +blossoms, and I paused for a moment to look at it more closely. I +myself have tried to raise magnolias near my house, and I know +how difficult it is. + +As I approached nearer to the cottage, I could see a man and +woman sitting on the porch in the twilight and swaying back and +forth in rocking-chairs. I fancied-- it may have been only a +fancy--that when I first saw them their hands were clasped as +they rocked side by side. + +It was indeed a charming little cottage. Crimson ramblers, giving +promise of the bloom that was yet to come, climbed over one end +of the porch, and there were fine dark-leaved lilac-bushes near +the doorway: oh, a pleasant, friendly, quiet place! + +I opened the front gate and walked straight in, as though I had +at last reached my destination. I cannot give any idea of the +lift of the heart with which I entered upon this new adventure. +Without the premeditation and not knowing what I should say or +do, I realized that everything dependedupon a few sentences spoken +within the next minute or two. Believe me, this experience to +a man who does not know where his next meal is coming from, nor +where he is to spend the night, is well worth having. It is a +marvellous sharpener of the facts. + +I knew, of course, just how these people of the cottage would +ordinarily regard an intruder whose bag and clothing must +infallibly class him as a follower of the road. And so many +followers of the road are--well-- + +As I came nearer, the man and woman stopped rocking, but said +nothing. An old dog that had been sleeping on the top step rose +slowly and stood there. + +"As I passed your garden," I said, grasping desperately for a way +of approach, "I saw your beautiful specimen of the magnolia +tree--the one still in blossom. I myself have tried to grow +magnolias--but with small success--and I'm making bold to inquire +what variety you are so successful with." + +It was a shot in the air--but I knew from what I had seen that +they must be enthusiastic gardeners. The man glanced around at +the magnolia with evident pride, and was about to answer when the +woman rose and with a pleasant, quiet cordiality said: + +"Won't you step up and have a chair?" + +I swung my bag from my shoulder and took the proffered seat. As I +did so I saw, on the table just behind me a number magazines and +books--books of unusual sizes and shapes, indicating that they +were not mere summer novels. + +"They like books!" I said to myself, with a sudden rise of +spirits. + +"I have tried magnolias, too," said the man, "but this is the +only one that has been really successful. It is a Chinese white +magnolia." + +"The one Downing describes?" I asked. + +This was also a random shot, but I conjectured that if they loved +both books gardens they would know Downing--Bible of the +gardener. And if they did, we belonged to the same church. + +"The very same," exclaimed the woman; "it was Downing's +enthusiasm for the Chinese magnolia which led us first to try +it." + +With that, like true disciples, we fell into great talk of +Downing, at first all in praise of him, and later--for may not +the faithful be permitted latitude in their comments so long as +it is all within the cloister?--we indulged in a bit of higher +criticism. + +"It won't do," said the man, "to follow too slavishly every +detail of practice as recommended by Downing. We have learned a +good many things since the forties." + +"The fact is," I said, "no literal-minded man should be trusted +with Downing." + +"Any more than with the Holy Scriptures," exclaimed the woman. + +"Exactly!" I responded with the greatest enthusiasm; "exactly! We +go to him for inspiration, for fundamental teachings, for the +great literature and poetry of the art. Do you remember," I +asked, "that passage in which Downing quotes from some old +Chinaman upon the true secret of the pleasures of a garden--?" + +"Do we?" exclaimed the man, jumping up instantly; "do we? Just +let me get the book--" + +With that he went into the house and came back immediately +bringing a lamp in one hand--for it had grown pretty dark--and a +familiar, portly, blue-bound book in the other. While he was gone +the woman said: + +"You have touched Mr. Vedder in his weakest spot." + +"I know of no combination in this world," said I, "so certain to +produce a happy heart as good books and a farm or garden." + +Mr. Vedder, having returned, slipped on his spectacles, sat +forward on the edge of his rocking-chair, and opened the book +with pious hands. + +"I'll find it," he said. "I can put my finger right on it." + +"You'll find it," said Mrs. Vedder, "in the chapter on +'Hedges.'" + +"You are wrong, my dear," he responded, "it is in 'Mistakes of +Citizens in Country Life.'" + + +He turned the leaves eagerly. + +"No," he said, "here it is in 'Rural Taste.' Let me read you the +passage, Mr.--" + +"Grayson." + +"--Mr. Grayson. The Chinaman's name was Lieu-tscheu. 'What is +it,' asks this old Chinaman, 'that we seek in the pleasure of a +garden? It has always been agreed that these plantations should +make men amends for living at a distance from what would be their +more congenial and agreeable dwelling-place--in the midst of +nature, free and unrestrained.'" + +"That's it," I exclaimed, "and the old Chinaman was right! A +garden excuses civilization." + +"It's what brought us here," said Mrs. Vedder. + +With that we fell into the liveliest discussion of gardening and +farming and country life in all their phases, resolving that +while there were bugs and blights, and droughts and floods, yet +upon the whole there was no life so completely satisfying as life +in which one may watch daily the unfolding of natural life. + +A hundred things we talked about freely that had often risen +dimly in my own mind almost to the point--but not quite--of +spilling over into articulate form. The marvellous thing about +good conversation is that it brings to birth so many +half-realized thoughts of our own--besides sowing the seed of +innumerable other thought-plants. How they enjoyed their garden, +those two, and not only the garden itself, but all the lore and +poetry of gardening! + +We had been talking thus an hour or more when, quite +unexpectedly, I had what was certainly one of the most amusing +adventures of my whole life. I can scarcely think of it now +without a thrill of pleasure. I have had pay for my work in many +but never such a reward as this. + +"By the way," said Mr. Vedder, "I have recently come across a +book which is full of the spirit of the garden as we have long +known it, although the author is not treating directly of +gardens, but of farming and of human nature." + +"It is really all one subject," I interrupted. + +"Certainly," said Mr. Vedder, "but many gardeners are nothing but +gardeners. Well, the book to which I refer is called 'Adventures +in Contentment,' and is by--Why, a man of your own name!" + +With that Mr. Vedder reached for a book--a familiar-looking +book--on the table, but Mrs. Vedder looked at me. I give you my +word, my heart turned entirely over, and in a most remarkable way +righted itself again; and I saw Roman candles and Fourth of July +rockets in front of my eyes. Never in all my experience was I so +completely bowled over. I felt like a small boy who has been +caught in the pantry with one hand in the jam-pot--and plenty of +jam on his nose. And like that small boy I enjoyed the jam, but +did not like being caught at it. + +Mr. Vedder had no sooner got the book in his hand than I saw Mrs. +Vedder rising as though she had seen a spectre, and pointing +dramatically at me, she exclaimed: + +"You are David Grayson!" + +I can say truthfully now that I know how the prisoner at the bar +must feel when the judge, leaning over his desk, looks at him +sternly and says: + +"I declare you guilty of the offence as charged, and sentence +you--" and so on, and so on. + +Mr. Vedder stiffened up, and I can see him yet looking at me +through his glasses. I must have looked as foolishly guilty as +any man ever looked, for Mr. Vedder said promptly: + +"Let me take you by the hand, sir. We know you, and have known +you for a long time." + +I shall not attempt to relate the conversation which followed, +nor tell of the keen joy I had in it--after the first cold +plunge. We found that we had a thousand common interests and +enthusiasms. I had to tell them of my farm, and why I had left it +temporarily, and of the experiences on the road. No sooner had I +related what had befallen me at the Stanleys' than Mrs. Vedder +disappeared into the house and came out again presently with a +tray loaded with cold meat, bread, a pitcher of fine milk, and +other good things. + +"I shall not offer any excuses," said I, "I'm hungry," and with +that I laid in, Mr. Vedder helping with the milk, and all three +of us talking as fast as ever we could. + +It was nearly midnight when at last Mr. Vedder led the way to +the immaculate little bedroom where I spent the night. + +The next morning I awoke early, and quietly dressing, slipped +down to the garden and walked about among the trees and the +shrubs and the flower-beds. The sun was just coming up over the +hill, the air was full of the fresh odours of morning, and the +orioles and cat-birds were singing. + +In the back of the garden I found a charming rustic arbour with +seats around a little table. And here I sat down to listen to the +morning concert, and I saw, cut or carved upon the table, this +verse, which so pleased me that I copied it in my book: + +A garden is a lovesome thing, God wot! +Rose plot, +Fringed pool, +Ferned grot-- +The veriest school of peace; and yet +the fool +Contends that God is not-- +Not God! in gardens? when the even +is cool? +Nay, but I have a sign, +'Tis very sure God walks in mine. + +I looked about after copying this verse, and said aloud: + +"I like this garden: I like these Vedders." + +And with that I had a moment of wild enthusiasm. + +"I will come," I said, "and buy a little garden next them, and +bring Harriet, and we will live here always. What's a farm +compared with a friend?" + +But with that I thought of the Scotch preacher, and of Horace, +and Mr. and Mrs. Starkweather, and I knew I could never leave the +friends at home. + +"It's astonishing how many fine people there are in this world," +I said aloud; "one can't escape them!" + +"Good morning, David Grayson," I heard some one saying, and +glancing up I saw Mrs. Vedder at the doorway. "Are you hungry?" + +"I am always hungry," I said. + +Mr. Vedder came out and linking his arm in mine and pointing out +various spireas and Japanese barberries, of which he was very +proud, we walked into the house together. + +I did not think of it especially at time--Harriet says I never +see anything really worth while, by which she means dishes, +dresses, doilies, and such like but as I remembered afterward the +table that Mrs. Vedder set was wonderfully dainty--dainty not +merely with flowers (with which it was loaded), but with the +quality of the china and silver. It was plainly the table of no +ordinary gardener or caretaker--but this conclusion did not come +to me until afterward, for as I remember it, we were in a deep +discussion of fertilizers. + +Mrs. Vedder cooked and served breakfast herself, and did it with +a skill almost equal to Harriet's--so skillfully that the talk +went on and we never once heard the machinery of service. + +After breakfast we all went out into the garden, Mrs. Vedder in +an old straw hat and a big apron, and Mr. Vedder in a pair of old +brown overalls. Two men had appeared from somewhere, and were +digging in the vegetable garden. After giving them certain +directions Mr. Vedder and I both found five-tined forks and went +into the rose garden and began turning over the rich soil, while +Mrs. Vedder, with pruning-shears, kept near us, cutting out the +dead wood. + +It was one of the charming forenoons of my life. This pleasant +work, spiced with the most interesting conversation and +interrupted by a hundred little excursions into other parts of +the garden, to see this or that wonder of vegetation, brought us +to dinner-time before we fairly knew it. + +About the middle of the afternoon I made the next discovery. I +heard first the choking cough of a big motor-car in the country +road, and a moment later it stopped at our gate. I thought I saw +the Vedders exchanging significant glances. A number of merry +young people tumbled out, and an especially pretty girl of about +twenty came running through the garden. + +"Mother," she exclaimed, "you MUST come with us!" + +"I can't, I can't," said Mrs. Vedder, "the roses MUST be +pruned--and see! The azaleas are coming into bloom." + +With that she presented me to her daughter. + +And, then, shortly, for it could no longer be concealed, I +learned that Mr. and Mrs. Vedder were not the caretakers but the +owners of the estate and of the great house I had seen on the +hill. That evening, with an air almost of apology, they explained +to me how it all came about. + +"We first came out here," said Mrs. Vedder, "nearly twenty years +ago, and built the big house on the hill. But the more we came to +know of country life the more we wanted to get down into it. We +found it impossible up there--so many unnecessary things to see +to and care for--and we couldn't--we didn't see--" + +"The fact is," Mr. Vedder put in, "we were losing touch with each +other." + +"There is nothing like a big house," said Mrs. Vedder, "to +separate a man and his wife." + +"So we came down here," said Mr. Vedder, "built this little +cottage, and developed this garden mostly with our own hands. We +would have sold the big house long ago if it hadn't been for our +friends. They like it." + +"I have never heard a more truly romantic story," said I. + +And it WAS romantic: these fine people escaping from too many +possessions, too much property, to the peace and quietude of a +garden where they could be lovers again. + +"It seems, sometimes," said Mrs. Vedder, "that I never really +believed in God until we came down here--" + +"I saw the verse on the table in the arbour," said I. + +"And it is true," said Mr. Vedder. "We got a long, long way from +God for many years: here we seem to get back to Him." + +I had fully intended to take the road again that afternoon, but +how could any one leave such people as those? We talked again +late that night, but the next morning, at the leisurely Sunday +breakfast, I set my hour of departure with all the firmness I +could command. I left them, indeed, before ten o'clock that +forenoon. I shall never forget the parting. They walked with me +to the top of the hill, and there we stopped and looked back. We +could see the cottage half hidden among the trees, and the little +opening that the precious garden made. For a time we stood there +quite silent. + +"Do you remember," I said presently, "that character in Homer who +was a friend of men and lived in a house by the side of the road? +I shall always think of you as friends of men--you took in a +dusty traveller. And I shall never forget your house by the side +of the road." + +"The House by the Side of the Road--you have christened it anew, +David Grayson," exclaimed Mrs. Vedder. + +And so we parted like old friends, and I left them to return to +their garden, where "'tis very sure God walks." + + + +CHAPTER IV. I AM THE SPECTATOR OF A MIGHTY BATTLE, IN WHICH +CHRISTIAN MEETS APPOLLYON + +It is one of the prime joys of the long road that no two days are +ever remotely alike--no two hours even; and sometimes a day that +begins calmly will end with the most stirring events. + +It was thus, indeed, with that perfect spring Sunday, when I left +my friends, the Vedders, and turned my face again to the open +country. It began as quietly as any Sabbath morning of my life, +but what an end it had! I would have travelled a thousand miles +for the adventures which a bounteous road that day spilled +carelessly into my willing hands. + +I can give no adequate reason why it should be so, but there are +Sunday mornings in the spring--at least in our country-- which +seem to put on, like a Sabbath garment, an atmosphere of divine +quietude. Warm, soft, clear, but, above all, immeasurably serene. + +Such was that Sunday morning; and I was no sooner well afoot than +I yielded to the ingratiating mood of the day. Usually I am an +active walker, loving the sense of quick motion and the stir it +imparts to both body and mind, but that morning I found myself +loitering, looking widely about me, and enjoying the lesser and +quieter aspects of nature. It was a fine wooded country in which +I found myself, and I soon struck off the beaten road and took to +the forest and the fields. In places the ground was almost +covered with meadow-rue, like green shadows on the hillsides, not +yet in seed, but richly umbrageous. In the long green grass of +the meadows shone the yellow star-flowers, and the sweet-flags +were blooming along the marshy edges of the ponds. The violets +had disappeared, but they were succeeded by wild geraniums and +rank-growing vetches. + +I remember that I kept thinking from time to time, all the +forenoon, as my mind went back swiftly and warmly to the two fine +friends from whom I had so recently parted: + +How the Vedders would enjoy this! Or, I must tell the Vedders +that. And two or three times I found myself in animated +conversations with them in which I generously supplied all three +parts. It may be true for some natures, as Leonardo said, that +"if you are alone you belong wholly to yourself; if you have a +companion, you belong only half to yourself"; but it is certainly +not so with me. With me friendship never divides: it multiplies. +A friend always makes me more than I am, better than I am, bigger +than I am. We two make four, or fifteen, or forty. + +Well, I loitered through the fields and woods for a long time +that Sunday forenoon, not knowing in the least that Chance held +me close by the hand and was leading me onward to great events. I +knew, of course,that I had yet to find a place for the night, and +that this might be difficult on Sunday, and yet I spent that +forenoon as a man spends his immortal youth--with a glorious +disregard for the future. + + +Some time after noon--for the sun was high and the day was +growing much warmer --I turned from the road, climbed an inviting +little hill, and chose a spot in an old meadow in the shade of an +apple tree and there I lay down on the grass, and looked up into +the dusky shadows of the branches above me. I could feel the soft +airs on my face; I could hear the buzzing of bees in the meadow +flowers, and by turning my head just a little I could see the +slow fleecy clouds, high up, drifting across the perfect blue of +the sky. And the scent of the fields in spring!--he who has known +it, even once, may indeed die happy. + +Men worship God in various ways: it seemed to me that Sabbath +morning, as I lay quietly there in the warm silence of midday, +that I was truly worshipping God. That Sunday morning everything +about me seemed somehow to be a miracle--a miracle gratefully +accepted and explainable only by the presence of God. There was +another strange, deep feeling which I had that morning, which I +have had a few other times in my life at the rare heights of +experience--I hesitate always when I try to put down the deep, +deep things of the human heart--a feeling immeasurably real, that +if I should turn my head quickly I should indeed SEE that +Immanent Presence. . . . + +One of the few birds I know that sings through the long midday is +the vireo. The vireo sings when otherwise the woods are still. +You do not see him; you cannot find him; but you know he is +there. And his singing is wild, and shy, and mystical. Often it +haunts you like the memory of some former happiness. That day I +heard the vireo singing. . . . + +I don't know how long I lay there under the tree in the meadow, +but presently I heard, from no great distance, the sound of a +church-bell. It was ringing for the afternoon service which among +the farmers of this part of the country often takes the place, in +summer, of both morning and evening services. + +"I believe I'll go," I said, thinking first of all, I confess, of +the interesting people I might meet there. + +But when I sat up and looked about me the desire faded, and +rummaging in my bag I came across my tin whistle. Immediately I +began practising a tune called "Sweet Afton," which I had learned +when a boy; and, as I played, my mood changed swiftly, and I +began to smile at myself as a tragically serious person, and to +think of pat phrases with which to characterize the execrableness +of my attempts upon the tin whistle. I should have liked some one +near to joke with. + +Long ago I made a motto about boys: Look for a boy anywhere. +Never be surprised when you shake a cherry tree if a boy drops +out of it; never be disturbed when you think yourself in complete +solitude if you discover a boy peering out at you from a fence +corner. + +I had not been playing long before I saw two boys looking at me +from out of a thicket by the roadside; and a moment later two +others appeared. + +Instantly I switched into "Marching Through Georgia," and began +to nod my head and tap my toe in the liveliest fashion. Presently +one boy climbed up on the fence, then another, then a third. I +continued to play. The fourth boy, a little chap, ventured to +climb up on the fence. + +They were bright-faced, tow-headed lads, all in Sunday clothes. + +"It's hard luck," said I, taking my whistle from my lips, "to +have to wear shoes and stockings on a warm Sunday like this." + +"You bet it is!" said the bold leader. + +"In that case," said I, "I will play 'Yankee Doodle.'" + +I played. All the boys, including the little chap, came up around +me, and two of them sat down quite familiarly on the grass. I +never had a more devoted audience. I don't know what interesting +event might have happened next, for the bold leader, who stood +nearest, was becoming dangerously inflated with questions--I +don't know what might have happened had we not been interrupted +by the appearance of a Spectre in Black. It appeared before us +there in the broad daylight in the middle of a sunny afternoon +while we were playing "Yankee Doodle." First I saw the top of a +black hat rising over the rim of the hill. This was followed +quickly by a black tie, a long black coat, black trousers, and, +finally, black shoes. I admit I was shaken, but being a person +of iron nerve in facing such phenomena, I continued to play +"Yankee Doodle." In spite of this counter-attraction, toward +which all four boys turned uneasy glances, I held my audience. +The Black Spectre, with a black book under its arm, drew nearer. +Still I continued to play and nod my head and tap my toe. I felt +like some modern Pied Piper piping away the children of these +modern hills--piping them away from older people who could not +understand them. + +I could see an accusing look on the Spectre's face. I don't know +what put it into my head, and I had no sooner said it than I was sorry +for my levity, but the figure with the sad garments there in the +matchless and triumphant spring day affected me with a curious, +sharp impatience. Had any one the right to look out so dolefully +upon such a day and such a scene of simple happiness as this? So +I took my whistle from my lips and asked: + +"Is God dead?" + +I shall never forget the indescribable look of horror and +astonishment that swept over the young man's face. + +"What do you mean, sir?" he asked with an air of stern authority +which surprised me. His calling for the moment lifted him above +himself: it was the Church which spoke. + +I was on my feet in an instant, regretting the pain I had given +him; and yet it seemed worth while now, having made my +inadvertent remark, to show him frankly what lay in my mind. Such +things sometimes help men. + +"I meant no offence, sir," I said, "and I apologize for my +flummery, but when I saw you coming up the hill, looking so +gloomy and disconsolate on this bright day, as though you +disapproved of God's world, the question slipped out before I +knew it." + +My words evidently struck deep down into some disturbed inner +consciousness, for he asked--and his words seemed to slip out +before he thought: + +"Is THAT the way I impressed you?" + +I found my heart going out strongly toward him. "Here," I thought +to myself, "is a man in trouble." + +I took a good long look at him. He still a young man, though +worn-looking--and sad as I now saw it, rather than gloomy--with +the sensitive lips and the unworldly look one sees sometimes in +the faces of saints. His black coat was immaculately neat, but +the worn button-covers and the shiny lapels told their own +eloquent story. Oh, it seemed to me I knew him as well as if +every incident of his life were written plainly upon his high, +pale forehead! I have lived long in a country neighbourhood, and +I knew him--poor flagellant of the rural church--I knew how he +groaned under the sins of a Community too comfortably willing to +cast all its burdens on the Lord, or on the Lord's accredited +local representative. I inferred also the usual large family and +the low salary (scandalously unpaid) and the frequent moves from +place to place. + +Unconsciously heaving a sigh the young man turned partly aside +and said to me in a low, gentle voice: + +"You are detaining my boys from church." + +"I am very sorry," I said, "and I will detain them no longer," +and with that I put aside my whistle, took up my bag and moved +down the hill with them. + +"The fact is," I said, "when I heard your bell I thought of going +to church myself." + +"Did you?" he asked eagerly. "Did you?" + +I could see that my proposal of going to church had instantly +affected his spirits. Then he hesitated abruptly with a sidelong +glance at my bag and rusty clothing. I could see exactly what was +passing in his mind. + +"No," I said, smiling, as though answering a spoken question, "I +am not exactly what you would call a tramp." + +He flushed. + +"I didn't mean--I WANT you to come. That's what a church is for. +If I thought--" + +But he did not tell me what he thought; and, though he walked +quietly at my side, he was evidently deeply disturbed. Something +of his discouragement I sensed even then, and I don't think I was +ever sorrier for a man in my life than I was for him at that +moment. Talk about the suffering sinners! I wonder if they are to +be compared with the trials of the saints? + +So we approached the little white church, and caused, I am +certain, a tremendous sensation. Nowhere does the unpredictable, +the unusual, excite such confusion as in that settled +institution--the church. + +I left my bag in the vestibule, where I have no doubt it was the +object of much inquiring and suspicious scrutiny, and took my +place in a convenient pew. It was a small church with an odd air +of domesticity, and the proportion of old ladies and children in +the audience was pathetically large. As a ruddy, vigorous, +out-of-door person, with the dust of life upon him, I felt +distinctly out of place. + +I could pick out easily the Deacon, the Old Lady Who Brought +Flowers, the President of the Sewing Circle, and, above all, the +Chief Pharisee, sitting in his high place. The Chief +Pharisee--his name I learned was Nash, Mr. J. H. Nash (I did not +know then that I was soon to make his acquaintance)--the Chief +Pharisee looked as hard as nails, a middle-aged man with stiff +chin-whiskers, small round, sharp eyes, and a pugnacious jaw. + +"That man," said I to myself, "runs this church," and instantly I +found myself looking upon him as a sort of personification of the +troubles I had seen in the minister's eyes. + +I shall not attempt to describe the service in detail. There was +a discouraging droop and quaver in the singing, and the +mournful-looking deacon who passed the collection-plate seemed +inured to disappointment. The prayer had in it a note of +despairing appeal which fell like a cold hand upon one's living +soul. It gave one the impression that this was indeed a +miserable, dark, despairing world, which deserved to be +wrathfully destroyed, and that this miserable world was full of +equally miserable, broken, sinful, sickly people. + +The sermon was a little better, for somewhere hidden within him +this pale young man had a spark of the divine fire, but it was so +dampened by the atmosphere of the church that it never rose above +a pale luminosity. + +I found the service indescribably depressing. I had an impulse to +rise up and cry out--almost anything to shock these people into +opening their eyes upon real life. Indeed, though I hesitate +about setting it down here, I was filled for some time with the +liveliest imaginings of the following serio-comic enterprise: + +I would step up the aisle, take my place in front of the Chief +Pharisee, wag my finger under his nose, and tell him a thing or +two about the condition of the church. + +"The only live thing here," I would tell him, "is the spark in +that pale minister's soul; and you're doing your best to smother +that." + +And I fully made up my mind that when he answered back in his +chief-pharisaical way I would gently--but firmly remove him from +his seat, shake him vigorously two or three times (men's souls +have often been saved with less!), deposit him flat in the aisle, +and yes--stand on him while I elucidated the situation to the +audience at large. While I confined this amusing and interesting +project to the humours of the imagination I am still convinced +that something of the sort would have helped enormously in +clearing up the religious and moral atmosphere of the place. + +I had a wonderful sensation of relief when at last I stepped out +again into the clear afternoon sunshine and got a reviving +glimpse of the smiling green hills and the quiet fields and the +sincere trees--and felt the welcome of the friendly road. + +I would have made straight for the hills, but the thought of that +pale minister held me back; and I waited quietly there under the +trees till he came out. He was plainly looking for me, and asked +me to wait and walk along with him, at which his four boys, whose +acquaintance I had made under such thrilling circumstances +earlier in the day, seemed highly delighted, and waited with me +under the tree and told me a hundred important things about a +certain calf, a pig, a kite, and other things at home. + +Arriving at the minister's gate, I was invited in with a +whole-heartedness that was altogether charming. The minister's +wife, a faded-looking woman who had once possessed a delicate +sort of prettiness, was waiting for us on the steps with a fine +chubby baby on her arm--number five. + +The home was much the sort of place I had imagined--a small house +undesirably located (but cheap!), with a few straggling acres of +garden and meadow upon which the minister and his boys were +trying with inexperienced hands to piece out their inadequate +living. At the very first glimpse of the garden I wanted to throw +off my coat and go at it. + +And yet--and yet---what a wonderful thing love is! There was, +after all, something incalculable, something pervasively +beautiful about this poor household. The moment the minister +stepped inside his own door he became a different and livelier +person. Something boyish crept into his manner, and a new look +came into the eyes of his faded wife that made her almost pretty +again. And the fat, comfortable baby rolled and gurgled about on +the floor as happily as though there had been two nurses and a +governess to look after him. As for the four boys, I have never +seen healthier or happier ones. + +I sat with them at their Sunday-evening luncheon. As the minister +bowed his head to say grace I felt him clasp my hand on one side +while the oldest boy clasped my hand on the other, and thus, +linked together, and accepting the stranger utterly, the family +looked up to God. + +There was a fine, modest gayety about the meal. In front of Mrs. +Minister stood a very large yellow bowl filled with what she +called rusk--a preparation unfamiliar to me, made by browning and +crushing the crusts of bread and then rolling them down into a +coarse meal. A bowl of this, with sweet, rich, yellow milk (for +they kept their own cow), made one of the most appetizing dishes +that ever I ate. It was downright good: it gave one the unalloyed +aroma of the sweet new milk and the satisfying taste of the crisp +bread. + +Nor have I ever enjoyed a more perfect hospitality. I have been +in many a richer home where there was not a hundredth part of the +true gentility--the gentility of unapologizing simplicity and +kindness. + +And after it was over and cleared away--the minister himself +donning a long apron and helping his wife--and the chubby baby +put to bed, we all sat around the table in the gathering +twilight. + +I think men perish sometimes from sheer untalked talk. For lack +of a creative listener they gradually fill up with unexpressed +emotion. Presently this emotion begins to ferment, and +finally--bang!--they blow up, burst, disappear in thin air. In +all that community I suppose there was no one but the little +faded wife to whom the minister dared open his heart, and I think +he found me a godsend. All I really did was to look from one to +the other and put in here and there an inciting comment or ask an +understanding question. After he had told me his situation and +the difficulties which confronted him and his small church, he +exclaimed suddenly: + +"A minister should by rights be a leader, not only inside of his +church, but outside it in the community." + +"You are right," I exclaimed with great earnestness; "you are +right." + +And with that I told him of our own Scotch preacher and how he +led and moulded our community; and as I talked I could see him +actually growing, unfolding, under my eyes. + +"Why," said I, "you not only ought to be the moral leader of this +community, but you are!" + +"That's what I tell him," exclaimed his wife. + +"But he persists in thinking, doesn't he, that he is a poor +sinner?" + +"He thinks it too much," she laughed. + +"Yes, yes," he said, as much to himself as to us, "a minister +ought to be a fighter!" + +It was beautiful, the boyish flush which now came into his face +and the light that came into his eyes. I should never have +identified him with the Black Spectre of the afternoon. + +"Why," said I, "you ARE a fighter; you're fighting the greatest +battle in the world today--the only real battle--the battle for +the spiritual view of life." + +Oh, I knew exactly what was the trouble with his religion--at +least the religion which, under the pressure of that church he +felt obliged to preach! It was the old, groaning, denying, +resisting religion. It was the sort of religion which sets a man +apart and assures him that the entire universe in the guise of +the Powers of Darkness is leagued against him. What he needed was +a reviving draught of the new faith which affirms, accepts, +rejoices, which feels the universe triumphantly behind it. And so +whenever the minister told me what he ought to be--for he too +sensed the new impulse--I merely told him he was just that. He +needed only this little encouragement to unfold. + +"Yes," said he again, "I am the real moral leader here." + +At this I saw Mrs. Minister nodding her head vigorously. + +"It's you," she said, "and not Mr. Nash, who should lead this +community." + +How a woman loves concrete applications. She is your only true +pragmatist. If a philosophy will not work, says she, why bother +with it? + +The minister rose quickly from his chair, threw back his head, +and strode quickly up and down the room. + +"You are right," said he; "and I WILL lead it. I'll have my +farmers' meetings as I planned." + +It may have been the effect of the lamplight, but it seemed to me +that little Mrs. Minister, as she glanced up at him, looked +actually pretty. + +The minister continued to stride up and down the room with his +chin in the air. + +"Mr. Nash," said she in a low voice to me, "is always trying to +hold him down and keep him back. My husband WANTS to do the great +things"--wistfully. + +"By every right," the minister was repeating, quite oblivious of +our presence, "I should lead these people." + +"He sees the weakness of the church," she continued, "as well as +any one, and he wants to start some vigorous community work--have +agricultural meetings and boys' clubs, and lots of things like +that--but Mr. Nash says it is no part of a minister's work: that +it cheapens religion. He says that when a parson--Mr. Nash always +calls him parson, and I just LOATHE that name --has preached, and +prayed, and visited the sick, that's enough for HIM." + +At this very moment a step sounded upon the walk, and an instant +later a figure appeared in the doorway. + +"Why, Mr. Nash," exclaimed little Mrs. Minister, exhibiting that +astonishing gift of swift recovery which is the possession of +even the simplest women, "come right in." + +It was some seconds before the minister could come down from the +heights and greet Mr. Nash. As for me, I was never more +interested in my life. + +"Now," said I to myself, "we shall see Christian meet Apollyon." + +As soon as Mrs. Minister lighted the lamp I was introduced to the +great man. He looked at me sharply with his small, round eyes, +and said: + +"Oh, you are the--the man who was in church this afternoon." + +I admitted it, and he looked around at the minister with an +accusing expression. He evidently did not approve of me, nor +could I wholly blame him, for I knew well how he, as a rich +farmer, must look upon a rusty man of the road like me. I should +have liked dearly to cross swords with him myself, but greater +events were imminent. + +In no time at all the discussion, which had evidently been broken +off at some previous meeting, concerning the proposed farmers' +assembly at the church, had taken on a really lively tone. Mr. +Nash was evidently in the somewhat irritable mood with which +important people may sometimes indulge themselves, for he bit off +his words in a way that was calculated to make any but an +unusually meek and saintly man exceedingly uncomfortable. But the +minister, with the fine, high humility of those whose passion is +for great or true things, was quite oblivious to the harsh words. +Borne along by an irresistible enthusiasm, he told in glowing +terms what his plan would mean to the community, how the people +needed a new social and civic spirit--a "neighbourhood religious +feeling" he called it. And as he talked his face flushed, and his +eyes shone with the pure fire of a great purpose. But I could see +that all this enthusiasm impressed the practical Mr. Nash as mere +moonshine. He grew more and more uneasy. Finally he brought his +hand down with a resounding thwack upon his knee, and said in a +high, cutting voice: + +"I don't believe in any such newfangled nonsense. It ain't none +of a parson's business what the community does. You're hired, +ain't you, an' paid to run the church? That's the end of it. We +ain't goin' to have any mixin' of religion an' farmin' in THIS +neighbourhood." + +My eyes were on the pale man of God. I felt as though a human +soul were being weighed in the balance. What would he do now? +What was he worth REALLY as a man as well as a minister? + +He paused a moment with downcast eyes. I saw little Mrs. Minister +glance at him--once--wistfully. He rose from his place, drew +himself up to his full height--I shall not soon forget the look +on his face--and uttered these amazing words: + +"Martha, bring the ginger-jar." + +Mrs. Minister, without a word, went to a little cupboard on the +farther side of the room and took down a brown earthenware jar, +which she brought over and placed on the table, Mr. Nash +following her movements with astonished eyes. No one spoke. + +The minister took the jar in his hands as he might the +communion-cup just before saying the prayer of the sacrament. + +"Mr. Nash," said he in a loud voice, "I've decided to hold that +farmers' meeting." + +Before Mr. Nash could reply the minister seated himself and was +pouring out the contents of the jar upon the table--a clatter of +dimes, nickels, pennies, a few quarters and half dollars, and a +very few bills. + +"Martha, just how much money is there?" + +"Twenty-four dollars and sixteen cents." + +The minister put his hand into his pocket and, after counting out +certain coins, said: + +"Here's one dollar and eighty-four cents more. That makes +twenty-six dollars. Now, Mr. Nash, you're the largest contributor +to my salary in this neighbourhood. You gave twenty-six dollars +last year--fifty cents a week. It is a generous contribution, but +I cannot take it any longer. It is fortunate that my wife has +saved up this money to buy a sewing-machine, so that we can pay +back your contribution in full." + +He paused; no one of us spoke a word. + +"Mr. Nash," he continued, and his face was good to see, "I am the +minister here. I am convinced that what the community needs is +more of a religious and social spirit, and I am going about +getting it in the way the Lord leads me." + +At this I saw Mrs. Minister look up at her husband with such a +light in her eyes as any man might well barter his life for--I +could not keep my own eyes from pure beauty of it. + +I knew too what this defiance meant. It meant that this little +family was placing its all upon the altar--even the pitiful coins +for which they had skimped and saved for months for a particular +purpose. Talk of the heroism of the men who charged with Pickett +at Gettysburg! Here was a courage higher and whiter than that; +here was a courage that dared to fight alone. + +As for Mr. Nash, the face of that Chief Pharisee was a study. +Nothing is so paralyzing to a rich man as to find suddenly that +his money will no longer command him any advantage. Like all +hard-shelled, practical people, Mr. Nash could only dominate in a +world which recognized the same material supremacy that he +recognized. Any one who insisted upon flying was lost to Mr. +Nash. + +The minister pushed the little pile of coins toward him. + +"Take it, Mr. Nash," said he. + +At that Mr. Nash rose hastily. + +"I will not," he said gruffly. + +He paused, and looked at the minister with a strange expression +in his small round eyes--was it anger, or was it fear, or could +it have been admiration? + +"If you want to waste your time on fiddlin' farmers' meetings--a +man that knows as little of farmin' as you do--why go ahead for +all o' me. But don't count me in." + +He turned, reached for his hat, and then went out of the door +into the darkness. + +For a moment we all sat perfectly silent, then the minister rose, +and said solemnly: + +"Martha, let's sing something." + +Martha crossed the room to the cottage organ and seated herself +on the stool. + +"What shall we sing?" said she. + +"Something with fight in it, Martha," he responded; "something +with plenty of fight in it." + +So we sang "Onward, Christian Soldier, Marching as to War," and +followed up with: + +Awake, my soul, stretch every nerve +And press with rigour on; +A heavenly race demands thy zeal +And an immortal crown. + + +When we had finished, and as Martha rose from her seat, the +minister impulsively put his hands on her shoulders, and said: + +"Martha, this is the greatest night of my life." + +He took a turn up and down the room, and then with an exultant +boyish laugh said: + +"We'll go to town to-morrow and pick out that sewing-machine!" + + +I remained with them that night and part of the following day, +taking a hand with them in the garden, but of the events of that +day I shall speak in another chapter. + + +CHAPTER V. I PLAY THE PART OF A SPECTACLE PEDDLER + +Yesterday was exactly the sort of a day I love best--a spicy, +unexpected, amusing day--crowned with a droll adventure. + +I cannot account for it, but it seems to me I take the road each +morning with a livelier mind and keener curiosity. If you were to +watch me narrowly these days you would see I am slowly shedding +my years. I suspect that some one of the clear hill streams from +which I have been drinking (lying prone on my face) was in +reality the fountain of eternal youth. I shall not go back to +see. + +It seems to me, when I feel like this, that in every least thing +upon the roadside, or upon the hill, lurks the stuff of +adventure. What a world it is! A mile south of here I shall find +all that Stanley found in the jungles of Africa; a mile north I +am Peary at the Pole! + +You there, brown-clad farmer on the tall seat of your wagon, +driving townward with a red heifer for sale, I can show you that +life --your life--is not all a gray smudge, as you think it is, +but crammed, packed, loaded with miraculous things. I can show +you wonders past belief in your own soul. I can easily convince +you that you are in reality a poet, a hero, a true lover, a +saint. + +It is because we are not humble enough in the presence of the +divine daily fact that adventure knocks so rarely at our door. A +thousand times I have had to learn this truth (what lesson so +hard to learn as the lesson of humility!) and I suppose I shall +have to learn it a thousand times more. This very day, straining +my eyes to see the distant wonders of the mountains, I nearly +missed a miracle by the roadside. + +Soon after leaving the minister and his family--I worked with +them in their garden with great delight most of the forenoon--I +came, within a mile--to the wide white turnpike--the Great Road. + +Now, I usually prefer the little roads, the little, unexpected, +curving, leisurely country roads. The sharp hills, the pleasant +deep valleys, the bridges not too well kept, the verdure deep +grown along old fences, the houses opening hospitably at the very +roadside, all these things I love. They come to me with the same +sort of charm and flavour, only vastly magnified, which I find +often in the essays of the older writers--those leisurely old +fellows who took time to write, REALLY write. The important thing +to me about a road, as about life--and literature, is not that it +goes anywhere, but that it is livable while it goes. For if I +were to arrive--and who knows that I ever shall arrive?--I think +I should be no happier than I am here. + +Thus I have commonly avoided the Great White Road--the broad, +smooth turnpike--rock-bottomed and rolled by a State--without so +much as a loitering curve to whet one's curiosity, nor a thank- +you-ma'am to laugh over, nor a sinful hill to test your +endurance--not so much as a dreamy valley! It pursues its hard, +unshaded, practical way directly from some particular place to +some other particular place and from time to time a motor-car +shoots in at one end of it and out at the other, leaving its dust +to settle upon quiet travellers like me. + +Thus to-day when I came to the turnpike I was at first for making +straight across it and taking to the hills beyond, but at that +very moment a motor-car whirled past me as I stood there and a +girl with a merry face waved her hand at me. I lifted my hat in +return--and as I watched them out of sight I felt a curious new +sense of warmth and friendliness there in the Great Road. + +"These are just people, too," I said aloud --"and maybe they +really like it!" + +And with that I began laughing at myself, and at the whole, big, +amazing, interesting world. Here was I pitying them for their +benighted state, and there were they, no doubt, pitying me for +mine! + +And with that pleasant and satisfactory thought in my mind and a +song in my throat I swung into the Great Road. + +"It doesn't matter in the least," said I to myself, "whether a +man takes hold of life by the great road or the little ones so +long as he takes hold." + +And oh, it was a wonderful day! A day with movement in it; a day +that flowed! In every field the farmers were at work, the cattle +fed widely in the meadows, and the Great Road itself was alive +with a hundred varied sorts of activity. Light winds stirred the +tree-tops and rippled in the new grass; and from the thickets I +heard the blackbirds crying. Everything animate and inanimate, +that morning, seemed to have its own clear voice and to cry out +at me for my interest, or curiosity, or sympathy. Under such +circumstances it could not have been long--nor was it +long--before I came plump upon the first of a series of odd +adventures. + + +A great many people, I know, abominate the roadside sign. It +seems to them a desecration of nature, the intrusion of rude +commercialism upon the perfection of natural beauty. But not I. I +have no such feeling. Oh, the signs in themselves are often rude +and unbeautiful, and I never wished my own barn or fences to sing +the praises of swamp root or sarsaparilla--and yet there is +something wonderfully human about these painted and pasted +vociferations of the roadside signs; and I don't know why they +are less "natural" in their way than a house or barn or a planted +field of corn. They also tell us about life. How eagerly they +cry out at us, "Buy me, buy me!" What enthusiasm they have in +their own concerns, what boundless faith in themselves! How they +speak of the enormous energy, activity, resourcefulness of human +kind! + +Indeed, I like all kinds of signs. The autocratic warnings of the +road, the musts and the must-nots of traffic, I observe in +passing; and I often stand long at the crossings and look up at +the finger-posts, and consider my limitless wealth as a +traveller. By this road I may, at my own pleasure, reach the +Great City; by that--who knows?--the far wonders of Cathay. And I +respond always to the appeal which the devoted pilgrim paints on +the rocks at the roadside: "Repent ye, for the kingdom of God is +at hand," and though I am certain that the kingdom of God is +already here, I stop always and repent--just a little--knowing +that there is always room for it. At the entrance of the little +towns, also, or in the squares of the villages, I stop often to +read the signs of taxes assessed, or of political meetings; I see +the evidences of homes broken up in the notices of auction sales, +and of families bereaved in the dry and formal publications of +the probate court. I pause, too, before the signs of amusements +flaming red and yellow on the barns (boys, the circus is coming +to town!), and I pause also, but no longer, to read the silent +signs carved in stone in the little cemeteries as I pass. +Symbols, you say? Why, they're the very stuff of life. If you +cannot see life here in the wide road, you will never see it at +all. + +Well, I saw a sign yesterday at the roadside that I never saw +anywhere before. It was not a large sign--indeed rather +inconspicuous--consisting of a single word rather crudely painted +in black (as by an amateur) upon a white board. It was nailed to +a tree where those in swift passing cars could not avoid seeing +it: + +[ REST ] + +I cannot describe the odd sense of enlivenment, of pleasure I had +when I saw this new sign. + +"Rest!" I exclaimed aloud. "Indeed I will," and I sat down on a +stone not far away. + +"Rest!" + +What a sign for this very spot! Here in the midst of the haste +and hurry of the Great Road a quiet voice was saying,"Rest." Some +one with imagination, I thought, evidently put that up; some +quietist offering this mild protest against the breathless +progress of the age. How often I have felt the same way +myself--as though I were being swept onward through life faster +than I could well enjoy it. For nature passes the dishes far more +rapidly than we can help ourselves. + +Or perhaps, thought I, eagerly speculating, this may be only some +cunning advertiser with rest for sale (in these days even rest +has its price), thus piquing the curiosity of the traveller for +the disclosure which he will make a mile or so farther on. Or +else some humourist wasting his wit upon the Fraternity of the +Road, too willing (like me, perhaps) to accept his ironical +advice. But it would be well worth while should I find him, to +see him chuckle behind his hand. + +So I sat there very much interested, for a long time, even +framing a rather amusing picture in my own mind of the sort of +person who painted these signs, deciding finally that he must be +a zealot rather than a trader or humourist. (Confidentially, I +could not make a picture of him in which he was not endowed with +plentiful long hair). As I walked onward again, I decided that in +any guise I should like to see him, and I enjoyed thinking what I +should say if I met him. A mile farther up the road I saw another +sign exactly like the first. + +"Here he is again," I said exultantly, and that sign being +somewhat nearer the ground I was able to examine it carefully +front and back, but it bore no evidence of its origin. + +In the next few miles I saw two other signs with nothing on them +but the word "Rest." + +Now this excellent admonition--like much of the excellent +admonitions in this world-- affected me perversely: it made me +more restless than ever. I felt that I could not rest properly +until I found out who wanted me to rest, and why. It opened +indeed a limitless vista for new adventure. + + +Presently, away ahead of me in the road, I saw a man standing +near a one-horse wagon. He seemed to be engaged in some activity +near the roadside, but I could not tell exactly what. As I +hastened nearer I discovered that he was a short, strongly built, +sun-bronzed man in working-clothes--and with the shortest of +short hair. I saw him take a shovel from the wagon and begin +digging. He was the road-worker. + +I asked the road-worker if he had seen the curious signs. He +looked up at me with a broad smile (he had good-humoured, very +bright blue eyes). + +"Yes," he said, "but they ain't for me." + +"Then you don't follow the advice they give?" + +"Not with a section like mine," said he, and he straightened up +and looked first one way of the road and then the other. "I have +from Grabow Brook, but not the bridge, to the top o' Sullivan +Hill, and all the culverts between, though two of 'em are by +rights bridges. And I claim that's a job for any full-grown man." + +He began shovelling again in the road as if to prove how busy he +was. There had been a small landslide from an open cut on one +side and a mass of gravel and small boulders lay scattered on the +smooth macadam. I watched him for a moment. I love to watch the +motions of vigorous men at work, the easy play of the muscles, +the swing of the shoulders, the vigour of stoutly planted legs. +He evidently considered the conversation closed, and I, as--well, +as a dusty man of the road--easily dismissed. (You have no idea, +until you try it, what a weight of prejudice the man of the road +has to surmount before he is accepted on easy terms by the +ordinary members of the human race.) + +A few other well-intentioned observations on my part having +elicited nothing but monosyllabic replies, I put my bag down by +the roadside and, going up to the wagon, got out a shovel, and +without a word took my place at the other end of the landslide +and began to shovel for all I was worth. + +I said not a word to the husky road-worker and pretended not to +look at him, but I saw him well enough out of the corner of my +eye. He was evidently astonished and interested, as I knew he +would be: it was something entirely new on the road. He didn't +quite know whether to be angry, or amused, or sociable. I caught +him looking over at me several times, but I offered no response; +then he cleared his throat and said: + +"Where you from?" + +I answered with a monosyllable which I knew he could not quite +catch. Silence again for some time, during which I shovelled +valiantly and with great inward amusement. Oh, there is nothing +like cracking a hard human nut! I decided at that moment, to have +him invite me to supper. + +Finally, when I showed no signs of stopping my work, he himself +paused and leaned on his shovel. I kept right on. + +"Say, partner," said he, finally, "did YOU read those signs as +you come up the road?" + +"Yes," I said, "but they weren't for me, either. My section's a +long one, too." + +"Say, you ain't a road-worker, are you?" he asked eagerly. + +"Yes," said I, with a sudden inspiration, "that's exactly what I +am--a road-worker." + +"Put her there, then, partner," he said, with a broad smile on +his bronzed face. + +He and I struck hands, rested on our shovels (like old hands at +it), and looked with understanding into each other's eyes. We +both knew the trade and the tricks of the trade; all bars were +down between us. The fact is, we had both seen and profited by +the peculiar signs at the roadside. + +"Where's your section?" he asked easily. + +"Well," I responded after considering the question, "I have a +very long and hard section. It begins at a place called Prosy +Common--do you know it?--and reaches to the top of Clear Hill. +There are several bad spots on the way, I can tell you." + +"Don't know it," said the husky road-worker; "'tain't round here, +is it? In the town of Sheldon, maybe?" + +Just at this moment, perhaps fortunately, for there is nothing so +difficult to satisfy as the appetite of people for specific +information, a motor-car whizzed past, the driver holding up his +hand in greeting, and the road-worker and I responding in +accordance with the etiquette of the Great Road. + +"There he goes in the ruts again," said the husky road-worker. +"Why is it, I'd like to know, that every one wants to run in the +same identical track when they've got the whole wide road before +'em?" + +"That's what has long puzzled me, too," I said. "Why WILL people +continue to run in ruts?" + +"It don't seem to do no good to put up signs," said the +road-worker. + +"Very little indeed," said I. "The fact is, people have got to be +bumped out of the ruts they get into." + +"You're right," said he enthusiastically, and his voice dropped +into the tone of one speaking to a member of the inner guild. "I +know how to get 'em." + +"How?" I asked in an equally mysterious voice. + +"I put a stone or two in the ruts!" + +"Do you?" I exclaimed. "I've done that very thing myself--many a +time! Just place a good hard tru--I mean stone, with a bit of +common dust sprinkled over it, in the middle of the rut, and +they'll look out for THAT rut for some time to come." + +"Ain't it gorgeous," said the husky road-worker, chuckling +joyfully, "to see 'em bump?" + +"It is," said I--"gorgeous." + +After that, shovelling part of the time in a leisurely way, and +part of the time responding to the urgent request of the signs by +the roadside (it pays to advertise!), the husky road-worker and I +discussed many great and important subjects, all, however, +curiously related to roads. Working all day long with his old +horse, removing obstructions, draining out the culverts, filling +ruts and holes with new stone, and repairing the damage of rain +and storm, the road-worker was filled with a world of practical +information covering roads and road-making. And having learned +that I was of the same calling, we exchanged views with the +greatest enthusiasm. It was astonishing to see how nearly in +agreement we were as to what constituted an ideal road. + +"Almost everything," said he, "depends on depth. If you get a +good solid foundation, the' ain't anything that can break up +your road." + +"Exactly what I have discovered," I responded. "Get down to +bedrock and do an honest job of building." + +"And don't have too many sharp turns." + +"No," said I, "long, leisurely curves are best--all through life. +You have observed that nearly all the accidents on the road are +due to sharp turnings." + +"Right you are!" he exclaimed. + +"A man who tries to turn too sharply on his way nearly always +skids." + +"Or else turns turtle in the ditch." + +But it was not until we reached the subject of oiling that we +mounted to the real summit of enthusiastic agreement. Of all +things on the road, or above the road, or in the waters under the +road, there is nothing that the road-worker dislikes more than +oil. + +"It's all right," said he, "to use oil for surfacin' and to keep +down the dust. You don't need much and it ain't messy. But +sometimes when you see oil pumped on a road, you know that either +the contractor has been jobbin', or else the road's worn out and +ought to be rebuilt." + +"That's exactly what I've found," said I. "Let a road become +almost impassable with ruts and rocks and dust, and immediately +some man says, 'Oh, it's all right--put on a little oil--'" + +"That's what our supervisor is always sayin'," said the +road-worker. + +"Yes," I responded, "it usually is the supervisor. He lives by +it. He wants to smooth over the defects, he wants to lay the dust +that every passerby kicks up, he tries to smear over the truth +regarding conditions with messy and ill-smelling oil. Above +everything, he doesn't want the road dug up and rebuilt--says it +will interfere with traffic, injure business, and even set people +to talking about changing the route entirely! Oh, haven't I seen +it in religion, where they are doing their best to oil up roads +that are entirely worn out--and as for politics, is not the cry +of the party-roadster and the harmony-oilers abroad in the land?" + +In the excited interest with which this idea now bore me along I +had entirely forgotten the existence of my companion, and as I +now glanced at him I saw him standing with a curious look of +astonishment and suspicion on his face. I saw that I had +unintentionally gone a little too far. So I said abruptly: + +"Partner, let's get a drink. I'm thirsty." + +He followed me, I thought a bit reluctantly, to a little brook +not far up the road where we had been once before. As we were +drinking, silently, I looked at the stout young fellow standing +there, and I thought to myself: + +What a good, straightforward young fellow he is anyway, and how +thoroughly he knows his job. I thought how well he was equipped +with unilluminated knowledge, and it came to me whimsically, that +here was a fine bit of road-mending for me to do. + +Most people have sight, but few have insight; and as I looked +into the clear blue eyes of my friend I had a sudden swift +inspiration, and before I could repent of it I had said to him in +the most serious voice that I could command: + +"Friend, I am in reality a spectacle-peddler--" + +His glance shifted uncomfortably to my gray bag. + +"And I want to sell you a pair of spectacles," I said. "I see +that you are nearly blind." + +"Me blind!" + +It would be utterly impossible to describe the expression on his +face. His hand went involuntarily to his eyes, and he glanced +quickly, somewhat fearfully, about. + +"Yes, nearly blind," said I. "I saw it when I first met you. You +don't know it yourself yet, but I can assure you it is a bad +case." + +I paused, and shook my head slowly. If I had not been so much in +earnest, I think I should have been tempted to laugh outright. I +had begun my talk with him half jestingly, with the amusing idea +of breaking through his shell, but I now found myself +tremendously engrossed, and desired nothing in the world (at that +moment) so much as to make him see what I saw. I felt as though I +held a live human soul in my hand. + +"Say, partner," said the road-worker, "are you sure you aren't--" +He tapped his forehead and began to edge away. + +I did not answer his question at all, but continued, with my eyes +fixed on him: + +"It is a peculiar sort of blindness. Apparently, as you look +about, you see everything there is to see, but as a matter of +fact you see nothing in the world but this road--" + +"It's time that I was seein' it again then," said he, making as +if to turn back to work, but remaining with a disturbed +expression on his countenance. + +"The Spectacles I have to sell," said I, "are powerful +magnifiers"--he glanced again at the gray bag. "When you put them +on you will see a thousand wonderful things besides the road--" + +"Then you ain't road-worker after all!" he said, evidently trying +to be bluff and outright with me. + + +Now your substantial, sober, practical American will stand only +about so much verbal foolery; and there is nothing in the world +that makes him more uncomfortable--yes, downright mad!-- than to +feel that he is being played with. I could see that I had nearly +reached the limit with him, and that if I held him now it must be +by driving the truth straight home. So I stepped over toward him +and said very earnestly: + +"My friend, don't think I am merely joking you. I was never more +in earnest in all my life. When I told you I was a road-worker I +meant it, but I had in mind the mending of other kinds of roads +than this." + +I laid my hand on his arm, and explained to him as directly and +simply as English words could do it, how, when he had spoken of +oil for his roads, I thought of another sort of oil for another +sort of roads, and when he spoke of curves in his roads I was +thinking of curves in the roads I dealt with, and I explained to +him what my roads were. I have never seen a man more intensely +interested: he neither moved nor took his eyes from my face. + +"And when I spoke of selling you a pair of spectacles," said I, +"it was only a way of telling you how much I wanted to make you +see my kinds of roads as well as your own." + +I paused, wondering if, after all, he could be made to see. I +know now how the surgeon must feel at the crucial moment of his +accomplished operation. Will the patient live or die? + +The road-worker drew a long breath as he came out from under the +anesthetic. + +"I guess, partner," said he, "you're trying to put a stone or two +in my ruts!" + +I had him! + +"Exactly," I exclaimed eagerly. + +We both paused. He was the first to speak--with some +embarrassment: + +"Say, you're just like a preacher I used to know when I was a +kid. He was always sayin' things that meant something else and +when you found out what he was drivin' at you always felt kind of +queer in your insides." + +I laughed. + +"It's a mighty good sign," I said, "when a man begins to feel +queer in the insides. It shows that something is happening to +him." + +With that we walked back to the road, feeling very close and +friendly--and shovelling again, not saying much. After quite a +time, when we had nearly cleaned up the landslide, I heard the +husky road-worker chuckling to himself; finally, straightening +up, he said: + +"Say, there's more things in a road than ever I dreamt of." + +"I see," said I, "that the new spectacles are a good fit." + +The road-worker laughed long and loud. + +"You're a good one, all right," he said. "I see what YOU mean. I +catch your point." + +"And now that you've got them on," said I, "and they are serving +you so well, I'm not going to sell them to you at all. I'm going +to present them to you--for I haven't seen anybody in a long time +that I've enjoyed meeting more than I have you." + +We nurse a fiction that people love to cover up their feelings; +but I have learned that if the feeling is real and deep they love +far better to find a way to uncover it. + +"Same here," said the road-worker simply, but with a world of +genuine feeling in his voice. + +Well, when it came time to stop work the road-worker insisted +that I get in and go home with him. + +"I want you to see my wife and kids," said he. + +The upshot of it was that I not only remained for supper--and a +good supper it was--but I spent the night in his little home, +close at the side of the road near the foot of a fine hill. And +from time to time all night long, it seemed to me, I could hear +the rush of cars going by in the smooth road outside, and +sometimes their lights flashed in at my window, and sometimes I +heard them sound their brassy horns. + +I wish I could tell more of what I saw there, of the garden back +of the house, and of all the road-worker and his wife told me of +their simple history--but, the road calls! + +When I set forth early this morning the road-worker followed me +out to the smooth macadam (his wife standing in the doorway with +her hands rolled in her apron) and said to me, a bit shyly: + +"I'll be more sort o'--sort o' interested in roads since I've +seen you." + +"I'll be along again some of these days," said I, laughing, "and +I'll stop in and show you my new stock of spectacles. Maybe I can +sell you another pair!" + +"Maybe you kin," and he smiled a broad, understanding smile. + +Nothing brings men together like having a joke in common. + +So I walked off down the road--in the best of spirits--ready for +the events of another day. + +It will surely be a great adventure, one of these days, to come +this way again--and to visit the Stanleys, and the Vedders, and +the Minister, and drop in and sell another pair of specs to the +Road-worker. It seems to me I have a wonderfully rosy future +ahead of me! + + +P. S.--I have not yet found out who painted the curious signs; +but I am not as uneasy about it as I was. I have seen two more of +them already this morning--and find they exert quite a +psychological influence. + + + +CHAPTER VI. AN EXPERIMENT IN HUMAN NATURE + +In the early morning after I left the husky road-mender (wearing +his new spectacles), I remained steadfastly on the Great Road or +near it. It was a prime spring day, just a little hazy, as though +promising rain, but soft and warm. + +"They will be working in the garden at home," I thought, "and +there will be worlds of rhubarb and asparagus." Then I remembered +how the morning sunshine would look on the little vine-clad back +porch (reaching halfway up the weathered door) of my own house +among the hills. + +It was the first time since my pilgrimage began that I had +thought with any emotion of my farm--or of Harriet. + +And then the road claimed me again, and I began to look out for +some further explanation of the curious sign, the single word +"Rest," which had interested me so keenly on the preceding day. +It may seem absurd to some who read these lines--some practical +people!--but I cannot convey the pleasure I had in the very +elusiveness and mystery of the sign, nor how I wished I might at +the next turn come upon the poet himself. I decided that no one +but a poet could have contented himself with a lyric in one word, +unless it might have been a humourist, to whom sometimes a single +small word is more blessed than all the verbal riches of Webster +himself. For it is nothing short of genius that uses one word +when twenty will say the same thing! + +Or, would he, after all, turn out to be only a more than +ordinarily alluring advertiser? I confess my heart went into my +throat that morning, when I first saw the sign, lest it read: + +[ RESTaurant 2 miles east ] + +nor should I have been surprised if it had. + +I caught a vicarious glimpse of the sign-man to-day, through the +eyes of a young farmer. Yes, he s'posed he'd seen him, he said; +wore a slouch hat, couldn't tell whether he was young or old. +Drove into the bushes (just down there beyond the brook) and, +standin' on the seat of his buggy, nailed something to a tree. A +day or two later--the dull wonder of mankind!--the young farmer, +passing that way to town, had seen the odd sign "Rest" on the +tree: he s'posed the fellow put it there. + +"What does it mean?" + +"Well, naow, I hadn't thought," said the young farmer. + +"Did the fellow by any chance have long hair?" + +"Well, naow, I didn't notice," said he. + +"Are you sure he wore a slouch hat?" + +"Ye-es--or it may a-been straw," replied the observant young +farmer. + + +So I tramped that morning; and as I tramped I let my mind go out +warmly to the people living all about on the farms or in the +hills. It is pleasant at times to feel life, as it were, in +general terms: no specific Mr. Smith or concrete Mr. Jones, but +just human life. I love to think of people all around going out +busily in the morning to their work and returning at night, +weary, to rest. I like to think of them growing up, growing old, +loving, achieving, sinning, failing--in short, living. + +In such a live-minded mood as this it often happens that the most +ordinary things appear charged with new significance. I suppose I +had seen a thousand rural-mail boxes along country roads before +that day, but I had seen them as the young farmer saw the +sign-man. They were mere inert objects of iron and wood. + +But as I tramped, thinking of the people in the hills, I came +quite unexpectedly upon a sandy by-road that came out through a +thicket of scrub oaks and hazel-brush, like some shy countryman, +to join the turn-pike. As I stood looking into it--for it seemed +peculiarly inviting--I saw at the entrance a familiar group of +rural-mail boxes. And I saw them not as dead things, but for the +moment--the illusion was over-powering--they were living, eager +hands outstretched to the passing throng I could feel, hear, see +the farmers up there in the hills reaching out to me, to all the +world, for a thousand inexpressible things, for more life, more +companionship, more comforts, more money. + +It occurred to me at that moment, whimsically and yet somehow +seriously, that I might respond to the appeal of the shy country +road and the outstretched hands. At first I did not think of +anything I could do--save to go up and eat dinner with one of the +hill farmers, which might not be an unmixed blessing!--and then +it came to me. + +"I will write a letter!" + +Straightway and with the liveliest amusement I began to formulate +in my mind what I should say: + +Dear Friend: You do not know me. I am a passerby in the road. +My name is David Grayson. You do not know me, and it may seem +odd to you to receive a letter from an entire stranger. But I am +something of a farmer myself, and as I went by I could not help +thinking of you and your family and your farm. The fact is, I +should like to look you up, and talk with you about many things. +I myself cultivate a number of curious fields, and raise many +kinds of crops-- + +At this interesting point my inspiration suddenly collapsed, for +I had a vision, at once amusing and disconcerting, of my hill +farmer (and his practical wife!) receiving such a letter (along +with the country paper, a circular advertising a cure for +catarrh, and the most recent catalogue of the largest mail-order +house in creation). I could see them standing there in their +doorway, the man with his coat off, doubtfully scratching his +head as he read my letter, the woman wiping her hands on her +apron and looking over his shoulder, and a youngster squeezing +between the two and demanding, "What is it, Paw?" + +I found myself wondering how they would receive such an unusual +letter, what they would take it to mean. And in spite of all I +could do, I could imagine no expression on their faces save one +of incredulity and suspicion. I could fairly see the shrewd +worldly wise look come into the farmer's face; I could hear him +say: + +"Ha, guess he thinks we ain't cut our eye-teeth!" And he would +instantly begin speculating as to whether this was a new scheme +for selling him second-rate nursery stock, or the smooth +introduction of another sewing-machine agent. + +Strange world, strange world! Sometimes it seems to me that the +hardest thing of all to believe in is simple friendship. Is it +not a comment upon our civilization that it is so often easier to +believe that a man is a friend-for-profit, or even a cheat, than +that he is frankly a well-wisher of his neighbours? + + +These reflections put such a damper upon my enthusiasm that I was +on the point of taking again to the road, when it came to me +powerfully: Why not try the experiment? Why not? + +"Friendship," I said aloud, "is the greatest thing in the world. +There is no door it will not unlock, no problem it will not +solve. It is, after all, the only real thing in this world." + +The sound of my own voice brought me suddenly to myself, and I +found that I was standing there in the middle of the public road, +one clenched fist absurdly raised in air, delivering an oration +to a congregation of rural-mail boxes! + +And yet, in spite of the humorous aspects of the idea, it still +appeared to me that such an experiment would not only fit in with +the true object of my journeying, but that it might be full of +amusing and interesting adventures. Straightway I got my notebook +out of my bag and, sitting down near the roadside, wrote my +letter. I wrote it as though my life depended upon it, with the +intent of making some one household there in the hills feel at +least a little wave of warmth and sympathy from the great world +that was passing in the road below. I tried to prove the validity +of a kindly thought with no selling device attached to it; I +tried to make it such a word of frank companionship as I myself, +working in my own fields, would like to receive. + +Among the letter-boxes in the group was one that stood a little +detached and behind the others, as though shrinking from such +prosperous company. It was made of unpainted wood, with leather +hinges, and looked shabby in comparison with the jaunty red, +green, and gray paint of some of the other boxes (with their +cocky little metallic flags upraised). It bore the good American +name of Clark--T. N. Clark--and it seemed to me that I could tell +something of the Clarks by the box at the crossing. + +"I think they need a friendly word," I said to myself. + +So I wrote the name T. N. Clark on my envelope and put the letter +in his box. + +It was with a sense of joyous adventure that I now turned aside +into the sandy road and climbed the hill. My mind busied itself +with thinking how I should carry out my experiment, how I should +approach these Clarks, and how and what they were. A thousand +ways I pictured to myself the receipt of the letter: it would at +least be something new for them, something just a little +disturbing, and I was curious to see whether it might open the +rift of wonder wide enough to let me slip into their lives. + +I have often wondered why it is that men should be so fearful of +new ventures in social relationships, when I have found them so +fertile, so enjoyable. Most of us fear (actually fear) people who +differ from ourselves, either up or down the scale. Your Edison +pries fearlessly into the intimate secrets of matter; your +Marconi employs the mysterious properties of the "jellied ether," +but let a man seek to experiment with the laws of that singular +electricity which connects you and me (though you be a +millionaire and I a ditch-digger), and we think him a wild +visionary, an academic person. I think sometimes that the science +of humanity to-day is in about the state of darkness that the +natural sciences were when Linneus and Cuvier and Lamarck began +groping for the great laws of natural unity. Most of the human +race is still groaning under the belief that each of us is a +special and unrelated creation, just as men for ages saw no +relationships between the fowls of the air, the beasts of the +field, and the fish of the sea. But, thank God, we are beginning +to learn that unity is as much a law of life as selfish struggle, +and love a more vital force than avarice or lust of power or +place. A Wandering Carpenter knew it, and taught it, twenty +centuries ago. + +"The next house beyond the ridge," said the toothless old woman, +pointing with a long finger, "is the Clarks'. You can't miss it," +and I thought she looked at me oddly. + +I had been walking briskly for some three miles, and it was with +keen expectation that I now mounted the ridge and saw the farm +for which I was looking, lying there in the valley before me. It +was altogether a wild and beautiful bit of country--stunted +cedars on the knolls of the rolling hills, a brook trailing its +way among alders and willows down a long valley, and shaggy old +fields smiling in the sun. As I came nearer I could see that the +only disharmony in the valley was the work (or idleness) of men. +A broken mowing-machine stood in the field where it had been left +the summer before, rusty and forlorn, and dead weeds marked the +edges of a field wherein the spring ploughing was now only half +done. The whole farmstead, indeed, looked tired. As for the house +and barn, they had reached that final stage of decay in which the +best thing that could be said of them was that they were +picturesque. Everything was as different from the farm of the +energetic and joyous Stanleys, whose work I had shared only a few +days before, as anything that could be imagined. + +Now, my usual way of getting into step with people is simplicity +itself. I take off my coat and go to work with them and the first +thing I know we have become first-rate friends. One doesn't dream +of the possibilities of companionship in labour until he has +tried it. + +But how shall one get into step with a man who is not stepping? + +On the porch of the farmhouse, there in the mid-afternoon, a man +sat idly; and children were at play in the yard. I went in at the +gate, not knowing in the least what I should say or do, but +determined to get hold of the problem somewhere. As I approached +the step, I swung my bag from my shoulder. + +"Don't want to buy nothin'," said the man. + +"Well," said I, "that is fortunate, for I have nothing to sell. +But you've got something I want." + +He looked at me dully. + +"What's that?" + +"A drink of water." + +Scarcely moving his head, he called to a shy older girl who had +just appeared in the doorway. + +"Mandy, bring a dipper of water." + +As I stood there the children gathered curiously around me, and +the man continued to sit in his chair, saying absolutely nothing, +a picture of dull discouragement. + +"How they need something to stir them up," I thought. + +When I had emptied the dipper, I sat down on the top step of the +porch, and, without saying a word to the man, placed my bag +beside me and began to open it. The shy girl paused, dipper in +hand, the children stood on tiptoe, and even the man showed signs +of curiosity. With studied deliberation I took out two books I +had with me and put them on the porch; then I proceeded to +rummage for a long time in the bottom of the bag as though I +could not find what I wanted. Every eye was glued upon me, and I +even heard the step of Mrs. Clark as she came to the but I did +not look up or speak. Finally I pulled out my tin whistle and, +leaning back against the porch column, placed it to my lips, and +began playing in Tom Madison's best style (eyes half closed, one +toe tapping to the music, head nodding, fingers lifted high from +the stops), I began playing "Money Musk," and "Old Dan Tucker." +Oh, I put vim into it, I can tell you! And bad as my playing was, +I had from the start an absorption of attention from my audience +that Paderewski himself might have envied. I wound up with a +lively trill in the high notes and took my whistle from my lips +with a hearty laugh, for the whole thing had been downright good +fun, the playing itself, the make-believe which went with it, the +surprise and interest in the children's faces, the slow-breaking +smile of the little girl with the dipper. + +"I'll warrant you, madam," I said to the woman who now stood +frankly in the doorway with her hands wrapped in her apron, "you +haven't heard those tunes since you were a girl and danced to +'em." + +"You're right," she responded heartily. + +"I'll give you another jolly one," I said, and, replacing my +whistle, I began with even greater zest to play "Yankee Doodle." + +When I had gone through it half a dozen times with such added +variations and trills as I could command, and had two of the +children hopping about in the yard, and the forlorn man tapping +his toe to the tune, and a smile on the face of the forlorn +woman, I wound up with a rush and then, as if I could hold myself +in no longer (and I couldn't either!), I suddenly burst out: + +Yankee doodle dandy! +Yankee doodle dandy! +Mind the music and the step, +And with the girls be handy. + + +It may seem surprising, but I think I can understand why it +was--when I looked up at the woman in the doorway there were +tears in her eyes! + +"Do you know 'John Brown's Body'?" eagerly inquired the little +girl with the dipper, and then, as if she had done something +quite bold and improper, she blushed and edged toward the +doorway. + +"How does it go?" I asked, and one of the bold lads in the yard +instantly puckered his lips to show me, and immediately they were +all trying it. + +"Here goes," said I, and for the next few minutes, and in my very +best style, I hung Jeff Davis on the sour apple-tree, and I sent +the soul of John Brown marching onward with an altogether +unnecessary number of hallelujahs. + +I think sometimes that people--whole families of 'em--literally +perish for want of a good, hearty, whole-souled, mouth-opening, +throat-stretching, side-aching laugh. They begin to think +themselves the abused of creation, they begin to advise with +their livers and to hate their neighbours, and the whole world +becomes a miserable dark blue place quite unfit for human +habitation. Well, all this is often only the result of a neglect +to exercise properly those muscles of the body (and of the soul) +which have to do with honest laughter. + +I've never supposed I was an especially amusing person, but +before I got through with it I had the Clark family well loosened +up with laughter, although I wasn't quite sure some of the time +whether Mrs. Clark was laughing or crying. I had them all +laughing and talking, asking questions and answering them as +though I were an old and valued neighbour. + +Isn't it odd how unconvinced we often are by the crises in the +lives of other people? They seem to us trivial or unimportant; +but the fact is, the crises in the life of a boy, for example, or +of a poor man, are as commanding as the crises in the life of the +greatest statesman or millionaire, for they involve equally the +whole personality, the entire prospects. + +The Clark family, I soon learned, had lost its pig. A trivial +matter, you say? I wonder if anything is ever trivial. A year of +poor crops, sickness, low prices, discouragement and, at the end +of it, on top of it all, the cherished pig had died! + +From all accounts (and the man on the porch quite lost his apathy +in telling me about it) it must have been a pig of remarkable +virtues and attainments, a paragon of pigs-- in whom had been +bound up the many possibilities of new shoes for the children, a +hat for the lady, a new pair of overalls for the gentleman, and I +know not what other kindred luxuries. I do not think, indeed, I +ever had the portrait of a pig drawn for me with quite such +ardent enthusiasm of detail, and the more questions I asked the +more eager the story, until finally it became necessary for me to +go to the barn, the cattle-pen, the pig-pen and the +chicken-house, that I might visualize more clearly the scene of +the tragedy. The whole family trooped after us like a classic +chorus, but Mr. Clark himself kept the centre of the stage. + +How plainly I could read upon the face of the land the story of +this hill farmer and his meagre existence--his ill-directed +effort to wring a poor living for his family from these upland +fields, his poverty, and, above all, his evident lack of +knowledge of his own calling. Added to these things, and perhaps +the most depressing of all his difficulties, was the utter +loneliness of the task, the feeling that it mattered little to +any one whether the Clark family worked or not, or indeed whether +they lived or died. A perfectly good American family was here +being wasted, with the precious land they lived on, because no +one had taken the trouble to make them feel that they were a +part of this Great American Job. + + +As we went back to the house, a freckled-nosed neighbour's boy +came in at the gate. + +"A letter for you, Mr. Clark," said he. "I brought it up with our +mail." + +"A letter!" exclaimed Mrs. Clark. + +"A letter!" echoed at least three of the children in unison. + +"Probably a dun from Brewster," said Mr. Clark discouragingly. + +I felt a curious sensation about the heart, and an eagerness of +interest I have rarely experienced. I had no idea what a mere +letter--a mere unopened unread letter--would mean to a family +like this. + +"It has no stamp on it!" exclaimed the older girl. + +Mrs. Clark turned it over wonderingly in her hands. Mr. Clark +hastily put on a pair of steel-bowed spectacles. + +"Let me see it," he said, and when he also had inspected it +minutely he solemnly tore open the envelope and drew forth my +letter. + +'I assure you I never awaited the reading of any writing of mine +with such breathless interest. How would they take it? Would they +catch the meaning that I meant to convey? And would they suspect +me of having written it? + +Mr. Clark sat on the porch and read the letter slowly through to +the end, turned the sheet over and examined it carefully, and +then began reading it again to himself, Mrs. Clark leaning over +his shoulder. + +"What does it mean?" asked Mr. Clark. + +"It's too good to be true," said Mrs. Clark with a sigh. + +I don't know how long the discussion might have +continued--probably for days or weeks--had not the older girl, +now flushed of face and rather pretty, looked at me and said +breathlessly (she was as sharp as a briar): + +"You wrote it." + +I stood the battery of all their eyes for a moment, smiling and +rather excited. + +"Yes," I said earnestly, "I wrote it, and I mean every word of +it." + +I had anticipated some shock of suspicion and inquiry, but to my +surprise it was accepted as simply as a neighbourly good morning. +I suppose the mystery of it was eclipsed by my astonishing +presence there upon the scene with my tin whistle. + +At any rate, it was a changed, eager, interested family which now +occupied the porch of that dilapidated farmhouse. And immediately +we fell into a lively discussion of crops and farming, and indeed +the whole farm question, in which I found both the man and his +wife singularly acute--sharpened upon the stone of hard +experience. + +Indeed, I found right here, as I have many times found among our +American farmers, an intelligence (a literacy growing out of what +I believe to be improper education) which was better able to +discuss the problems of rural life than to grapple with and solve +them. A dull, illiterate Polish farmer, I have found, will +sometimes succeed much better at the job of life than his +American neighbour. + +Talk with almost any man for half an hour, and you will find that +his conversation, like an old-fashioned song, has a regularly +recurrent chorus. I soon discovered Mr. Clark's chorus. + +"Now, if only I had a little cash," he sang, or, "If I had a few +dollars, I could do so and so." + +Why, he was as helplessly, dependent upon money as any +soft-handed millionairess. He considered himself poor and +helpless because he lacked dollars, whereas people are really +poor and helpless only when they lack courage and faith. + +We were so much absorbed in our talk that I was greatly surprised +to hear Mrs. Clark's voice at the doorway. + +"Won't you come in to supper?" + +After we had eaten, there was a great demand for more of my tin +whistle (oh, I know how Caruso must feel!), and I played over +every blessed tune I knew, and some I didn't, four or five times, +and after that we told stories and cracked jokes in a way that +must have been utterly astonishing in that household. After the +children had been, yes, driven to bed, Mr. Clark seemed about to +drop back into his lamentations over his condition (which I have +no doubt had come to give him a sort of pleasure), but I turned +to Mrs. Clark, whom I had come to respect very highly, and began +to talk about the little garden she had started, which was about +the most enterprising thing about the place. + +"Isn't it one of the finest things in this world," said I, "to go +out into a good garden in the summer days and bring in loaded +baskets filled with beets and cabbages and potatoes, just for the +gathering?" + +I knew from the expression on Mrs. Clark's face that I had +touched a sounding note. + +"Opening the green corn a little at the top to see if it is ready +and then stripping it off and tearing away the moist white +husks--" + +"And picking tomatoes?" said Mrs. Clark. "And knuckling the +watermelons to see if they are ripe? Oh, I tell you there are +thousands of people in this country who'd like to be able to pick +their dinner in the garden!" + +"It's fine!" said Mrs. Clark with amused enthusiasm, "but I like +best to hear the hens cackling in the barnyard in the morning +after they've laid, and to go and bring in the eggs." + +"Just like a daily present!" I said. + +"Ye-es," responded the soundly practical Mrs. Clark, thinking, no +doubt, that there were other aspects of the garden and chicken +problem. + +"I'll tell you another thing I like about a farmer's life," said +I, "that's the smell in the house in the summer when there are +preserves, or sweet pickles, or jam, or whatever it is, simmering +on the stove. No matter where you are, up in the garret or down +cellar, it's cinnamon, and allspice, and cloves, and every sort +of sugary odour. Now, that gets me where I live!" + +"It IS good!" said Mrs. Clark with a laugh that could certainly +be called nothing if not girlish. + + +All this time I had been keeping one eye on Mr. Clark. It was +amusing to see him struggling against a cheerful view of life. He +now broke into the conversation. + +"Well, but--" he began. + +Instantly I headed him off. + +"And think," said I, "of living a life in which you are beholden +to no man. It's a free life, the farmer's life. No one can +discharge you because you are sick, or tired, or old, or because +you are a Democrat or a Baptist!" + +"Well, but--" + +"And think of having to pay no rent, nor of having to live +upstairs in a tenement!" + +"Well, but--" + +"Or getting run over by a street-car, or having the children play +in the gutters." + +"I never did like to think of what my children would do if we +went to town," said Mrs. Clark. + +"I guess not!" I exclaimed. + +The fact is, most people don't think half enough of themselves +and of their jobs; but before we went to bed that night I had the +forlorn T. N. Clark talking about the virtues of his farm in +quite a surprising way. + +I even saw him eying me two or three times with a shrewd look in +his eyes (your American is an irrepressible trader) as though I +might possibly be some would-be purchaser in disguise. + +(I shall write some time a dissertation on the advantages, of +wearing shabby clothing.) + +The farm really had many good points. One of them was a shaggy +old orchard of good and thriving but utterly neglected +apple-trees. + +"Man alive," I said, when we went out to see it in the morning, +"you've got a gold mine here!" And I told him how in our +neighbourhood we were renovating the old orchards, pruning them +back, spraying, and bringing them into bearing again. + +He had never, since he owned the place, had a salable crop of +fruit. When we came in to breakfast I quite stirred the practical +Mrs. Clark with my enthusiasm, and she promised at once to send +for a bulletin on apple-tree renovation, published by the state +experiment station. I am sure I was no more earnest in my advice +than the conditions warranted. + +After breakfast we went into the field, and I suggested that +instead of ploughing any more land--for the season was already +late--we get out all the accumulations of rotted manure from +around the barn and strew it on the land already ploughed and +harrow it in. + +"A good job on a little piece of land," I said, "is far more +profitable than a poor job on a big piece of land." + +Without more ado we got his old team hitched up and began +loading, and hauling out the manure, and spent all day long at +it. Indeed, such was the height of enthusiasm which T. N. Clark +now reached (for his was a temperament that must either soar in +the clouds or grovel in the mire), that he did not wish to stop +when Mrs. Clark called us in to supper. In that one day his crop +of corn, in perspective, overflowed his crib, he could not find +boxes and barrels for his apples, his shed would not hold all his +tobacco, and his barn was already being enlarged to accommodate a +couple more cows! He was also keeping bees and growing ginseng. + +But it was fine, that evening, to see Mrs. Clark's face, the +renewed hope and courage in it. I thought as I looked at her (for +she was the strong and steady one in that house): + +"If you can keep the enthusiasm up, if you can make that husband +of yours grow corn, and cows, and apples as you raise chickens +and make garden, there is victory yet in this valley." + +That night it rained, but in spite of the moist earth we spent +almost all of the following day hard at work in the field, and +all the time talking over ways and means for the future, but the +next morning, early, I swung my bag on my back and left them. + +I shall not attempt to describe the friendliness of our parting. +Mrs. Clark followed me wistfully to the gate. + +"I can't tell you--" she began, with the tears starting in her +eyes. + +"Then don't try--" said I, smiling. + +And so I swung off down the country road, without looking back. + + + +CHAPTER VII. THE UNDISCOVERED COUNTRY + +In some strange deep way there is no experience of my whole +pilgrimage that I look back upon with so much wistful affection +as I do upon the events of the day--the day and the wonderful +night--which followed my long visit with the forlorn Clark family +upon their hill farm. At first I hesitated about including an +account of it here because it contains so little of what may be +called thrilling or amusing incident. + +"They want only the lively stories of my adventures," I said to +myself, and I was at the point of pushing my notes to the edge of +the table where (had I let go) they would have fallen into the +convenient oblivion of the waste-basket. But something held me +back. + +"No," said I, "I'll tell it; if it means so much to me, it may +mean something to the friends who are following these lines." + +For, after all, it is not what goes on outside of a man, the +clash and clatter of superficial events, that arouses our deepest +interest, but what goes on inside. Consider then that in this +narrative I shall open a little door in my heart and let you look +in, if you care to, upon the experiences of a day and a night in +which I was supremely happy. + +If you had chanced to be passing, that crisp spring morning, you +would have seen a traveller on foot with a gray bag on his +shoulder, swinging along the country road; and you might have +been astonished to see him lift his hat at you and wish you a +good morning. You might have turned to look back at him, as you +passed, and found him turning also to look back at you--and +wishing he might know you. But you would not have known what he +was chanting under his breath as he tramped (how little we know +of a man by the shabby coat he wears), nor how keenly he was +enjoying the light airs and the warm sunshine of that fine spring +morning. + +After leaving the hill farm he had walked five miles up the +valley, had crossed the ridge at a place called the Little Notch, +where all the world lay stretched before him like the open palm +of his hand, and had come thus to the boundaries of the +Undiscovered Country. He had been for days troubled with the deep +problems of other people, and it seemed to him this morning as +though a great stone had been rolled from the door of his heart, +and that he was entering upon a new world--a wonderful, high, +free world. And, as he tramped, certain lines of a stanza long +ago caught up in his memory from some forgotten page came up to +his lips, and these were the words (you did not know as you +passed) that he was chanting under his breath as he tramped, for +they seem charged with the spirit of the hour: + +I've bartered my sheets for a starlit bed; +I've traded my meat for a crust of bread; +I've changed my book for a sapling cane, +And I'm off to the end of the world again. + +In the Undiscovered Country that morning it was wonderful how +fresh the spring woods were, and how the birds sang in the trees, +and how the brook sparkled and murmured at the roadside. The +recent rain had washed the atmosphere until it was as clear and +sparkling and heady as new wine, and the footing was firm and +hard. As one tramped he could scarcely keep from singing or +shouting aloud for the very joy of the day. + +"I think," I said to myself, "I've never been in a better +country," and it did not seem to me I cared to know where the +gray road ran, nor how far away the blue hills were. + +"It is wonderful enough anywhere here," I said. + +And presently I turned from the road and climbed a gently sloping +hillside among oak and chestnut trees. The earth was well +carpeted for my feet, and here and there upon the hillside, where +the sun came through the green roof of foliage, were warm +splashes Of yellow light, and here and there, on shadier slopes, +the new ferns were spread upon the earth like some lacy coverlet. +I finally sat down at the foot of a tree where through a rift in +the foliage in the valley below I could catch a glimpse in the +distance of the meadows and the misty blue hills. I was glad to +rest, just rest, for the two previous days of hard labour, the +labour and the tramping, had wearied me, and I sat for a long +time quietly looking about me, scarcely thinking at all, but +seeing, hearing, smelling--feeling the spring morning, and the +woods and the hills, and the patch of sky I could see. + +For a long, long time I sat thus, but finally my mind began to +flow again, and I thought how fine it would be if I had some good +friend there with me to enjoy the perfect surroundings--some +friend who would understand. And I thought of the Vedders with +whom I had so recently spent a wonderful day; and I wished that +they might be with me; there were so many things to be said--to +be left unsaid. Upon this it occurred to me, suddenly, +whimsically, and I exclaimed aloud: + +"Why, I'll just call them up." + +Half turning to the trunk of the tree where I sat, I placed one +hand to my ear and the other to my lips and said: + +"Hello, Central, give me Mr. Vedder." + +I waited a moment, smiling a little at my own absurdity and yet +quite captivated by the enterprise. + +"Is this Mr. Vedder? Oh, Mrs. Vedder! Well, this is David +Grayson." . . . . + +"Yes, the very same. A bad penny, a rolling stone." . . . . + +"Yes. I want you both to come here as quickly as you can. I have +the most important news for you. The mountain laurels are +blooming, and the wild strawberries are setting their fruit. Yes, +yes, and in the fields--all around here, to-day there are +wonderful white patches of daisies, and from where I sit I can +see an old meadow as yellow as gold with buttercups. And the +bobolinks are hovering over the low spots. Oh, but it is fine +here-- and we are not together!" . . . . + +"No; I cannot give exact directions. But take the Long Road and +turn at the turning by the tulip-tree, and you will find me at +home. Come right in without knocking." + + +I hung up the receiver. For a single instant it had seemed almost +true, and indeed I believe--I wonder-- + +Some day, I thought, just a bit sadly, for I shall probably not +be here then--some day, we shall be able to call our friends +through space and time. Some day we shall discover that +marvellously simple coherer by which we may better utilize the +mysterious ether of love. + +For a time I was sad with thoughts of the unaccomplished future, +and then I reflected that if I could not call up the Vedders so +informally I could at least write down a few paragraphs which +would give them some faint impression of that time and place. But +I had no sooner taken out my note-book and put down a sentence or +two than I stuck fast. How foolish and feeble written words are +anyway! With what glib facility they describe, but how +inadequately they convey. A thousand times I have thought to +myself, " If only I could WRITE!" + +Not being able to write I turned, as I have so often turned +before, to some good old book, trusting that I might find in the +writing of another man what I lacked in my own. I took out my +battered copy of Montaigne and, opening it at random, as I love +to do, came, as luck would have it, upon a chapter devoted to +coaches, in which there is much curious (and worthless) +information, darkened with Latin quotations. This reading had an +unexpected effect upon me. + +I could not seem to keep my mind down upon the printed page; it +kept bounding away at the sight of the distant hills, at the +sound of a woodpecker on a dead stub which stood near me, and at +the thousand and one faint rustlings, creepings, murmurings, +tappings, which animate the mystery of the forest. How dull +indeed appeared the printed page in comparison with the book of +life, how shut-in its atmosphere, how tinkling and distant the +sound of its voices. Suddenly I shut my book with a snap. + +"Musty coaches and Latin quotations!" I exclaimed. "Montaigne's +no writer for the open air. He belongs at a study fire on a quiet +evening!" + +I had anticipated, when I started out, many a pleasant hour by +the roadside or in the woods with my books, but this was almost +the first opportunity I had found for reading (as it was almost +the last), so full was the present world of stirring events. As +for poor old Montaigne, I have been out of harmony with him ever +since, nor have I wanted him in the intimate case at my elbow. + +After a long time in the forest, and the sun having reached the +high heavens, I gathered up my pack and set forth again along the +slope of the hills--not hurrying, just drifting and enjoying +every sight and sound. And thus walking I came in sight, through +the trees, of a glistening pool of water and made my way straight +toward it. + + +A more charming spot I have rarely seen. In some former time an +old mill had stood at the foot of the little valley, and a +ruinous stone dam still held the water in a deep, quiet pond +between two round hills. Above it a brook ran down through the +woods, and below, with a pleasant musical sound, the water +dripped over the mossy stone lips of the dam and fell into the +rocky pool below. Nature had long ago healed the wounds of men; +she had half-covered the ruined mill with verdure, had softened +the stone walls of the dam with mosses and lichens, and had crept +down the steep hillside and was now leaning so far out over the +pool that she could see her reflection in the quiet water. + +Near the upper end of the pond I found a clear white sand-bank, +where no doubt a thousand fishermen had stood, half hidden by the +willows, to cast for trout in the pool below. I intended merely +to drink and moisten my face, but as I knelt by the pool and saw +my reflection in the clear water wanted something more than that! +In a moment I had thrown aside my bag and clothes and found +myself wading naked into the water. + +It was cold! I stood a moment there in the sunny air, the great +world open around me, shuddering, for I dreaded the plunge--and +then with a run, a shout and a splash I took the deep water. Oh, +but it was fine! With long, deep strokes I carried myself fairly +to the middle of the pond. The first chill was succeeded by a +tingling glow, and I can convey no idea whatever of the glorious +sense of exhilaration I had. I swam with the broad front stroke, +I swam on my side, head half submerged, with a deep under stroke, +and I rolled over on my back and swam with the water lapping my +chin. Thus I came to the end of the pool near the old dam, +touched my feet on the bottom, gave a primeval whoop, and dove +back into the water again. I have rarely experienced keener +physical joy. After swimming thus boisterously for a time, I +quieted down to long, leisurely strokes, conscious of the water +playing across my shoulders and singing at my ears, and finally, +reaching the centre of the pond, I turned over on my back and, +paddling lazily, watched the slow procession of light clouds +across the sunlit openings of the trees above me. Away up in the +sky I could see a hawk slowly swimming about (in his element as I +was in mine), and nearer at hand, indeed fairly in the thicket +about the pond, I could hear a wood-thrush singing. + +And so, shaking the water out of my hair and swimming with long +and leisurely strokes, I returned to the sand-bank, and there, +standing in a spot of warm sunshine, I dried myself with the +towel from my bag. And I said to myself: + +"Surely it is good to be alive at a time like this!" + +Slowly I drew on my clothes, idling there in the sand, and +afterward I found an inviting spot in an old meadow where I threw +myself down on the grass under an apple-tree and looked up into +the shadowy places in the foliage above me. I felt a delicious +sense of physical well-being, and I was pleasantly tired. + +So I lay there--and the next thing I knew, I turned over, feeling +cold and stiff, and opened my eyes upon the dusky shadows of late +evening. I had been sleeping for hours! + + +The next few minutes (or was it an hour or eternity?), I recall +as containing some of the most exciting and, when all is said, +amusing incidents in my whole life. And I got quite a new glimpse +of that sometimes bumptious person known as David Grayson. + +The first sensation I had was one of complete panic. What was I +to do? Where was I to go? + +Hastily seizing my bag--and before I was half awake--I started +rapidly across the meadow, in my excitement tripping and falling +several times in the first hundred yards. In daylight I have no +doubt that I should easily have seen a gateway or at least an +opening from the old meadow, but in the fast-gathering darkness +it seemed to me that the open field was surrounded on every side +by impenetrable forests. Absurd as it may seem, for no one knows +what his mind will do at such a moment, I recalled vividly a +passage from Stanley's story of his search for Livingstone, in +which he relates how he escaped from a difficult place in the +jungle by KEEPING STRAIGHT AHEAD. + +I print these words in capitals because they seemed written that +night upon the sky. KEEPING STRAIGHT AHEAD, I entered the forest +on one side of the meadow (with quite a heroic sense of +adventure), but scraped my shin on a fallen log and ran into a +tree with bark on it that felt like a gigantic currycomb--and +stopped! + +Up to this point I think I was still partly asleep. Now, however, +I waked up. + +"All you need," said I to myself in my most matter-of-fact tone, +"is a little cool sense. Be quiet now and reason it out." + +So I stood there for some moments reasoning it out, with the +result that I turned back and found the meadow again. + +"What a fool I've been!" I said. "Isn't it perfectly plain that I +should have gone down to the pond, crossed over the inlet, and +reached the road by the way I came?" + +Having thus settled my problem, and congratulating myself on my +perspicacity, I started straight for the mill-pond, but to my +utter amazement, in the few short hours while I had been asleep, +that entire body of water had evaporated, the dam had +disappeared, and the stream had dried up. I must certainly +present the facts in this remarkable case to some learned +society. + +I then decided to return to the old apple-tree where I had slept, +which now seemed quite like home, but, strange to relate, the +apple-tree had also completely vanished from the enchanted +meadow. At that I began to suspect that in coming out of the +forest I had somehow got into another and somewhat similar old +field. I have never had a more confused or eerie sensation; not +fear, but a sort of helplessness in which for an instant I +actually began to doubt whether it was I myself, David Grayson, +who stood there in the dark meadow, or whether I was the victim +of a peculiarly bad dream. I suppose many other people have had +these sensations under similar conditions, but they were new to +me. + +I turned slowly around and looked for a light; I think I never +wanted so much to see some sign of human habitation as I did at +that moment. + +What a coddled world we live in, truly. That being out after dark +in a meadow should so disturb the very centre of our being! In +all my life, indeed, and I suppose the same is true of +ninety-nine out of a hundred of the people in America to-day, I +had never before found myself where nothing stood between nature +and me, where I had no place to sleep, no shelter for the +night--nor any prospect of finding one. I was infinitely less +resourceful at that moment than a rabbit, or a partridge, or a +gray squirrel. + + + +Presently I sat down on the ground where I had been standing, +with a vague fear (absurd to look back upon) that it, too, in +some manner might slip away from under me. And as I sat there I +began to have familiar gnawings at the pit of my stomach, and I +remembered that, save for a couple of Mrs. Clark's doughnuts +eaten while I was sitting on the hillside, ages ago, I had had +nothing since my early breakfast. + +With this thought of my predicament--and the glimpse I had of +myself "hungry and homeless"--the humour of the whole situation +suddenly came over me, and, beginning with a chuckle, I wound up, +as my mind dwelt upon my recent adventures, with a long, loud, +hearty laugh. + +As I laughed--and what a roar it made in that darkness!--I got up +on my feet and looked up at the sky. One bright star shone out +over the woods, and in high heavens I could see dimly the white +path of the Milky Way. And all at once I seemed again to be in +command of myself and of the world. I felt a sudden lift and +thrill of the spirits, a warm sense that this too was part of the +great adventure--the Thing Itself. + +"This is the light," I said looking up again at the sky and the +single bright star, "which is set for me to-night. I will make my +bed by it." + +I can hope to make no one understand (unless he understands +already) with what joy of adventure I now crept through the +meadow toward the wood. It was an unknown, unexplored world I was +in, and I, the fortunate discoverer, had here to shift for +himself, make his home under the stars! Marquette on the wild +shores of the Mississippi, or Stanley in Africa, had no joy that +I did not know at that moment. + +I crept along the meadow and came at last to the wood. Here I +chose a somewhat sheltered spot at the foot of a large tree--and +yet a spot not so obscured that I could not look out over the +open spaces of the meadow and see the sky. Here, groping in the +darkness, like some primitive creature, I raked together a pile +of leaves with my fingers, and found dead twigs and branches of +trees; but in that moist forest (where the rain had fallen only +the day before) my efforts to kindle a fire were unavailing. Upon +this, I considered using some pages from my notebook, but another +alternative suggested itself: + +"Why not Montaigne?" + +With that I groped for the familiar volume, and with a curious +sensation of satisfaction I tore out a handful of pages from the +back. + +"Better Montaigne than Grayson," I said, with a chuckle. It was +amazing how Montaigne sparkled and crackled when he was well +lighted. + +"There goes a bundle of quotations from Vergil," I said, "and +there's his observations on the eating of fish. There are more +uses than one for the classics." + +So I ripped out a good part of another chapter, and thus, by +coaxing, got my fire to going. It was not difficult after that to +find enough fuel to make it blaze up warmly. + +I opened my bag and took out the remnants of the luncheon which +Mrs. Clark had given me that morning; and I was surprised and +delighted to find, among the other things, a small bottle of +coffee. This suggested all sorts of pleasing possibilities and, +the spirit of invention being now awakened, I got out my tin cup, +split a sapling stick so I could fit it into the handle, and set +the cup, full of coffee, on the coals at the edge of the fire. It +was soon heated, and although I spilled some of it in getting it +off, and although it was well spiced with ashes, I enjoyed it, +with Mrs. Clark's doughnuts and sandwiches (some of which I +toasted with a sapling fork) as thoroughly, I think, as ever I +enjoyed any meal. + +How little we know--we who dread life--how much there is in life! + +My activities around the fire had warmed me to the bone, and +after I was well through with my meal I gathered a plentiful +supply of wood and placed it near at hand, I got out my +waterproof cape and put it on, and, finally piling more sticks on +the fire, I sat down comfortably at the foot of the tree. + + +I wish I could convey the mystery and the beauty of that night. +Did you ever sit by a campfire and watch the flames dance, and +the sparks fly upward into the cool dark air? Did you ever see +the fitful light among the tree-depths, at one moment opening +vast shadowy vistas into the forest, at the next dying downward +and leaving it all in sombre mystery? It came to me that night +with the wonderful vividness of a fresh experience. + +And what a friendly and companionable thing a campfire is! How +generous and outright it is! It plays for you when you wish so be +lively, and it glows for you when you wish to be reflective. + +After a while, for I did not feel in the least sleepy, I stepped +out of the woods to the edge of the pasture. All around me lay +the dark and silent earth, and above the blue bowl of the sky, +all glorious with the blaze of a million worlds. Sometimes I have +been oppressed by this spectacle of utter space, of infinite +distance, of forces too great for me to grasp or understand, but +that night it came upon me with fresh wonder and power, and with +a sense of great humility that I belonged here too, that I was a +part of it all--and would not be neglected or forgotten. It +seemed to me I never had a moment of greater faith than that. + +And so, with a sense of satisfaction and peace, I returned to my +fire. As I sat there I could hear the curious noises of the +woods, the little droppings, cracklings, rustlings which seemed +to make all the world alive. I even fancied I could see small +bright eyes looking out at my fire, and once or twice I was +almost sure I heard voices--whispering--perhaps the voices of the +woods. + +Occasionally I added, with some amusement, a few dry pages of +Montaigne to the fire, and watched the cheerful blaze that +followed. + +"No," said I, "Montaigne is not for the open spaces and the +stars. Without a roof over his head Montaigne would--well, die of +sneezing." + +So I sat all night long there by the tree. Occasionally I dropped +into a light sleep, and then, as my fire died down, I grew chilly +and awakened, to build up the fire and doze again. I saw the +first faint gray streaks of dawn above the trees, I saw the pink +glow in the east before the sunrise, and I watched the sun +himself rise upon a new day-- + +When I walked out into the meadow by daylight and looked about me +curiously, I saw, not forty rods away, the back of a barn. + + +"Be you the fellow that was daown in my cowpasture all night?" +asked the sturdy farmer. + +"I'm that fellow," I said. + +"Why didn't you come right up to the house?" + +"Well--" I said, and then paused. + +"Well . . ." said I. + + + +CHAPTER VIII. THE HEDGE + +Strange, strange, how small the big world is! + +"Why didn't you come right into the house?" the sturdy farmer had +asked me when I came out of the meadow where I had spent the +night under the stars. + +"Well," I said, turning the question as adroitly as I could, +"I'll make it up by going into the house now." + +So I went with him into his fine, comfortable house. + +"This is my wife," said he. + +A woman stood there facing me. "Oh!" she exclaimed, "Mr. +Grayson!" + +I recalled swiftly a child--a child she seemed then--with braids +down her back, whom I had known when I first came to my farm. She +had grown up, married, and had borne three children, while I had +been looking the other way for a minute or two. She had not been +in our neighborhood for several years. + +"And how is your sister and Doctor McAlway?" + +Well, we had quite a wonderful visit, she made breakfast for me, +asking and talking eagerly as I ate. + +"We've just had news that old Mr. Toombs is dead." + +"Dead!" I exclaimed, dropping my fork; "old Nathan Toombs!" + +"Yes, he was my uncle. Did you know him?" + +"I knew Nathan Toombs," I said. + +I spent two days there with the Ransomes, for they would not hear +of my leaving, and half of our spare time, I think, was spent in +discussing Nathan Toombs. I was not able to get him out of my +mind for days, for his death was one of those events which prove +so much and leave so much unproven. + +I can recall vividly my astonishment at the first evidence I ever +had of the strange old man or of his work. It was not very long +after I came to my farm to live. I had taken to spending my spare +evenings--the long evenings of summer--in exploring the country +roads for miles around, getting acquainted with each farmstead, +each bit of grove and meadow and marsh, making my best bow to +each unfamiliar hill, and taking everywhere that toll of pleasure +which comes of quiet discovery. + +One evening, having walked farther than usual, I came quite +suddenly around a turn in the road and saw stretching away before +me an extraordinary sight. + +I feel that I am conveying no adequate impression of what I +beheld by giving it any such prim and decorous name as--a Hedge. +It was a menagerie, a living, green menagerie! I had no sooner +seen it than I began puzzling my brain as to whether one of the +curious ornaments into which the upper part of the hedge had been +clipped and trimmed was made to represent the head of a horse, or +a camel, or an Egyptian sphinx. + +The hedge was of arbor vitae and as high as a man's waist. At more +or less regular intervals the trees in it had been allowed to +grow much taller and had been wonderfully pruned into the +similitude of towers, pinnacles, bells, and many other strange +designs. Here and there the hedge held up a spindling umbrella +of greenery, sometimes a double umbrella--a little one above the +big one--and over the gateway at the centre; as a sort of final +triumph, rose a grandiose arch of interlaced branches upon which +the artist had outdone himself in marvels of ornamentation. + +I shall never forget the sensation of delight I had over this +discovery, or of how I walked, tiptoe, along the road in front, +studying each of the marvellous adornments. How eagerly, too, I +looked over at the house beyond--a rather bare, bleak house set +on a slight knoll or elevation and guarded at one corner by a +dark spruce tree. At some distance behind I saw a number of huge +barns, a cattle yard and a silo--all the evidences of +prosperity--with well-nurtured fields, now yellowing with the +summer crops, spreading pleasantly away on every hand. + +It was nearly dark before I left that bit of roadside, and I +shall never forget the eerie impression I had as I turned back to +take a final look at the hedge, the strange, grotesque aspect it +presented there in the half light with the bare, lonely house +rising from the knoll behind. + + +It was not until some weeks later that I met the owner of the +wonderful hedge. By that time, however, having learned of my +interest, I found the whole countryside alive with stories about +it and about Old Nathan Toombs, its owner. It was as though I had +struck the rock of refreshment in a weary land. + +I remember distinctly how puzzled was by the stories I heard. The +neighbourhood portrait--and ours is really a friendly +neighbourhood--was by no means flattering. Old Toombs was +apparently of that type of hard-shelled, grasping, self-reliant, +old-fashioned farmer not unfamiliar to many country +neighbourhoods. He had come of tough old American stock and he +was a worker, a saver, and thus he had grown rich, the richest +farmer in the whole neighbourhood. He was a regular +individualistic American. + +"A dour man," said the Scotch Preacher, "but just--you must admit +that he is just." + +There was no man living about whom the Scotch Preacher could not +find something good to say. + +"Yes, just," replied Horace, "but hard--hard, and as mean as +pusley." + +This portrait was true enough in itself, for I knew just the sort +of an aggressive, undoubtedly irritable old fellow it pictured, +but somehow, try as I would, I could not see any such old fellow +wasting his moneyed hours clipping bells, umbrellas, and camel's +heads on his ornamental greenery. It left just that incongruity +which is at once the lure, the humour, and the perplexity of +human life. Instead of satisfying my curiosity I was more anxious +than ever to see Old Toombs with my own eyes. + +But the weeks passed and somehow I did not meet him. He was a +lonely, unneighbourly old fellow. He had apparently come to fit +into the community without ever really becoming a part of it. His +neighbours accepted him as they accepted a hard hill in the town +road. From time to time he would foreclose a mortgage where he +had loaned money to some less thrifty farmer, or he would extend +his acres by purchase, hard cash down, or he would build a bigger +barn. When any of these things happened the community would crowd +over a little, as it were, to give him more room. It is a curious +thing, and tragic, too, when you come to think of it, how the +world lets alone those people who appear to want to be let alone. +"I can live to myself," says the unneighbourly one. "Well, live +to yourself, then," cheerfully responds the world, and it goes +about its more or less amusing affairs and lets the unneighbourly +one cut himself off. + +So our small community had let Old Toombs go his way with all his +money, his acres, his hedge, and his reputation for being a just +man. + +Not meeting him, therefore, in the familiar and friendly life of +the neighbourhood, I took to walking out toward his farm, looking +freshly at the wonderful hedge and musing upon that most +fascinating of all subjects--how men come to be what they are. +And at last I was rewarded. + +One day I had scarcely reached the end of the hedge when I saw +Old Toombs himself, moving toward me down the country road. +Though I had never seen him before, I was at no loss to identify +him. The first and vital impression he gave me, if I can compress +it into a single word, was, I think, force--force. He came +stubbing down the country road with a brown hickory stick in his +hand which at every step he set vigorously into the soft earth. +Though not tall, he gave the impression of being enormously +strong. He was thick, solid, firm--thick through the body, thick +through the thighs; and his shoulders--what shoulders they +were!--round like a maple log; and his great head with its +thatching of coarse iron-gray hair, though thrust slightly +forward, seemed set immovably upon them, + +He presented such a forbidding appearance that I was of two minds +about addressing him. Dour he was indeed! Nor shall I ever forget +how he looked when I spoke to him. He stopped short there in the +road. On his big square nose he wore a pair of curious +spring-bowed glasses with black rims. For a moment he looked at +me through these glasses, raising his chin a little, and then, +deliberately wrinkling his nose, they fell off and dangled at the +length of the faded cord by which they were hung. There was +something almost uncanny about this peculiar habit of his and of +the way in which, afterward, he looked at me from under his bushy +gray brows. This was in truth the very man of the neighbourhood +portrait. + +"I am a new settler here," I said, "and I've been interested in +looking at your wonderful hedge." + +The old man's eyes rested upon me a moment with a mingled look of +suspicion and hostility. + +"So you've heard o' me," he said in a high-pitched voice, "and +you've heard o' my hedge." + +Again he paused and looked me over. "Well," he said, with an +indescribably harsh, cackling laugh, "I warrant you've heard +nothing good o' me down there. I'm a skinflint, ain't I? I'm a +hard citizen, ain't I? I grind the faces o' the poor, don't I?" + +At first his words were marked by a sort of bitter humour, but as +he continued to speak his voice rose higher and higher until it +was positively menacing. + +There were just two things I could do--haul down the flag and +retreat ingloriously, or face the music. With a sudden sense of +rising spirits--for such things do not often happen to a man in a +quiet country road--I paused a moment, looking him square in the +eye. + +"Yes," I said, with great deliberation, "you've given me just +about the neighborhood picture of yourself as I have had it. They +do say you are a skinflint, yes, and a hard man. They say that +you are rich and friendless; they say that while you are a just +man, you do not know mercy. These are terrible things to say of +any man if they are true." + +I paused. The old man looked for a moment as though he were going +to strike me with his stick, but he neither stirred nor spoke. It +was evidently a wholly new experience for him. + +"Yes," I said, "you are not popular in this community, but what +do you suppose I care about that? I'm interested in your hedge. +What I'm curious to know--and I might as well tell you +frankly--is how such a man as you are reputed to be could grow +such an extraordinary hedge. You must have been at it a very long +time." + +I was surprised at the effect of my words. The old man turned +partly aside and looked for a moment along the proud and +flaunting embattlements of the green marvel before us. Then he +said in a moderate voice: + +"It's a putty good hedge, a putty good hedge." + +"I've got him," I thought exultantly, "I've got him!" + +"How long ago did you start it?" I pursued my advantage eagerly. + +"Thirty-two years come spring," said he. + +"Thirty-two years!" I repeated; "you've been at it a long time." + +With that I plied him with questions in the liveliest manner, and +in five minutes I had the gruff old fellow stumping along at my +side and pointing out the various notable-features of his +wonderful creation. His suppressed excitement was quite wonderful +to see. He would point his hickory stick with a poking motion, +and, when he looked up, instead of throwing back his big, rough +head, he bent at the hips, thus imparting an impression of +astonishing solidity. + +"It took me all o' ten years to get that bell right," he said, +and, "Take a look at that arch: now what is your opinion o' +that?" + +Once, in the midst of our conversation, he checked himself +abruptly and looked around at me with a sudden dark expression of +suspicion. I saw exactly what lay in his mind, but I continued my +questioning as though I perceived no change in him. It was only +momentary, however, and he was soon as much interested as before. +He talked as though he had not had such an opportunity before in +years--and I doubt whether he had. It was plain to see that if +any one ever loved anything in this world, Old Toombs loved that +hedge of his. Think of it, indeed! He had lived with it, nurtured +it, clipped it, groomed it--for thirty-two years. + +So we walked down the sloping field within the hedge, and it +seemed as though one of the deep mysteries of human nature was +opening there before me. What strange things men set their hearts +upon! + +Thus, presently, we came nearly to the farther end of the hedge. +Here the old man stopped and turned around, facing me. + +"Do you see that valley?" he asked. "Do you see that slopin' +valley up through the meadow?" + +His voice rose suddenly to a sort of high-pitched violence. + +"That' passel o' hounds up there," he said, "want to build a road +down my valley." + +He drew his breath fiercely. + +"They want to build a road through my land. They want to ruin my +farm--they want to cut down my hedge. I'll fight 'em. I'll fight +'em. I'll show 'em yet!" + +It was appalling. His face grew purple, his eyes narrowed to pin +points and grew red and angry--like the eyes of an infuriated +boar. His hands shook. Suddenly he turned upon me, poising his +stick in his hand, and said violently. + +"And who are you? Who are you? Are you one of these surveyor +fellows?" + +"My name," I answered as quietly as I could, "is Grayson. I live +on the old Mather farm. I am not in the least interested in any +of your road troubles." + +He looked at me a moment more, and then seemed to shake himself +or shudder, his eyes dropped away and he began walking toward his +house. He had taken only a few steps, however, before he turned, +and, without looking at me, asked if I would like to see the +tools he used for trimming his hedge. When I hesitated, for I was +decidedly uncomfortable, he came up to me and laid his hand +awkwardly on my arm. + +"You'll see something, I warrant, you never see before." + +It was so evident that he regretted his outbreak that I followed +him, and he showed me an odd double ladder set on low wheels +which he said he used in trimming the higher parts of his hedge. + +"It's my own invention," he said with pride. + +"And that"--he pointed as we came out of the tool shed--"is my +house--a good house. I planned it all myself. I never needed to +take lessons of any carpenter I ever see. And there's my barns. +What do you think o' my barns? Ever see any bigger ones? They +ain't any bigger in this country than Old Toombs's barns. They +don't like Old Toombs, but they ain't any of one of 'em can ekal +his barns!" + +He followed me down to the roadside now quite loquacious. Even +after I had thanked him and started to go he called after me. + +When I stopped he came forward hesitatingly--and I had the +impressions, suddenly, and for the first time that he was an old +man. It may have been the result of his sudden fierce explosion +of anger, but his hand shook, his face was pale, and he seemed +somehow broken. + +"You--you like my hedge?" he asked. + +"It is certainly wonderful hedge," I said. "I never have seen +anything like it?" + +"The' AIN'T nothing like it," he responded, quickly. "The' ain't +nothing like it anywhere." + +In the twilight as I passed onward I saw the lonely figure of the +old man moving with his hickory stick up the pathway to his +lonely house. The poor rich old man! + +"He thinks he can live wholly to himself," I said aloud. + +I thought, as I tramped homeward, of our friendly and kindly +community, of how we often come together of an evening with +skylarking and laughter, of how we weep with one another, of how +we join in making better roads and better schools, and building +up the Scotch Preacher's friendly little church. And in all these +things Old Toombs has never had a part. He is not even missed. + + +As a matter of fact, I reflected, and this is a strange, deep +thing, no man is in reality more dependent upon the community +which he despises and holds at arm's length than this same Old +Nathan Toombs. Everything he has, everything he does, gives +evidence of it. And I don't mean this in any mere material sense, +though of course his wealth and his farm would mean no more than +the stones in his hills to him if he did not have us here around +him. Without our work, our buying, our selling, our governing, +his dollars would be dust. But we are still more necessary to him +in other ways: the unfriendly man is usually the one who demands +most from his neighbours. Thus, if he have not people's love or +confidence, then he will smite them until they fear him, or +admire him, or hate him. Oh, no man, however may try, can hold +himself aloof! + +I came home deeply stirred from my visit with Old Toombs and lost +no time in making further inquiries. I learned, speedily, that +there was indeed something in the old man's dread of a road being +built through his farm. The case was already in the courts. His +farm was a very old one and extensive, and of recent years a +large settlement of small farmers had been developing the rougher +lands in the upper part of the townships called the Swan Hill +district. Their only way to reach the railroad was by a rocky, +winding road among the 'hills,' while their outlet was down a +gently sloping valley through Old Toombs's farm. They were now so +numerous and politically important that they had stirred up the +town authorities. A proposition had been made to Old Toombs for a +right-of-way; they argued with him that it was a good thing for +the whole country, that it would enhance the values of his own +upper lands, and that they would pay him far more for a +right-of-way than the land was actually worth, but he had spurned +them--I can imagine with what vehemence. + +"Let 'em drive round," he said. "Didn't they know what they'd +have to do when they settled up there? What a passel o' curs! +They can keep off o' my land, or I'll have the law on 'em." + +And thus the matter came to the courts with the town attempting +to condemn the land for a road through Old Toombs's farm. + +"What can we do?" asked the Scotch Preacher, who was deeply +distressed by the bitterness of feeling displayed. "There is no +getting to the man. He will listen to no one." + +At one time I thought of going over and talking with Old Toombs +myself, for it seemed that I had been able to get nearer to him +than any one had in a long time. But I dreaded it. I kept +dallying--for what, indeed, could I have said to him? If he had +been suspicious of me before, how much more hostile he might be +when I expressed an interest in his difficulties. As to reaching +the Swan Hill settlers, they were now aroused to an implacable +state of bitterness; and they had the people of the whole +community with them, for no one liked Old Toombs. + +Thus while I hesitated time passed and my next meeting with Old +Toombs, instead of being premeditated, came about quite +unexpectedly. I was walking in the town road late one afternoon +when I heard a wagon rattling behind me, and then, quite +suddenly, a shouted, "Whoa." + +Looking around, I saw Old Toombs, his great solid figure mounted +high on the wagon seat, the reins held fast in the fingers of one +hand. I was struck by the strange expression in his face--a sort +of grim exaltation. As I stepped aside he burst out in a loud, +shrill, cackling laugh: + +"He-he-he--he-he-he--" + +I was too astonished to speak at once. Ordinarily when I meet any +one in the town road it is in my heart to cry out to him, + +"Good morning, friend," or, "How are you, brother?" but I had no +such prompting that day. + +"Git in, Grayson," he said; "git in, git in." + +I climbed up beside him, and he slapped me on the knee with +another burst of shrill laughter. + +"They thought they had the old man," he said, starting up his +horses. "They thought there weren't no law left in Israel. I +showed 'em." + +I cannot convey the bitter triumphancy of his voice. + +"You mean the road case?" I asked. + +"Road case!" he exploded, "they wan't no road case; they didn't +have no road case. I beat 'em. I says to 'em, 'What right hev any +o' you on my property? Go round with you,' I says. Oh, I beat +'em. If they'd had their way, they'd 'a' cut through my +hedge--the hounds!" + + +When he set me down at my door, I had said hardly a word. There +seemed nothing that could be said. I remember I stood for some +time watching the old man as he rode away, his wagon jolting in +the country road, his stout figure perched firmly in the seat. I +went in with a sense of heaviness at the heart. + +"Harriet," I said, "there are some things in this world beyond +human remedy." + +Two evenings later I was surprised to see the Scotch Preacher +drive up to my gate and hastily tie his horse. + +"David," said he, "there's bad business afoot. A lot of the young +fellows in Swan Hill are planning a raid on Old Toombs's hedge. +They are coming down to-night." + +I got my hat and jumped in with him. We drove up the hilly road +and out around Old Toombs's farm and thus came, near to the +settlement. I had no conception of the bitterness that the +lawsuit had engendered. + +"Where once you start men hating one another," said the Scotch +Preacher, "there's utterly no end of it." + +I have seen our Scotch Preacher in many difficult places, but +never have I seen him rise to greater heights than he did that +night. It is not in his preaching that Doctor McAlway excels, +but what a power he is among men! He was like some stern old +giant, standing there and holding up the portals of civilization. +I saw men melt under his words like wax; I saw wild young fellows +subdued into quietude; I saw unwise old men set to thinking. + +"Man, man," he'd say, lapsing in his earnestness into the broad +Scotch accent of his youth, "you canna' mean plunder, and +destruction, and riot! You canna! Not in this neighbourhood!" + +"What about Old Toombs?" shouted one of the boys. + +I never shall forget how Doctor McAlway drew himself up nor the +majesty that looked from his eye. + +"Old Toombs!" he said in a voice that thrilled one to the bone, +"Old Toombs! Have you no faith, that you stand in the place of +Almighty God and measure punishments?" + +Before we left it was past midnight and we drove home, almost +silent, in the darkness. + +"Doctor McAlway," I said, "if Old Toombs could know the history +of this night it might change his point of view." + +"I doot it," said the Scotch Preacher. "I doot it." + +The night passed serenely; the morning saw Old Toombs's hedge +standing as gorgeous as ever. The community had again stepped +aside and let Old Toombs have his way: they had let him alone, +with all his great barns, his wide acres and his wonderful hedge. +He probably never even knew what had threatened him that night, +nor how the forces of religion, of social order, of +neighbourliness in the community which he despised had, after +all, held him safe. There is a supreme faith among common +people--it is, indeed, the very taproot of democracy--that +although the unfriendly one may persist long in his power and +arrogance, there is a moving Force which commands events. + +I suppose if I were writing a mere story I should tell how Old +Toombs was miraculously softened at the age of sixty-eight years, +and came into new relationships with his neighbours, or else I +should relate how the mills of God, grinding slowly, had crushed +the recalcitrant human atom into dust. + +Either of these results conceivably might have happened--all +things are possible--and being ingeniously related would somehow +have answered a need in the human soul that the logic of events +be constantly and conclusively demonstrated in the lives of +individual men and women. + +But as a matter of fact, neither of these things did happen in +this quiet community of ours. There exists, assuredly, a logic of +events, oh, a terrible, irresistible logic of events, but it is +careless of the span of any one man's life. We would like to have +each man enjoy the sweets of his own virtues and suffer the lash +of his own misdeeds--but it rarely so happens in life. No, it is +the community which lives or dies, is regenerated or marred by +the deeds of men. + +So Old Toombs continued to live. So he continued to buy more +land, raise more cattle, collect more interest, and the wonderful +hedge continued to flaunt its marvels still more notably upon the +country road. To what end? Who knows? Who knows? + +I saw him afterward from time to time, tried to maintain some +sort of friendly relations with him; but it seemed as the years +passed that he grew ever lonelier and more bitter, and not only +more friendless, but seemingly more incapable of friendliness. In +times past I have seen what men call tragedies--I saw once a +perfect young man die in his strength--but it seems to me I never +knew anything more tragic than the life and death of Old Toombs. +If it cannot be said of a man when he dies that either his +nation, his state, his neighborhood, his family, or at least his +wife or child, is better for his having lived, what CAN be said +for him? + +Old Toombs is dead. Like Jehoram, King of Judah, of whom it is +terribly said in the Book of Chronicles, "he departed without +being desired." + +Of this story of Nathan Toombs we talked much and long there in +the Ransome home. I was with them, as I said, about two +days--kept inside most of the time by a driving spring rain which +filled the valley with a pale gray mist and turned all the +country roads into running streams. One morning, the weather +having cleared, I swung my bag to my shoulder, and with much +warmth of parting I set my face again to the free road and the +open country. + + + +CHAPTER IX. THE MAN POSSESSED + +I suppose I was predestined (and likewise foreordained) to reach +the city sooner or later. My fate in that respect was settled for +me when I placed my trust in the vagrant road. I thought for a +time that I was more than a match for the Road, but I soon +learned that the Road was more than a match for me. Sly? There's +no name for it. Alluring, lovable, mysterious--as the heart of a +woman. Many a time I followed the Road where it led through +innocent meadows or climbed leisurely hill slopes only to find +that it had crept around slyly and led me before I knew it into +the back door of some busy town. + +Mostly in this country the towns squat low in the valleys, they +lie in wait by the rivers, and often I scarcely know of their +presence until I am so close upon them that I can smell the +breath of their heated nostrils and hear their low growlings and +grumblings. + +My fear of these lesser towns has never been profound. I have +even been bold enough, when I came across one of them, to hasten +straight through as though assured that Cerberus was securely +chained; but I found, after a time, what I might indeed have +guessed, that the Road, also led irresistibly to the lair of the +Old Monster himself, the He-one of the species, where he lies +upon the plain, lolling under his soiled gray blanket of smoke. + +It is wonderful to be safe at home again, to watch the tender, +reddish brown shoots of the Virginia creeper reaching in at my +study window, to see the green of my own quiet fields, to hear +the peaceful clucking of the hens in the sunny dooryard--and +Harriet humming at her work in the kitchen. + + +When I left the Ransomes that fine spring morning, I had not the +slightest presentiment of what the world held in store for me. +After being a prisoner of the weather for so long, I took to the +Road with fresh joy. All the fields were of a misty greenness and +there were pools still shining in the road, but the air was +deliciously clear, clean, and soft. I came through the hill +country for three or four miles, even running down some of the +steeper places for the very joy the motion gave me, the feel of +the air on my face. + +Thus I came finally to the Great Road, and stood for a moment +looking first this way, then that. + +"Where now?" I asked aloud. + +With an amusing sense of the possibilities that lay open before +me, I closed my eyes, turned slowly around several times and then +stopped. When I opened my eyes I was facing nearly southward: and +that way I set out, not knowing in the least what Fortune had +presided at that turning. If I had gone the other way-- + +I walked vigorously for two or three hours, meeting or passing +many people upon the busy road. Automobiles there were in +plenty, and loaded wagons, and jolly families off for town, and a +herdsman driving sheep, and small boys on their way to school +with their dinner pails, and a gypsy wagon with lean, led horses +following behind, and even a Jewish peddler with a crinkly black +beard, whom I was on the very point of stopping. + +"I should like sometime to know a Jew," I said to myself. + +As I travelled, feeling like one who possesses hidden riches, I +came quite without warning upon the beginning of my great +adventure. I had been looking for a certain thing all the +morning, first on one side of the road, then the other, and +finally I was rewarded. There it was, nailed high upon tree, the +curious, familiar sign: + +[ REST ] + +I stopped instantly. It seemed like an old friend. + +"Well," said I. "I'm not at all tired, but I want to be +agreeable." + +With that I sat down on a convenient stone, took off my hat, +wiped my forehead, and looked about me with satisfaction, for it +was a pleasant country. + +I had not been sitting there above two minutes when my eyes fell +upon one of the oddest specimens of humanity (I thought then) +that ever I saw. He had been standing near the roadside, just +under the tree upon which I had seen the sign, "Rest." My heart +dotted and carried one. + +"The sign man himself!" I exclaimed. + +I arose instantly and walked down the road toward him. + +"A man has only to stop anywhere here," I said exultantly, "and +things happen. + +The stranger's appearance was indeed extraordinary. He seemed at +first glimpse to be about twice as large around the hips as he +was at the shoulders, but this I soon discovered to be due to no +natural avoir-dupois but to the prodigious number of soiled +newspapers and magazines with which the low-hanging pockets of +his overcoat were stuffed. For he was still wearing an old shabby +overcoat though the weather was warm and bright--and on his head +was an odd and outlandish hat. It was of fur, flat at the top, +flat as a pie tin, with the moth-eaten earlaps turned up at the +sides and looking exactly like small furry ears. These, with the +round steel spectacles which he wore--the only distinctive +feature of his countenance--gave him an indescribably droll +appearance. + +"A fox!" I thought. + +Then I looked at him more closely. + +"No," said I, "an owl, an owl!" + +The stranger stepped out into the road and evidently awaited my +approach. My first vivid impression of his face--I remember it +afterward shining with a strange inward illumination--was not +favourable. It was a deep-lined, scarred, worn-looking face, +insignificant if not indeed ugly in its features, and yet, even +at the first glance, revealing something +inexplainable--incalculable-- + +"Good day, friend," I said heartily. + +Without replying to my greeting, he asked: + +"Is this the road to Kilburn?"--with a faint flavour of +foreignness in his words. + +"I think it is," I replied, and I noticed as he lifted his hand +to thank me that one finger was missing and that the hand itself +was cruelly twisted and scarred. + +The stranger instantly set off up the Road without giving me much +more attention than he would have given any other signpost. I +stood a moment looking after him--the wings of his overcoat +beating about his legs and the small furry ears on his cap +wagging gently. + +"There," said I aloud, "is a man who is actually going +somewhere." + +So many men in this world are going nowhere in particular that +when one comes along--even though he be amusing and +insignificant--who is really (and passionately) going somewhere, +what a stir he communicates to a dull world! We catch sparks of +electricity from the very friction of his passage. + +It was so with this odd stranger. Though at one moment I could +not help smiling at him, at the next I was following him. + +"It may be," said I to myself, "that this is really the sign +man!" + +I felt like Captain Kidd under full sail to capture a treasure +ship; and as I approached I was much agitated as to the best +method of grappling and boarding. I finally decided, being a +lover of bold methods, to let go my largest gun first--for moral +effect. + +"So," said I, as I ran alongside, "you are the man who puts up +the signs." + +He stopped and looked at me. + +"What signs?" + +"Why the sign 'Rest' along this road." + +He paused for some seconds with a perplexed expression on his +face. + +"Then you are not the sign man?" I said. + +"No," he replied, "I ain't any sign man." + +I was not a little disappointed, but having made my attack, I +determined to see if there was any treasure aboard--which, I +suppose, should be the procedure of any well-regulated pirate. + +"I'm going this way myself," I said, "and if you have no +objections--" + +He stood looking at me curiously, indeed suspiciously, through +his round spectacles. + +"Have you got the passport?" he asked finally. + +"The passport!" I exclaimed, mystified in my turn. + +"Yes," said he, "the passport. Let me see your hand." + +When I held out my hand he looked at it closely for a moment, and +then took it with a quick warm pressure in one of his, and gave +it a little shake, in a way not quite American. + +"You are one of us," said he, "you work." + +I thought at first that it was a bit of pleasantry, and I was +about to return it in kind when I saw plainly in his face a look +of solemn intent. + +"So," he said, "we shall travel like comrades." + +He thrust his scarred hand through my arm, and we walked up the +road side by side, his bulging pockets beating first against his +legs and then against mine, quite impartially. + +"I think," said the stranger, "that we shall be arrested at +Kilburn." + +"We shall!" I exclaimed with something, I admit, of a shock. + +"Yes," he said, "but it is all in the day's work." + +"How is that?" + +He stopped in the road and faced me. Throwing back his overcoat +he pointed to a small red button on his coat lapel. + +"They don't want me in Kilburn," said he, "the mill men are +strikin' there, and the bosses have got armed men on every +corner. Oh, the capitalists are watchin' for me, all right." + +I cannot convey the strange excitement I felt. It seemed as +though these words suddenly opened a whole new world around me--a +world I had heard about for years, but never entered. And the +tone in which he had used the word "capitalist!" I had almost to +glance around to make sure that there were no ravening +capitalists hiding behind the trees. + +"So you are a Socialist," I said. + +"Yes," he answered. "I'm one of those dangerous persons." + +First and last I have read much of Socialism, and thought about +it, too, from the quiet angle of my farm among the hills, but +this was the first time I had ever had a live Socialist on my +arm. I could not have been more surprised if the stranger had +said, "Yes, I am Theodore Roosevelt." + +One of the discoveries we keep making all our life long (provided +we remain humble) is the humorous discovery of the ordinariness +of the extraordinary. Here was this disrupter of society, this +man of the red flag--here he was with his mild spectacled eyes +and his furry ears wagging as he walked. It was +unbelievable!--and the sun shining on him quite as impartially as +it shone on me. + +Coming at last to a pleasant bit of woodland, where a stream ran +under the roadway, I said: + +"Stranger, let's sit down and have a bite of luncheon." + +He began to expostulate, said he was expected in Kilburn. + +"Oh, I've plenty for two," I said, "and I can say, at least, that +I am a firm believer in cooperation. + +Without more urging he followed me into the woods, where we sat +down comfortably under a tree. + +Now, when I take a fine thick sandwich out of my bag, I always +feel like making it a polite bow, and before I bite into a big +brown doughnut, I am tempted to say, "By your leave, madam," and +as for MINCE PIE----Beau Brummel himself could not outdo me in +respectful consideration. But Bill Hahn neither saw, nor smelled, +nor, I think, tasted Mrs. Ransome's cookery. As soon as we sat +down he began talking. From time to time he would reach out for +another sandwich or doughnut or pickle (without knowing in the +least which he was getting), and when that was gone some reflex +impulse caused him to reach out for some more. When the last +crumb of our lunch had disappeared Bill Hahn still reached out. +His hand groped absently about, and coming in contact with no +more doughnuts or pickles he withdrew it--and did not know, I +think, that the meal was finished. (Confidentially, I have +speculated on what might have happened if the supply had been +unlimited!) + +But that was Bill Hahn. Once started on his talk, he never +thought of food or clothing or shelter; but his eyes glowed, his +face lighted up with a strange effulgence, and he quite lost +himself upon the tide of his own oratory. I saw him afterward by +a flare-light at the centre of a great crowd of men and +women--but that is getting ahead of my story. + +His talk bristled with such words as "capitalism," "proletariat," +"class-consciousness"--and he spoke with fluency of "economic +determinism" and "syndicalism." It was quite wonderful! And from +time to time, he would bring in a smashing quotation from +Aristotle, Napoleon, Karl Marx, or Eugene V. Debs, giving them +all equal value, and he cited statistics!--oh, marvellous +statistics, that never were on sea or land. + +Once he was so swept away by his own eloquence that he sprang to +his feet and, raising one hand high above his head (quite +unconscious that he was holding up a dill pickle), he worked +through one of his most thrilling periods. + +Yes, I laughed, and yet there was so brave a simplicity about +this odd, absurd little man that what I laughed at was only his +outward appearance (and that he himself had no care for), and all +the time I felt a growing respect and admiration for him. He was +not only sincere, but he was genuinely simple--a much higher +virtue, as Fenelon says. For while sincere people do not aim at +appearing anything but what they are, they are always in fear of +passing for something they are not. They are forever thinking +about themselves, weighing all their words and thoughts and +dwelling upon what they have done, in the fear of having done too +much or too little, whereas simplicity, as Fenelon says, is an +uprightness of soul which has ceased wholly to dwell upon itself +or its actions. Thus there are plenty of sincere folk in the +world but few who are simple. + +Well, the longer he talked, the less interested I was in what he +said and the more fascinated I became in what he was. I felt a +wistful interest in him: and I wanted to know what way he took to +purge himself of himself. I think if I had been in that group +nineteen hundred years ago, which surrounded the beggar who was +born blind, but whose anointed eyes now looked out upon glories +of the world, I should have been among the questioners: + +"What did he to thee? How opened he thine eyes?" + +I tried ineffectually several times to break the swift current of +his oratory and finally succeeded (when he paused a moment to +finish off a bit of pie crust). + +"You must have seen some hard experiences in your life," I said. + +"That I have," responded Bill Hahn, "the capitalistic system--" + +"Did you ever work in the mills yourself?" I interrupted hastily. + +"Boy and man," said Bill Hahn, "I worked in that hell for +thirty-two years--The class-conscious proletariat have only to +exert themselves--" + +"And your wife, did she work too--and your sons and daughters?" + +A spasm of pain crossed his face. + +"My daughter?" he said. "They killed her in the mills." + +It was appalling--the dead level of the tone in which he uttered +those words--the monotone of an emotion long ago burned out, and +yet leaving frightful scars. + +"My friend!" I exclaimed, and I could not help laying my hand on +his arm. + +I had the feeling I often have with troubled children--an +indescribable pity that they have had to pass through the valley +of the shadow, and I not there to take them by the hand. + +"And was this--your daughter--what brought you to your present +belief?" + +"No," said he, "oh, no. I was a Socialist, as you might say, from +youth up. That is, I called myself a Socialist, but, comrade, +I've learned this here truth: that it ain't of so much importance +that you possess a belief, as that the belief possess you. Do you +understand?" + +"I think," said I, "that I understand." + +Well, he told me his story, mostly in a curious, dull, detached +way--as though he were speaking of some third person in whom he +felt only a brotherly interest, but from time to time some +incident or observation would flame up out of the narrative, like +the opening of the door of a molten pit--so that the glare hurt +one!--and then the story would die back again into quiet +narrative. + +Like most working people he had never lived in the twentieth +century at all. He was still in the feudal age, and his whole +life had been a blind and ceaseless struggle for the bare +necessaries of life, broken from time to time by fierce irregular +wars called strikes. He had never known anything of a real +self-governing commonwealth, and such progress as he and his kind +had made was never the result of their citizenship, of their +powers as voters, but grew out of the explosive and ragged +upheavals, of their own half-organized societies and unions. + +It was against the "black people" he said, that he was first on +strike back in the early nineties. He told me all about it, how +he had been working in the mills pretty comfortably--he was young +and strong then; with a fine growing family and a small home of +his own. + +"It was as pretty a place as you would want to see," he said; "we +grew cabbages and onions and turnips--everything grew fine!--in +the garden behind the house." + +And then the "black people" began to come in, little by little at +first, and then by the carload. By the "black people" he meant +the people from Southern Europe, he called them "hordes"--"hordes +and hordes of 'em"--Italians mostly, and they began getting into +the mills and underbidding for the jobs, so that wages slowly +went down and at the same time the machines were speeded up. It +seems that many of these "black people" were single men or +vigorous young married people with only themselves to support, +while the old American workers were men with families and little +homes to pay for, and plenty of old grandfathers and mothers, to +say nothing of babies, depending upon them. + +"There wasn't a living for a decent family left," he said. + +So they struck--and he told me in his dull monotone of the long +bitterness of that strike, the empty cupboards, the approach of +winter with no coal for the stoves and no warm clothing for the +children. He told me that many of the old workers began to leave +the town (some bound for the larger cities, some for the Far +West). + +"But," said he with a sudden outburst of emotion, "I couldn't +leave. I had the woman and the children!" + +And presently the strike collapsed, and the workers rushed helter +skelter back to the mills to get their old jobs. "Begging like +whipped dogs," he said bitterly. + +Many of them found their places taken by the eager "black +people," and many had to go to work at lower wages in poorer +places--punished for the fight they had made. + +But he got along somehow, he said--"the woman was a good +manager"-- until one day he had the misfortune to get his hand +caught in the machinery. It was a place which should have been +protected with guards, but was not. He was laid up for several +weeks, and the company, claiming that the accident was due to his +own stupidity and carelessness, refused even to pay his wages +while he was idle. Well, the family had to live somehow, and the +woman and the daughter--"she was a little thing," he said, "and +frail"--the woman and the daughter went into the mill. But even +with this new source of income they began to fall behind. Money +which should have gone toward making the last payments on their +home (already long delayed by the strike) had now to go to the +doctor and the grocer. + +"We had to live," said Bill Hahn. + +Again and again he used this same phrase, "We had to live!" as a +sort of bedrock explanation for all the woes of life. + +After a time, with one finger gone and a frightfully scarred +hand--he held it up for me to see--he went back into the mill. + +"But it kept getting worse and worse," said he, "and finally I +couldn't stand it any longer." + +He and a group of friends got together secretly and tried to +organize a union, tried to get the workmen together to improve +their own condition; but in some way ("they had spies +everywhere," he said) the manager learned of the attempt and one +morning when he reported at the mill he was handed a slip asking +him to call for his wages, that his help was no longer required. + +"I'd been with that one company for twenty years and four +months," he said bitterly, "I'd helped in my small way to build +it up, make it a big concern payin' 28 per cent. dividends every +year; I'd given part of my right hand in doin' it--and they threw +me out like an old shoe." + +He said he would have pulled up and gone away, but he still had +the little home and the garden, and his wife and daughter were +still at work, so he hung on grimly, trying to get some other +job. "But what good is a man for any other sort of work," he +said, "when he has been trained to the mills for thirty-two +years!" + +It was not very long after that when the "great strike" +began--indeed, it grew out of the organization which he had tried +to launched--and Bill Hahn threw himself into it with all his +strength. He was one of the leaders. I shall not attempt to +repeat here his description of the bitter struggle, the coming of +the soldiery, the street riots, the long lists of arrests +("some," said he, "got into jail on purpose, so that they could +at least have enough to eat!"), the late meetings of strikers, +the wild turmoil and excitement. + +Of all this he told me, and then he stopped suddenly, and after a +long pause he said in a low voice: + +"Comrade, did ye ever see your wife and your sickly daughter and +your kids sufferin' for bread to eat?" + +He paused again with a hard, dry sob in his voice. + +"Did ye ever see that?" + +"No," said I, very humbly, "I have never seen anything like +that." + +He turned on me suddenly, and I shall never forget the look on +his face, nor the blaze in his eyes: + +"Then what can you know about working-men?" + +What could I answer? + +A moment passed and then he said, as if a little remorseful at +having turned thus on me: + +"Comrade, I tell you, the iron entered my soul--them days." + +It seems that the leaders of the strike were mostly old employees +like Bill Hahn, and the company had conceived the idea that if +these men could be eliminated the organization would collapse, +and the strikers be forced back to work. One day Bill Hahn found +that proceedings had been started to turn him out of his home, +upon which he had not been able to keep up his payments, and at +the same time the merchant, of whom he had been a respected +customer for years, refused to give him any further credit. + +"But we lived somehow," he said, "we lived and we fought." + +It was then that he began to see clearly what it all meant. He +said he made a great discovery: that the "black people" against +whom they had struck in 1894 were not to blame! + +"I tell you," said he, "we found when we got started that them +black people--we used to call 'em dagoes--were just workin' +people like us--and in hell with us. They were good soldiers, +them Eyetalians and Poles and Syrians, they fought with us to the +end." + +I shall not soon forget the intensely dramatic but perfectly +simple way in which he told me how he came, as he said, "to see +the true light." Holding up his maimed right hand (that trembled +a little), he pointed one finger upward. + +"I seen the big hand in the sky," he said, "I seen it as clear as +daylight." + +He said he saw at last what Socialism meant. One day he went home +from a strikers' meeting--one of the last, for the men were worn +out with their long struggle. It was a bitter cold day, and he +was completely discouraged. When he reached his own street he saw +a pile of household goods on the sidewalk in front of his home. +He saw his wife there wringing her hands and crying. He said he +could not take a step further, but sat down on a neighbour's +porch and looked and looked. "It was curious," he said, "but the +only thing I could see or think about was our old family clock +which they had stuck on top of the pile, half tipped over. It +looked odd and I wanted to set it up straight. It was the clock +we bought when we were married, and we'd had it about twenty +years on the mantel in the livin'-room. It was a good clock," he +said. + +He paused and then smiled a little. + +"I never have figured it out why I should have been able to think +of nothing but that clock," he said, "but so it was." + +When he got home, he found his frail daughter just coming out of +the empty house, "coughing as though she was dyin'." Something, +he said, seemed to stop inside him. Those were his words: +"Something seemed to stop inside 'o me." + +He turned away without saying a word, walked back to strike +headquarters, borrowed a revolver from a friend, and started out +along the main road which led into the better part of the town. + +"Did you ever hear o' Robert Winter?" he asked. + +"No," said I. + +"Well, Robert Winter was the biggest gun of 'em all. He owned the +mills there and the largest store and the newspaper-- he pretty +nearly owned the town." + +He told me much more about Robert Winter which betrayed still a +curious sort of feudal admiration for him, and for his great +place and power; but I need not dwell on it here. He told me how +he climbed through a hemlock hedge (for the stone gateway was +guarded) and walked through the snow toward the great house. + +"An' all the time I seemed to be seein' my daughter Margy right +there before my eyes coughing as though she was dyin'." + +It was just nightfall and all the windows were alight. He crept +up to a clump of bushes under a window and waited there a moment +while he drew out and cocked his revolver. Then he slowly reached +upward until his head cleared the sill and he could look into the +room. "A big, warm room," he described it. + +"Comrade," said he, "I had murder in my heart that night." + +So he stood there looking in with the revolver ready cocked in +his hand. + +"And what do you think I seen there?" he asked. + +"I cannot guess," I said. + +"Well," said Bill Hahn, "I seen the great Robert Winter that we +had been fighting for five long months--and he was down on his +hands and knees on the carpet--he had his little daughter on his +back--and he was creepin' about with her--an' she was laughin'." + +Bill Hahn paused. + +"I had a bead on him," he said, "but I couldn't do it--I just +couldn't do it." + +He came away all weak and trembling and cold, and, "Comrade," he +said, "I was cryin' like a baby, and didn't know why." + +The next day the strike collapsed and there was the familiar +stampede for work-- but Bill Hahn did not go back. He knew it +would be useless. A week later his frail daughter died and was +buried in the paupers field. + +"She was as truly killed," he said, "as though some one had fired +a bullet at her through a window." + +"And what did you do after that?" I asked, when he had paused for +a long time with his chin on his breast. + +"Well," said he, "I did a lot of thinking them days, and I says +to myself: 'This thing is wrong, and I will go out and stop it--I +will go out and stop it.'" + +As he uttered these words, I looked at him curiously--his absurd +flat fur hat with the moth-eaten ears, the old bulging overcoat, +the round spectacles, the scarred, insignificant face--he seemed +somehow transformed, a person elevated above himself, the tool of +some vast incalculable force. + +I shall never forget the phrase he used to describe his own +feelings when he had reached this astonishing decision to go out +and stop the wrongs of the World. He said he "began to feel all +clean inside." + +"I see it didn't matter what become o' me, and I began to feel +all clean inside." + +It seemed, he explained, as though something big and strong had +got hold of him, and he began to be happy. + +"Since then," he said in a low voice, "I've been happier than I +ever was before in all my life. I ain't got any family, nor any +home--rightly speakin'--nor any money, but, comrade, you see here +in front of you, a happy man." + +When he had finished his story we sat quiet for some time. + +"Well," said he, finally, "I must be goin'. The committee will +wonder what's become o' me." + +I followed him out to the road. There I put my hand on his +shoulder, and said: + +"Bill Hahn, you are a better man than I am." + +He smiled, a beautiful smile, and we walked off together down the +road. + +I wish I had gone on with him at that time into the city, but +somehow I could not do it. I stopped near the top of the hill +where one can see in the distance that smoky huddle of buildings +which is known as Kilburn, and though he urged me, I turned aside +and sat down in the edge of a meadow. There were many things I +wanted to think about, to get clear in my mind. + +As I sat looking out toward that great city, I saw three men +walking in the white road. As I watched them, I could see them +coming quickly, eagerly. Presently they threw up their hands and +evidently began to shout, though I could not hear what they said. +At that moment I saw my friend Bill Hahn running in the road, his +coat skirts flapping heavily about his legs. When they met they +almost fell into another's arms. + +I suppose it was so that the early Christians, those who hid in +the Roman catacombs, were wont to greet one another. + + +So I sat thinking. + +"A man," I said to myself, "who can regard himself as a function, +not an end of creation, has arrived." + +After a time I got up and walked down the hill--some strange +force carrying me onward--and came thus to the city of Kilburn. + + + +CHAPTER X. I AM CAUGHT UP INTO LIFE + +I can scarcely convey in written words the whirling emotions I +felt when I entered the city of Kilburn. Every sight, every +sound, recalled vividly and painfully the unhappy years I had +once spent in another and greater city. Every mingled odour of +the streets--and there is nothing that will so surely re-create +(for me) the inner emotion of a time or place as a remembered +odour--brought back to me the incidents of that immemorial +existence. + +For a time, I confess it frankly here, I felt afraid. More than +once I stopped short in the street where I was walking, and +considered turning about and making again for the open country. +Some there may be who will feel that I am exaggerating my +sensations and impressions, but they do not know of my memories +of a former life, nor of how, many years ago, I left the city +quite defeated, glad indeed that I was escaping, and thinking (as +I have related elsewhere) that I should never again set foot upon +a paved street. These things went deep with me. Only the other +day, when a friend asked me how old I was, I responded +instantly--our unpremeditated words are usually truest--with the +date of my arrival at this farm. + +"Then you are only ten years old!" he exclaimed with a laugh, +thinking I was joking. + +"Well," I said, "I am counting only the years worth living." + +No; I existed, but I never really lived until I was reborn, that +wonderful summer here among these hills. + +I said I felt afraid in the streets of Kilburn, but it was no +physical fear. Who could be safer in a city than the man who has +not a penny in his pockets? It was rather a strange, deep, +spiritual shrinking. There seemed something so irresistible about +this life of the city, so utterly overpowering. I had a sense of +being smaller than I had previously felt myself, that in some way +my personality, all that was strong or interesting or original +about me, was being smudged over, rubbed out. In the country I +had in some measure come to command life, but here, it seemed to +me, life was commanding me and crushing me down. It is a +difficult thing to describe: I never felt just that way before. + +I stopped at last on the main street of Kilburn in the very heart +of the town. I stopped because it seemed necessary to me, like a +man in a flood, to touch bottom, to get hold upon something +immovable and stable. It was just at that hour of evening when +the stores and shops are pouring forth their rivulets of humanity +to join the vast flood of the streets. I stepped quickly aside +into a niche near the corner of an immense building of brick and +steel and glass, and there I stood with my back to the wall, and +I watched the restless, whirling, torrential tide of the streets. +I felt again, as I had not felt it before in years, the +mysterious urge of the city--the sense of unending, overpowering +movement. + +There was another strange, indeed uncanny, sensation that began +to creep over me as I stood there. Though hundreds upon hundreds +of men and women were passing me every minute, not one of them +seemed to see me. Most of them did not even look in my direction, +and those who did turn their eyes toward me see me to glance +through me to the building behind. I wonder if this is at all a +common experience, or whether I was unduly sensitive that day, +unduly wrought up? I began to feel like one clad in garments of +invisibility. I could see, but was not seen. I could feel, but +was not felt. In the country there are few who would not stop to +speak to me, or at least appraise me with their eyes; but here I +was a wraith, a ghost--not a palpable human being at all. For a +moment I felt unutterably lonely. + +It is this way with me. When I have reached the very depths of +any serious situation or tragic emotion, something within me +seems at last to stop--how shall I describe it?--and I rebound +suddenly and see the world, as it were, double--see that my +condition instead of being serious or tragic is in reality +amusing--and I usually came out of it with an utterly absurd or +whimsical idea. It was so upon this occasion. I think it was the +image of my robust self as a wraith that did it. + +"After all," I said aloud taking a firm hold on the good hard +flesh of one of my legs, "this is positively David Grayson." + +I looked out again into that tide of faces--interesting, tired, +passive, smiling, sad, but above all, preoccupied faces. + +"No one," I thought, "seems to know that David Grayson has come +to town." + +I had the sudden, almost irresistible notion of climbing up a +step near me, holding up one hand, and crying out: + +"Here I am, my friends. I am David Grayson. I am real and solid +and opaque; I have plenty of red blood running in my veins. I +assure you that I am a person well worth knowing." + +I should really have enjoyed some such outlandish enterprise, and +I am not at all sure yet that it would not have brought me +adventures and made me friends worth while. We fail far more +often by under-daring than by over-daring. + +But this imaginary object had the result, at least, of giving me +a new grip on things. I began to look out upon the amazing +spectacle before me in a different mood. It was exactly like some +enormous anthill into which an idle traveller had thrust his +cane. Everywhere the ants were running out of their tunnels and +burrows, many carrying burdens and giving one strangely the +impression that while they were intensely alive and active, not +more than half of them had any clear idea of where they were +going. And serious, deadly serious, in their haste! I felt a +strong inclination to stop a few of them and say: + +"Friends, cheer up. It isn't half as bad as you think it is. +Cheer up!" + +After a time the severity of the human flood began to abate, and +here and there at the bottom of that gulch of a street, which had +begun to fill with soft, bluish-gray shadows, the evening lights +a appeared. The air had grown cooler; in the distance around a +corner I heard a street organ break suddenly and joyously into +the lively strains of "The Wearin' o' the Green." + +I stepped out into the street with quite a new feeling of +adventure. And as if to testify that I was now a visible person a +sharp-eyed newsboy discovered me--the first human being in +Kilburn who had actually seen me --and came up with a paper in +his hand. + +"Herald, boss?" + +I was interested in the shrewd, world-wise, humorous look in the +urchin's eyes. + +"No," I began, with the full intent of bantering him into some +sort of acquaintance; but he evidently measured my purchasing +capacity quite accurately, for he turned like a flash to another +customer. "Herald, boss?" + +"You'll have to step lively, David Grayson," I said to myself, +"if you get aboard in this city." + +A slouchy negro with a cigarette in his fingers glanced at me in +passing and then, hesitating, turned quickly toward me. + +"Got a match, boss?" + +I gave him a match. + +"Thank you, boss," and he passed on down the street. + +"I seem to be 'boss' around here," I said. + +This contact, slight as it was, gave me a feeling of warmth, +removed a little the sensation of aloofness I had felt, and I +strolled slowly down the street, looking in at the gay windows, +now ablaze with lights, and watching the really wonderful +procession of vehicles of all shapes and sizes that rattled by on +the pavement. Even at that hour of the day I think there were +more of them in one minute than I see in a whole month at my +farm. + +It's a great thing to wear shabby clothes and an old hat. Some of +the best things I have ever known, like these experiences of the +streets, have resulted from coming up to life from underneath; of +being taken for less than I am rather than for more than I am. + +I did not always believe in this doctrine. For many years--the +years before I was rightly born into this alluring world--I tried +quite the opposite course. I was constantly attempting to come +down to life from above. Instead of being content to carry +through life a sufficiently wonderful being named David Grayson I +tried desperately to set up and support a sort of dummy creature +which, so clad, so housed, so fed, should appear to be what I +thought David Grayson ought to appear in the eyes of the world. +Oh, I spent quite a lifetime trying to satisfy other people! + +Once I remember staying at home, in bed, reading "Huckleberry +Finn," while I sent my trousers out to be mended. + +Well, that dummy Grayson perished in a cornfield. His empty coat +served well for a scarecrow. A wisp of straw stuck out through a +hole in his finest hat. + +And I--the man within--I escaped, and have been out freely upon +the great adventure of life. + +If a shabby coat (and I speak here also symbolically, not +forgetful of spiritual significances) lets you into the +adventurous world of those who are poor it does not on the other +hand rob you of any true friendship among those who are rich or +mighty. I say true friendship, for unless a man who is rich and +mighty is able to see through my shabby coat (as I see through +his fine one), I shall gain nothing by knowing him. + +I've permitted myself all this digression--left myself walking +alone there in the streets of Kilburn while I philosophized upon +the ways and means of life--not without design, for I could have +had no such experiences as I did have in Kilburn if I had worn a +better coat or carried upon me the evidences of security in life. + +I think I have already remarked upon the extraordinary +enlivenment of wits which comes to the man who has been without a +meal or so and does not know when or where he is again to break +his fast. Try it, friend and see! It was already getting along in +the evening, and I knew or supposed I knew no one in Kilburn save +only Bill Hahn, Socialist who was little better off than I was. + +In this emergency my mind began to work swiftly. A score of +fascinating plans for getting my supper and a bed to sleep in +flashed through my mind. + +"Why," said I, "when I come to think of it, I'm comparatively +rich. I'll warrant there are plenty of places in Kilburn, and +good ones, too, where I could barter a chapter of Montaigne and a +little good conversation for a first-rate supper, and I've no +doubt that I could whistle up a bed almost anywhere!" + +I thought of a little motto I often repeat to myself: + +TO KNOW LIFE, BEGIN ANYWHERE! + +There were several people on the streets of Kilburn that night +who don't know yet how very near they were to being boarded by a +somewhat shabby looking farmer who would have offered them, let +us say, a notable musical production called "Old Dan Tucker," +exquisitely performed on a tin whistle, in exchange for a good +honest supper. + +There was one man in particular--a fine, pompous citizen who came +down the street swinging his cane and looking as though the +universe was a sort of Christmas turkey, lying all brown and +sizzling before him ready to be carved--a fine pompous citizen +who never realized how nearly Fate with a battered volume of +Montaigne in one hand and a tin whistle in the other--came to +pouncing upon him that evening! And I am firmly convinced that if +I had attacked him with the Great Particular Word he would have +carved me off a juicy slice of the white breast meat. + +"I'm getting hungry," I said; "I must find Bill Hahn!" + +I had turned down a side street, and seeing there in front of a +building a number of lounging men with two or three cabs or +carriages standing nearby in the street I walked up to them. It +was a livery barn. + +Now I like all sorts of out-of-door people: I seem to be related +to them through horses and cattle and cold winds and sunshine. I +like them and understand them, and they seem to like me and +understand me. So I walked up to the group of jolly drivers and +stablemen intending to ask my directions. The talking died out +and they all turned to look at me. I suppose I was not altogether +a familiar type there in the city streets. My bag, especially, +seemed to set me apart as a curious person. + +"Friends," I said, "I am a farmer--" + +They all broke out laughing; they seemed to know it already! I +was just a little taken aback, but I laughed, too, knowing that +there was a way of getting at them if only I could find it. + +"It may surprise you," I said, but this is the first time in some +dozen years that I've been in a big city like this." + +"You hadn't 'ave told us, partner!" said one of them, evidently +the wit of the group, in a rich Irish brogue. + +"Well," I responded, laughing with the best of them, "you've been +living right here all the time, and don't realize how amusing and +curious the city looks to me. Why, I feel as though I had been +away sleeping for twenty years, like Rip Van Winkle. When I left +the city there was scarcely an automobile to be seen +anywhere--and now look at them snorting through the streets. I +counted twenty-two passing that corner up there in five minutes +by the clock." + +This was a fortunate remark, for I found instantly that the +invasion of the automobile was a matter of tremendous import to +such Knights of Bucephalus as these. + +At first the wit interrupted me with amusing remarks, as wits +will, but I soon had him as quiet as the others. For I have found +the things that chiefly interest people are the things they +already know about--provided you show them that these common +things are still mysterious, still miraculous, as indeed they +are. + +After a time some one pushed me a stable stool and I sat down +among them, and we had quite a conversation, which finally +developed into an amusing comparison (I wish I had room to repeat +it here) between the city and the country. I told them something +about my farm, how much I enjoyed it, and what a wonderful free +life one had in the country. In this I was really taking an +unfair advantage of them, for I was trading on the fact that +every man, down deep in his heart, has more or less of an +instinct to get back to the soil--at least all outdoor men have. +And when I described the simplest things about my barn, and the +cattle and pigs, and the bees--and the good things we have to +eat--I had every one of them leaning forward and hanging on my +words. + +Harriet sometimes laughs at me for the way I celebrate farm life. +She says all my apples are the size of Hubbard squashes, my eggs +all double-yolked, and my cornfields tropical jungles. Practical +Harriet! My apples may not ALL be the size of Hubbard squashes, +but they are good, sizable apples, and as for flavour--all the +spices of Arcady--! And I believe, I KNOW, from my own experience +that these fields and hills are capable of healing men's souls. +And when I see people wandering around a lonesome city like +Kilburn, with never a soft bit of soil to put their heels into, +nor a green thing to cultivate, nor any corn or apples or honey +to harvest, I feel--well, that they are wasting their time. + +(It's a fact, Harriet!) + + +Indeed I had the most curious experience with my friend the +wit--his name I soon learned was Healy--a jolly, round, +red-nosed, outdoor chap with fists that looked like small-sized +hams, and a rich, warm Irish voice. At first he was inclined to +use me as the ready butt of his lively mind, but presently he +became so much interested in what I was saying that he sat +squarely in front of me with both his jolly eyes and his smiling +mouth wide open. + +"If ever you pass my way," I said to him, "just drop in and I'll +give you a dinner of baked beans"--and I smacked--"and home made +bread" and I smacked again--"and pumpkin pie"--and I smacked a +third time--"that will make your mouth water." + +All this smacking and the description of baked beans and pumpkin +pie had an odd counter effect upon ME; for I suddenly recalled my +own tragic state. So I jumped up quickly and asked directions for +getting down to the mill neighbourhood, where I hoped to find +Bill Hahn. My friend Healy instantly volunteered the information. + +"And now," I said, "I want to ask a small favour of you. I'm +looking for a friend, and I'd like to leave my bag here for the +night." + +"Sure, sure," said the Irishman heartily. "Put it there in the +office--on top o' the desk. It'll be all right." + +So I put it in the office and was about to say good-bye, when my +friend said to me: + +"Come in, partner, and have a drink before you go"--and he +pointed to a nearby saloon. + +"Thank you," I answered heartily, for I knew it was as fine a bit +of hospitality as he could offer me, "thank you, but I must find +my friend before it gets too late." + +"Aw, come on now," he cried, taking my arm. "Sure you'll be +better off for a bit o' warmth inside." + +I had hard work to get away from them, and I am as sure as can be +that they would have found supper and a bed for me if they had +known I needed either. + +"Come agin," Healy shouted after me, "we're glad to see a farmer +any toime." + +My way led me quickly out of the well-groomed and glittering main +streets of the town. I passed first through several blocks of +quiet residences, and then came to a street near the river which +was garishly lighted, and crowded with small, poor shops and +stores, with a saloon on nearly every corner. I passed a huge, +dark, silent box of a mill, and I saw what I never saw before in +a city, armed men guarding the streets. + +Although it was growing late--it was after nine o'clock--crowds +of people were still parading the streets, and there was +something intangibly restless, something tense, in the very +atmosphere of the neighbourhood. It was very plain that I had +reached the strike district. I was about to make some further +inquiries for the headquarters of the mill men or for Bill Hahn +personally, when I saw, not far ahead of me, a black crowd of +people reaching out into the street. Drawing nearer I saw that an +open space or block between two rows of houses was literally +black with human beings, and in the centre on a raised platform, +under a gasolene flare, I beheld my friend of the road, Bill +Hahn. The overcoat and the hat with the furry ears had +disappeared, and the little man stood there bare-headed, before +that great audience. + +My experience in the world is limited, but I have never heard +anything like that speech for sheer power. It was as unruly and +powerful and resistless as life itself. It was not like any other +speech I ever heard, for it was no mere giving out by the orator +of ideas and thoughts and feelings of his own. It seemed +rather--how shall I describe it?--as though the speaker was +looking into the very hearts of that vast gathering of poor men +and poor women and merely telling them what they themselves felt, +but could not tell. And I shall never forget the breathless hush +of the people or the quality of their responses to the orator's +words. It was as though they said, "Yes, yes" with a feeling of +vast relief--"Yes, yes--at last our own hopes and fears and +desires are being uttered--yes, yes." + +As for the orator himself, he held up one maimed hand and leaned +over the edge of the platform, and his undistinguished face +glowed with the white light of a great passion within. The man +had utterly forgotten himself. + +I confess, among those eager working people, clad in their poor +garments, I confess I was profoundly moved. Faith is not so +bounteous a commodity in this world that we can afford to treat +even its unfamiliar manifestations with contempt. And when a +movement is hot with life, when it stirs common men to their +depths, look out! look out! + +Up to that time I had never known much of the practical workings +of Socialism; and the main contention of its philosophy has never +accorded wholly with my experience in life. + +But the Socialism of to-day is no mere abstraction--as it was, +perhaps, in the days of Brook Farm. It is a mode of action. Men +whose view of life is perfectly balanced rarely soil themselves +with the dust of battle. The heat necessary to produce social +conflict (and social progress--who knows?) is generated by a +supreme faith that certain principles are universal in their +application when in reality they are only local or temporary. + +Thus while one may not accept the philosophy of Socialism as a +final explanation of human life, he may yet look upon Socialism +in action as a powerful method of stimulating human progress. The +world has been lagging behind in its sense of brotherhood, and we +now have the Socialists knit together in a fighting friendship as +fierce and narrow in its motives as Calvinism, pricking us to +reform, asking the cogent question: + +"Are we not all brothers?" + +Oh, we are going a long way with these Socialists, we are going +to discover a new world of social relationships--and then, and +then, like a mighty wave; will flow in upon us a renewed and more +wonderful sense of the worth of the individual human soul. A new +individualism, bringing with it, perhaps, some faint realization +of our dreams of a race of Supermen, lies just beyond! Its +prophets, girded with rude garments and feeding upon the wild +honey of poverty, are already crying in the wilderness. + +I think I could have remained there at the Socialist meeting all +night long: there was something about it that brought a hard, dry +twist to my throat. But after a time my friend Bill Hahn, +evidently quite worn out, yielded his place to another and far +less clairvoyant speaker, and the crowd, among whom I now +discovered quite a number of policemen, began to thin out. + + +I made my way forward and saw Bill Hahn and several other men +just leaving the platform. I stepped up to him, but it was not +until I called him by name (I knew how absent minded he was!) +that he recognized me. + +"Well, well," he said; "you came after all!" + +He seized me by both arms and introduced me to several of his +companions as "Brother Grayson." They all shook hands with me +warmly. + +Although he was perspiring, Bill put on his overcoat and the old +fur hat with the ears, and as he now took my arm I could feel one +of his bulging pockets beating against my leg. I had not the +slightest idea where they were going, but Bill held me by the arm +and presently we came, a block or so distant, to a dark, narrow +stairway leading up from the street. I recall the stumbling sound +of steps on the wooden boards, a laugh or two, the high voice of +a woman asserting and denying. Feeling our way along the wall, we +came to the top and went into a long, low, rather dimly lighted +room set about with tables and chairs--a sort of restaurant. A +number of men and a few women had already gathered there. Among +them my eyes instantly singled out a huge, rough-looking man who +stood at the centre of an animated group. He had thick, shaggy +hair, and one side of his face over the cheekbone was of a dull +blue-black and raked and scarred, where it had been burned in a +Powder blast. He had been a miner. His gray eyes, which had a +surprisingly youthful and even humorous expression, looked out +from under coarse, thick, gray brows. A very remarkable face and +figure he presented. I soon learned that he was R--- D---, the +leader of whom I had often heard, and heard no good thing. He +was quite a different type from Bill Hahn: he was the man of +authority, the organizer, the diplomat--as Bill was the prophet, +preaching a holy war. + +How wonderful human nature is! Only a short time before I had +been thrilled by the intensity of the passion of the throng, but +here the mood suddenly changed to one of friendly gayety. Fully a +third of those present were women, some of them plainly from the +mills and some of them curiously different--women from other +walks in life who had thrown themselves heart and soul into the +strike. Without ceremony but with much laughing and joking, they +found their places around the tables. A cook, who appeared in a +dim doorway was greeted with a shout, to which he responded with +a wide smile, waving the long spoon which he held in his hand. + +I shall not attempt to give any complete description of the +gathering or of what they said or did. I think I could devote a +dozen pages to the single man who was placed next to me. I was +interested in him from the outset. The first thing that struck me +about him was an air of neatness, even fastidiousness, about his +person--though he wore no stiff collar, only a soft woollen shirt +without a necktie. He had the long sensitive, beautiful hands of +an artist, but his face was thin and marked with the pallor +peculiar to the indoor worker. I soon learned that he was a +weaver in the mills, an Englishman by birth, and we had not +talked two minutes before I found that, while he had never had +any education in the schools, he had been a gluttonous reader of +books-- all kind of books--and, what is more, had thought about +them and was ready with vigorous (and narrow) opinions about this +author or that. And he knew more about economics and sociology, I +firmly believe, than half the college professors. A truly +remarkable man. + +It was an Italian restaurant, and I remember how, in my hunger, I +assailed the generous dishes of boiled meat and spaghetti. A red +wine was served in large bottles which circulated rapidly around +the table, and almost immediately the room began to fill with +tobacco smoke. Every one seemed to be talking and laughing at +once, in the liveliest spirit of good fellowship. They joked from +table to table, and sometimes the whole room would quiet down +while some one told a joke, which invariably wound up with a roar +of laughter. + +"Why," I said, "these people have a whole life, a whole society, +of their own!" + +In the midst of this jollity the clear voice of a girl rang out +with the first lines of a song. Instantly the room was hushed: + +Arise, ye prisoners of starvation, +Arise, ye wretched of the earth, +For justice thunders condemnation +A better world's in birth. + +These were the words she sang, and when the clear, sweet voice +died down the whole company, as though by a common impulse, arose +from their chairs, and joined in a great swelling chorus: + +It is the final conflict, +Let each stand in his place, +The Brotherhood of Man +Shall be the human race. + +It was beyond belief, to me, the spirit with which these words +were sung. In no sense with jollity--all that seemed to have been +dropped when they came to their feet--but with an unmistakable +fervour of faith. Some of the things I had thought and dreamed +about secretly among the hills of my farm all these years, +dreamed about as being something far off and as unrealizable as +the millennium, were here being sung abroad with jaunty faith by +these weavers of Kilburn, these weavers and workers whom I had +schooled myself to regard with a sort of distant pity. + +Hardly had the company sat down again, with a renewal of the flow +of jolly conversation When I heard a rapping on one of the +tables. I saw the great form of R--- D--- slowly rising. + +"Brothers and sisters," he said, "a word of caution. The +authorities will lose no chance of putting us in the wrong. Above +all we must comport ourselves here and in the strike with great +care. We are fighting a great battle, bigger than we are--" + +At this instant the door from the dark hallway suddenly opened +and a man in a policeman's uniform stepped in. There fell an +instant's dead silence--an explosive silence. Every person there +seemed to be petrified in the position in which his attention was +attracted. Every eye was fixed on the figure at the door. For an +instant no one said a word; then I heard a woman's shrill voice, +like a rifle-shot: + +"Assassin!" + +I cannot imagine what might have happened next, for the feeling +in the room, as in the city itself, was at the tensest, had not +the leader suddenly brought the goblet which he held in his hand +down with a bang upon the table. + +"As I was saying," he continued in a steady, clear voice, "we are +fighting to-day the greatest of battles, and we cannot permit +trivial incidents, or personal bitterness, or small persecutions, +to turn us from the great work we have in hand. However our +opponents may comport themselves, we must be calm, steady, sure, +patient, for we know that our cause is just and will prevail." + +"You're right," shouted a voice back in the room. + +Instantly the tension relaxed, conversation started again and +every one turned away from the policeman at the door. In a few +minutes, he disappeared without having said a word. + +There was no regular speaking, and about midnight the party began +to break up. I leaned over and said to my friend Bill Hahn: + +"Can you find me a place to sleep tonight?" + +"Certainly I can," he said heartily. + +There was to be a brief conference of the leaders after the +supper, and those present soon departed. I went down the long, +dark stairway and out into the almost deserted street. Looking up +between the buildings I could see the clear blue sky and the +stars. And I walked slowly up and down awaiting my friend and +trying, vainly to calm my whirling emotions. + +He came at last and I went with him. That night I slept scarcely +at all, but lay looking up into the darkness. And it seemed as +though, as I lay there, listening, that I could hear the city +moving in its restless sleep and sighing as with heavy pain. All +night long I lay there thinking. + + + +CHAPTER XI. I COME TO GRAPPLE WITH THE CITY +I have laughed heartily many times since I came home to think of +the Figure of Tragedy I felt myself that morning in the city of +Kilburn. I had not slept well, had not slept at all, I think, and +the experiences and emotions of the previous night still lay +heavy upon me. Not before in many years had I felt such a +depression of the spirits. + +It was all so different from the things I love! Not so much as a +spear of grass or a leafy tree to comfort the eye, or a bird to +sing; no quiet hills, no sight of the sun coming up in the +morning over dewy fields, no sound of cattle in the lane, no +cheerful cackling of fowls, nor buzzing of bees! That morning, I +remember, when I first went out into those squalid streets and +saw everywhere the evidences of poverty, dirt, and ignorance--and +the sweet, clean country not two miles away--the thought of my +own home among the hills (with Harriet there in the doorway) came +upon me with incredible longing. + +"I must go home; I must go home!" I caught myself saying aloud. + +I remember how glad I was when I found that my friend Bill Hahn +and other leaders of the strike were to be engaged in conferences +during the forenoon, for I wanted to be alone, to try to get a +few things straightened out in my mind. + +But I soon found that a city is a poor place for reflection or +contemplation. It bombards one with an infinite variety of new +impressions and new adventures; and I could not escape the +impression made by crowded houses, and ill-smelling streets, and +dirty sidewalks, and swarming human beings. For a time the burden +of these things rested upon my breast like a leaden weight; they +all seemed so utterly wrong to me, so unnecessary; so unjust! I +sometimes think of religion as only a high sense of good order; +and it seemed to me that morning as though the very existence of +this disorderly mill district was a challenge to religion, and an +offence to the Orderer of an Orderly Universe. I don't now how +such conditions may affect other people, but for a time I felt a +sharp sense of impatience--yes, anger--with it all. I had an +impulse to take off my coat then and there and go at the job of +setting things to rights. Oh, I never was more serious in my +life: I was quite prepared to change the entire scheme of things +to my way of thinking whether the people who lived there liked it +or not. It seemed to me for a few glorious moments that I had +only to tell them of the wonders in our country, the pleasant, +quiet roads, the comfortable farmhouses, the fertile fields, and +the wooded hills--and, poof! all this crowded poverty would +dissolve and disappear, and they would all come to the country +and be as happy as I was. + +I remember how, once in my life, I wasted untold energy trying to +make over my dearest friends. There was Harriet, for example, +dear, serious, practical Harriet. I used to be fretted by the way +she was forever trying to clip my wing feathers--I suppose to +keep me close to the quiet and friendly and unadventurous roost! +We come by such a long, long road, sometimes, to the acceptance +of our nearest friends for exactly what they are. Because we are +so fond of them we try to make them over to suit some curious +ideal of perfection of our own--until one day we suddenly laugh +aloud at our own absurdity (knowing that they are probably trying +as hard to reconstruct us as we are to reconstruct them) and +thereafter we try no more to change them, we just love 'em and +enjoy 'em! + +Some such psychological process went on in my consciousness that +morning. As I walked briskly through the streets I began to look +out more broadly around me. It was really a perfect spring +morning, the air crisp, fresh, and sunny, and the streets full of +life and activity. I looked into the faces of the people I met, +and it began to strike me that most of them seemed oblivious of +the fact that they should, by good rights, be looking downcast +and dispirited. They had cheered their approval the night before +when the speakers had told them how miserable they were (even +acknowledging that they were slaves), and yet here they were +this morning looking positively good-humoured, cheerful, some of +them even gay. I warrant if I had stepped up to one of them that +morning and intimated that he was a slave he would have--well, I +should have had serious trouble with him! There was a degree of +sociability in those back streets, a visiting from window to +window, gossipy gatherings in front area-ways, a sort of pavement +domesticity, that I had never seen before. Being a lover myself +of such friendly intercourse I could actually feel the hum and +warmth of that neighbourhood. + +A group of brightly clad girl strikers gathered on a corner were +chatting and laughing, and children in plenty ran and shouted at +their play in the street. I saw a group of them dancing merrily +around an Italian hand-organ man who was filling the air with +jolly music. I recall what a sinking sensation I had at the pit +of my reformer's stomach when it suddenly occurred to me that +these people some of them, anyway, might actually LIKE this +crowded, sociable neighbourhood! "They might even HATE the +country," I exclaimed. + +It is surely one of the fundamental humours of life to see +absurdly serious little human beings (like D. G. for example) +trying to stand in the place of the Almighty. We are so +confoundedly infallible in our judgments, so sure of what is good +for our neighbour, so eager to force upon him our particular +doctors or our particular remedies; we are so willing to put our +childish fingers into the machinery of creation--and we howl so +lustily when we get them pinched! + +"Why!" I exclaimed, for it came to me like a new discovery, "it's +exactly the same here as it is in the country! I haven't got to +make over the universe: I've only got to do my own small job, and +to look up often at the trees and the hills and the sky and be +friendly with all men." + +I cannot express the sense of comfort, and of trust, which this +reflection brought me. I recall stopping just then at the corner +of a small green city square, for I had now reached the better +part of the city, and of seeing with keen pleasure the green of +the grass and the bright colour of a bed of flowers, and two or +three clean nursemaids with clean baby cabs, and a flock of +pigeons pluming themselves near a stone fountain, and an old +tired horse sleeping in the sun with his nose buried in a feed +bag. + +"Why," I said, "all this, too, is beautiful!" So I continued my +walk with quite a new feeling in my heart, prepared again for any +adventure life might have to offer me. + +I supposed I knew no living soul in Kilburn but Bill the +Socialist. What was my astonishment and pleasure, then in one of +the business streets to discover a familiar face and figure. A +man was just stepping from an automobile to the sidewalk. For an +instant; in that unusual environment, I could not place him, then +I stepped up quickly and said: + +"Well, well, Friend Vedder." + +He looked around with astonishment at the man in the shabby +clothes--but it was only for an instant. + +"David Grayson!" he exclaimed, "and how did YOU get into the +city?" + +"Walked," I said. + +"But I thought you were an incurable and irreproachable +countryman! Why are you here?" + +"Love o' life," I said; "love o' life." + +"Where are you stopping?" I waved my hand. + +"Where the road leaves me," I said. "Last night I left my bag +with some good friends I made in front of a livery stable and I +spent the night in the mill district with a Socialist named Bill +Hahn." + +"Bill Hahn!" The effect upon Mr. Vedder was magical. + +"Why, yes," I said, "and a remarkable man he is, too." + +I discovered immediately that my friend was quite as much +interested in the strike as Bill Hahn, but on the other side. He +was, indeed, one of the directors of the greatest mill in +Kilburn--the very one which I had seen the night before +surrounded by armed sentinels. It was thrilling to me, this +knowledge, for it seemed to plump me down at once in the middle +of things--and soon, indeed, brought me nearer to the brink of +great events than ever I was before in all my days. + +I could see that Mr. Vedder considered Bill Hahn as a sort of +devouring monster, a wholly incendiary and dangerous person. So +terrible, indeed, was the warning he gave me (considering me, I +suppose an unsophisticated person) that I couldn't help laughing +outright. + +"I assure you--" he began, apparently much offended. + +But I interrupted him. + +"I'm sorry I laughed," I said, "but as you were talking about +Bill Hahn, I couldn't help thinking of him as I first saw him." +And I gave Mr. Vedder as lively a description as I could of the +little man with his bulging coat tails, his furry ears, his odd +round spectacles. He was greatly interested in what I said and +began to ask many questions. I told him with all the earnestness +I could command of Bill's history and of his conversion to his +present beliefs. I found that Mr. Vedder had known Robert Winter +very well indeed, and was amazed at the incident which I narrated +of Bill Hahn's attempt upon his life. + +I have always believed that if men could be made to understand +one another they would necessarily be friendly, so I did my best +to explain Bill Hahn to Mr. Vedder. + +"I'm tremendously interested in what you say," he said, "and we +must have more talk about it." + +He told me that he had now to put in an appearance at his office, +and wanted me to go with him; but upon my objection he pressed me +to take luncheon with him a little later, an invitation which I +accepted with real pleasure. + +"We haven't had a word about gardens," he said, "and there are no +end of things that Mrs. Vedder and I found that we wanted to talk +with you about after you had left us." + +"Well!" I said, much delighted, "let's have a regular +old-fashioned country talk." + +So we parted for the time being, and I set off in the highest +spirits to see something more of Kilburn. + +A city, after all, is a very wonderful place. One thing, I +recall, impressed me powerfully that morning--the way in which +every one was working, apparently without any common agreement or +any common purpose, and yet with a high sort of understanding. +The first hearing of a difficult piece of music (to an +uncultivated ear like mine) often yields nothing but a confused +sense of unrelated motives, but later and deeper hearings reveal +the harmony which ran so clear in the master's soul. + +Something of this sort happened to me in looking out upon the +life of that great city of Kilburn. All about on the streets, in +the buildings, under ground and above ground, men were walking, +running, creeping, crawling, climbing, lifting, digging, driving, +buying, selling, sweating, swearing, praying, loving, hating, +struggling, failing, sinning, repenting--all working and living +according to a vast harmony, which sometimes we can catch clearly +and sometimes miss entirely. I think, that morning, for a time, I +heard the true music of the spheres, the stars singing together. + +Mr. Vedder took me to a quiet restaurant where we had a snug +alcove all to ourselves. I shall remember it always as one of the +truly pleasant experiences of my pilgrimage. + +I could see that my friend was sorely troubled, that the strike +rested heavy upon him, and so I led the conversation to the hills +and the roads and the fields we both love so much. I plied him +with a thousand questions about his garden. I told him in the +liveliest way of my adventures after leaving his home, how I had +telephoned him from the hills, how I had taken a swim in the +mill-pond, and especially how I had lost myself in the old +cowpasture, with an account of all my absurd and laughable +adventures and emotions. + +Well, before we had finished our luncheon I had every line ironed +from the brow of that poor plagued rich man, I had brought jolly +crinkles to the corners of his eyes, and once or twice I had him +chuckling down deep inside (Where chuckles are truly effective). +Talk about cheering up the poor: I think the rich are usually far +more in need of it! + +But I couldn't keep the conversation in these delightful +channels. Evidently the strike and all that it meant lay heavy +upon Mr. Vedder's consciousness, for he pushed back his coffee +and began talking about it, almost in a tone of apology. He told +me how kind he had tried to make the mill management in its +dealings with its men. + +"I would not speak of it save in explanation of our true attitude +of helpfulness; but we have really given our men many +advantages"--and he told me of the reading-room the company had +established, of the visiting nurse they had employed, and of +several other excellent enterprises, which gave only another +proof of what I knew already of Mr. Vedder's sincere kindness of +heart. + +"But," he said, "we find they don't appreciate what we try to do +for them." + +I laughed outright. + +"Why," I exclaimed, "you are having the same trouble I have had!" + +"How's that?" he inquired, I thought a little sharply. Men don't +like to have their seriousness trifled with. + +"No longer ago than this morning," I said, "I had exactly that +idea of giving them advantages; but I found that the difficulty +lies not with the ability to give, but with the inability or +unwillingness to take. You see I have a great deal of surplus +wealth myself--" + +Mr. Vedder's eyes flickered up at me. + +"Yes," I said. "I've got immense accumulations of the wealth of +the ages--ingots of Emerson and Whitman, for example, gems of +Voltaire, and I can't tell what other superfluous coinage!" (And +I waved my hand in the most grandiloquent manner.) "I've also +quite a store of knowledge of corn and calves and cucumbers, and +I've a boundless domain of exceedingly valuable landscapes. I am +prepared to give bountifully of all these varied riches (for I +shall still have plenty remaining), but the fact is that this +generation of vipers doesn't appreciate what I am trying to do +for them. I'm really getting frightened, lest they permit me to +perish from undistributed riches!" + +Mr. Vedder was still smiling. + +"Oh," I said, warming up to my idea, "I'm a regular +multimillionaire. I've got so much wealth that I'm afraid I shall +not be as fortunate as jolly Andy Carnegie, for I don't see how I +can possibly die poor!" + +"Why not found a university or so?" asked Mr. Vedder. + +"Well, I had thought of that. It's a good idea. Let's join our +forces and establish a university where truly serious people can +take courses in laughter." + +"Fine idea!" exclaimed Mr. Vedder; "but wouldn't it require an +enormous endowment to accommodate all the applicants? You must +remember that this is a very benighted and illiterate world, +laughingly speaking." + +"It is, indeed," I said, "but you must remember that many people, +for a long time, will be too serious to apply. I wonder sometimes +if any one ever learns to laugh really laugh much before he is +forty." + +"But," said Mr. Vedder anxiously, "do you think such an +institution would be accepted by the proletariat of the +serious-minded?" + +"Ah, that's the trouble," said I, "that's the trouble. The +proletariat doesn't appreciate what we are trying to do for them! +They don't want your reading-rooms nor my Emerson and cucumbers. +The seat of the difficulty seems to be that what seems wealth to +us isn't necessarily wealth for the other fellow." + +I cannot tell with what delight we fenced our way through this +foolery (which was not all foolery, either). I never met a man +more quickly responsive than Mr. Vedder. But he now paused for +some moments, evidently ruminating. + +"Well, David," he said seriously, "what are we going to do about +this obstreperous other fellow?" + +"Why not try the experiment," I suggested, "of giving him what he +considers wealth, instead of what you consider wealth?" + +"But what does he consider wealth?" + +"Equality," said I. + +Mr. Vedder threw up his hands. + +"So you're a Socialist, too!" + +"That," I said, "is another story." + +"Well, supposing we did or could give him this equality you speak +of--what would become of us? What would we get out of it?" + +"Why, equality, too!" I said. + +Mr. Vedder threw up his hands up with a gesture of mock +resignation. + +"Come," said he, "let's get down out of Utopia!" + +We had some further good-humoured fencing and then returned to +the inevitable problem of the strike. While we were discussing +the meeting of the night before which, I learned, had been +luridly reported in the morning papers, Mr. Vedder suddenly +turned to me and asked earnestly: + +"Are you really a Socialist?" + +"Well," said I, "I'm sure of one thing. I'm not ALL Socialist, +Bill Hahn believes with his whole soul (and his faith has made +him a remarkable man) that if only another class of people--his +class--could come into the control of material property, that +all the ills that man is heir to would be speedily cured. But I +wonder if when men own property collectively--as they are going +to one of these days--they will quarrel and hate one another any +less than they do now. It is not the ownership of material +property that interests me so much as the independence of it. +When I started out from my farm on this pilgrimage it seemed to +me the most blessed thing in the world to get away from property +and possession." + +"What are you then, anyway?" asked Mr. Vedder, smiling. + +"Well, I've thought of a name I would like to have applied to me +sometimes," I said. "You see I'm tremendously fond of this world +exactly as it is now. Mr. Vedder, it's a wonderful and beautiful +place! I've never seen a better one. I confess I could not +possibly live in the rarefied atmosphere of a final solution. I +want to live right here and now for all I'm worth. The other day +a man asked me what I thought was the best time of life. 'Why,' I +answered without a thought, 'Now.' It has always seemed to me +that if a man can't make a go of it, yes, and be happy at this +moment, he can't be at the next moment. But most of all, it seems +to me, I want to get close to people, to look into their hearts, +and be friendly with them. Mr. Vedder, do you know what I'd like +to be called?" + +"I cannot imagine," said he. + +"Well, I'd like to be called an Introducer. My friend, Mr. +Blacksmith, let me introduce you to my friend, Mr. Plutocrat. I +could almost swear that you were brothers, so near alike are you! +You'll find each other wonderfully interesting once you get over +the awkwardness of the introduction. And Mr. White Man, let me +present you particularly to my good friend, Mr. Negro. You will +see if you sit down to it that this colour of the face is only +skin deep." + +"It's a good name!" said Mr. Vedder, laughing. + +"It's a wonderful name," said I, "and it's about the biggest and +finest work in the world--to know human beings just as they are, +and to make them acquainted with one another just as they are. +Why, it's the foundation of all the democracy there is, or ever +will be. Sometimes I think that friendliness is the only +achievement of life worth while--and unfriendliness the only +tragedy." + +I have since felt ashamed of myself when I thought how I lectured +my unprotected host that day at luncheon; but it seemed to boil +out of me irresistibly. The experiences of the past two days had +stirred me to the very depths, and it seemed to me I must explain +to somebody how it all impressed me--and to whom better than to +my good friend Vedder? + +As we were leaving the table an idea flashed across my mind which +seemed, at first, so wonderful that it quite turned me dizzy. + +"See here, Mr. Vedder," I exclaimed, "let me follow my occupation +practically. I know Bill Hahn and I know you. Let me introduce +you. If you could only get together, if you could only understand +what good fellows you both are, it might go far toward solving +these difficulties." + +I had some trouble persuading him, but finally he consented, said +he wanted to leave no stone unturned, and that he would meet Bill +Hahn and some of the other leaders, if proper arrangements could +be made. + +I left him, therefore, in excitement, feeling that I was at the +point of playing a part in a very great event. "Once get these +men together," I thought, "and they MUST come to an +understanding." + +So I rushed out to the mill district, saying to myself over and +over (I have smiled about it since!): "We'll settle this strike: +we'll settle this strike: we'll settle this strike." After some +searching I found my friend Bill in the little room over a saloon +that served as strike headquarters. A dozen or more of the +leaders were there, faintly distinguishable through clouds of +tobacco smoke. Among them sat the great R--- D---, his burly +figure looming up at one end of the table, and his strong, rough, +iron-jawed face turning first toward this speaker and then toward +that. The discussion, which had evidently been lively, died down +soon after I appeared at the door, and Bill Hahn came out to me +and we sat down together in the adjoining room. Here I broke +eagerly into an account of the happenings of the day, described +my chance meeting with Mr. Vedder--who was well known to Bill by +reputation--and finally asked him squarely whether he would meet +him. I think my enthusiasm quite carried him away. + +"Sure, I will," said Bill Hahn heartily. + +"When and where?" I asked, "and will any of the other men join +you?" + +Bill was all enthusiasm at once, for that was the essence of his +temperament, but he said that he must first refer it to the +committee. I waited, in a tense state of impatience, for what +seemed to me a very long time; but finally the door opened and +Bill Hahn came out bringing R--- D-- himself with him. We all sat +down together, and R--- D--- began to ask questions (he was +evidently suspicious as to who and what I was); but I think, +after I talked with them for some time that I made them see the +possibilities and the importance of such a meeting. I was greatly +impressed with R--- D---, the calmness and steadiness of the man, +his evident shrewdness. "A real general," I said to myself. "I +should like to know him better." + +After a long talk they returned to the other room, closing the +door behind them, and I waited again, still more impatiently. + +It seems rather absurd now, but at that moment I felt firmly +convinced that I was on the way to the permanent settlement of a +struggle which had occupied the best brains of Kilburn for many +weeks. + +While I was waiting in that dingy ante-room, the other door +slowly opened and a boy stuck his head in. + +"Is David Grayson here?" he asked. + +"Here he is," said I, greatly astonished that any one in Kilburn +should be inquiring for me, or should know where I was. + +The boy came in, looked at me with jolly round eyes for a moment, +and dug a letter out of his pocket. I opened it at once, and +glancing at the signature discovered that it was from Mr. Vedder. + +"He said I'd probably find you at strike headquarters," remarked +the boy. + +This was the letter: marked "Confidential." + +My Dear Grayson: I think you must be something of a hypnotist. +After you left me I began to think of the project you mentioned, +and I have talked it over with one or two of my associates. I +would gladly hold this conference, but it does not now seem wise +for us to do so. The interests we represent are too important to +be jeopardized. In theory you are undoubtedly right, but in this +case I think you will agree with me (when you think it over), we +must not show any weakness. Come and stop with us to-night: Mrs. +Vedder will be overjoyed to see you and we'll have another fine +talk. + +I confess I was a good deal cast down as I read this letter. + +"What interests are so important?" I asked myself, "that they +should keep friends apart?" + +But I was given only a moment for reflection for the door opened +and my friend Bill, together with R--- D---and several other +members of the committee, came out. I put the letter in my +pocket, and for a moment my brain never worked under higher +pressure. What should I say to them now? How could I explain +myself ? + +Bill Hahn was evidently labouring under considerable excitement, +but R--- D--- was as calm as a judge. He sat down in the chair +opposite and said to me: + +"We've been figuring out this proposition of Mr. Vedder's. Your +idea is all right, and it would be a fine thing if we could +really get together as you suggest upon terms of common +understanding and friendship." + +"Just what Mr. Vedder said," I exclaimed. + +"Yes," he continued, "it's all right in theory; but in this case +it simply won't work. Don't you see it's got to be war? Your +friend and I could probably understand each other--but this is a +class war. It's all or nothing with us, and your friend Vedder +knows it as well as we do." + +After some further argument and explanation, I said: + +"I see: and this is Socialism." + +"Yes," said the great R--- D---, "this is Socialism." + +"And it's force you would use," I said. + +"It's force THEY use," he replied. + +After I left the strike headquarters that evening--for it was +almost dark before I parted with the committee--I walked straight +out through the crowded streets, so absorbed in my thoughts that +I did not know in the least where I was going. The street lights +came out, the crowds began to thin away, I heard a strident song +from a phonograph at the entrance to a picture show, and as I +passed again in front of the great, dark, many-windowed mill +which had made my friend Vedder a rich man I saw a sentinel turn +slowly at the corner. The light glinted on the steel of his +bayonet. He had a fresh, fine, boyish face. + +"We have some distance yet to go in this world," I said to +myself, "no man need repine for lack of good work ahead." + +It was only a little way beyond this mill that an incident +occurred which occupied probably not ten minutes of time, and yet +I have thought about it since I came home as much as I have +thought about any other incident of my pilgrimage. I have thought +how I might have acted differently under the circumstances, how I +could have said this or how I ought to have done that--all, of +course, now to no purpose whatever. But I shall not attempt to +tell what I ought to have done or said, but what I actually did +do and say on the spur of the moment. + +It was in a narrow, dark street which opened off the brightly +lighted main thoroughfare of that mill neighbourhood. A girl +standing in the shadows between two buildings said to me as I +passed: + +"Good evening." + +I stopped instantly, it was such a pleasant, friendly voice. + +"Good evening," I said, lifting my hat and wondering that there +should be any one here in this back street who knew me. + +"Where are you going?" she asked. + +I stepped over quickly toward her, hat in hand. She was a mere +slip of a girl, rather comely, I thought, with small childish +features and a half-timid, half-bold look in her eyes. I could +not remember having seen her before. + +She smiled at me--and then I knew! + +Well, if some one had struck me a brutal blow in the face I could +not have been more astonished. + +We know of things!--and yet how little we know until they are +presented to us in concrete form. Just such a little school girl +as I have seen a thousand times in the country, the pathetic +childish curve of the chin, a small rebellious curl hanging low +on her temple. + +I could not say a word. The girl evidently saw in my face that +something was the matter, for she turned and began to move +quickly away. Such a wave of compassion (and anger, too) swept +over me as I cannot well describe. I stepped after her and asked +in a low voice: + +"Do you work in the mills?" + +"Yes, when there's work." + +"What is your name?" + +"Maggie--" + +"Well, Maggie," I said, "let's be friends." + +She looked around at me curiously, questioningly. + +"And friends," I said, "should know something about each other. +You see I am a farmer from the country. I used to live in a city +myself, a good many years ago, but I got tired and sick and +hopeless. There was so much that was wrong about it. I tried to +keep the pace and could not. I wish I could tell you what the +country has done for me." + +We were walking along slowly, side by side, the girl perfectly +passive but glancing around at me from time to time with a +wondering look. I don't know in the least now what prompted me to +do it, but I began telling in a quiet, low voice--for, after all, +she was only a child--I began telling her about our chickens at +the farm and how Harriet had named them all, and one was Frances +E. Willard, and one, a speckled one, was Martha Washington, and I +told her of the curious antics of Martha Washington and of the +number of eggs she laid, and of the sweet new milk we had to +drink, and the honey right out of our own hives, and of the +things growing in the garden. + +Once she smiled a little, and once she looked around at me with a +curious, timid, half-wistful expression in her eyes. + +"Maggie," I said, "I wish you could go to the country." + +"I wish to God I could," she replied. + +We walked for a moment in silence. My head was whirling with +thoughts: again I had that feeling of helplessness, of +inadequacy, which I had felt so sharply on the previous evening. +What could I do? + +When we reached the corner, I said: + +"Maggie, I will see you safely home." + +She laughed--a hard, bitter laugh. + +"Oh, I don't need any one to show me around these streets!" + +"I will see you home," I said. + +So we walked quickly along the street together. + +"Here it is," she said finally, pointing to a dark, mean-looking, +one-story house, set in a dingy, barren areaway. + +"Well, good night, Maggie," I said, "and good luck to you." + +"Good night," she said faintly. + +When I had walked to the corner, I stopped and looked back. She +was standing stock-still just where I had left her--a figure I +shall never forget. + + +I have hesitated about telling of a further strange thing that +happened to me that night--but have decided at last to put it in. +I did not accept Mr. Vedder's invitation: I could not; but I +returned to the room in the tenement where I had spent the +previous night with Bill Hahn the Socialist. It was a small, +dark, noisy room, but I was so weary that I fell almost +immediately into a heavy sleep. An hour or more later I don't +know how long indeed--I was suddenly awakened and found myself +sitting bolt upright in bed. It was close and dark and warm there +in the room, and from without came the muffled sounds of the +city. For an instant I waited, rigid with expectancy. And then I +heard as clearly and plainly as ever I heard anything: + +"David! David!" in my sister Harriet's voice. + +It was exactly the voice in which she has called me a thousand +times. Without an instant's hesitation, I stepped out of bed and +called out: + +"I'm coming, Harriet! I'm coming!" + +"What's the matter?" inquired Bill Hahn sleepily. + +"Nothing," I replied, and crept back into bed. + +It may have been the result of the strain and excitement of the +previous two days. I don't explain it--I can only tell what +happened. + +Before I went to sleep again I determined to start straight for +home in the morning: and having decided, I turned over, drew a +long, comfortable breath and did not stir again, I think, until +long after the morning sun shone in at the window. + + +CHAPTER XII. THE RETURN + +"Everything divine runs with light feet." + +Surely the chief delight of going away from home is the joy of +getting back again. I shall never forget that spring morning when +I walked from the city of Kilburn into the open country, my bag +on my back, a song in my throat, and the gray road stretching +straight before me. I remember how eagerly I looked out across +the fields and meadows and rested my eyes upon the distant hills. +How roomy it all was! I looked up into the clear blue of the sky. +There was space here to breathe, and distances in which the +spirit might spread its wings. As the old prophet says, it was a +place where a man might be placed alone in the midst of the +earth. + +I was strangely glad that morning of every little stream that ran +under the bridges, I was glad of the trees I passed, glad of +every bird and squirrel in the branches, glad of the cattle +grazing in the fields, glad of the jolly boys I saw on their way +to school with their dinner pails, glad of the bluff, red-faced +teamster I met, and of the snug farmer who waved his hand at me +and wished me a friendly good morning. It seemed to me that I +liked every one I saw, and that every one liked me. + +So I walked onward that morning, nor ever have had such a sense +of relief and escape, nor ever such a feeling of gayety. + +"Here is where I belong," I said. "This is my own country. Those +hills are mine, and all the fields, and the trees and the sky-- +and the road here belongs to me as much as it does to any one." + +Coming presently to a small house near the side of the road, I +saw a woman working with a trowel in her sunny garden. It was +good to see her turn over the warm brown soil; it was good to see +the plump green rows of lettuce and the thin green rows of +onions, and the nasturtiums and sweet peas; it was good--after so +many days in that desert of a city--to get a whiff of blossoming +things. I stood for a moment looking quietly over the fence +before the woman saw me. When at last she turned and looked up, I +said: + +"Good morning." + +She paused, trowel in hand. + +"Good morning," she replied; "you look happy." + +I wasn't conscious that I was smiling outwardly. + +"Well, I am," I said; "I'm going home." + +"Then you OUGHT to be happy," said she. + +"And I'm glad to escape THAT," and I pointed toward the city. + +"What?" + +"Why, that old monster lying there in the valley." + +I could see that she was surprised and even a little alarmed. So +I began intently to admire her young cabbages and comment on the +perfection of her geraniums. But I caught her eying me from time +to time as I leaned there on the fence, and I knew that she would +come back sooner or later to my remark about the monster. Having +shocked your friend (not too unpleasantly), abide your time, and +he will want to be shocked again. So I was not at all surprised +to hear her ask: + +"Have you travelled far?" + +"I should say so!" I replied. "I've been on a very long journey. +I've seen many strange sights and met many wonderful people." + +"You may have been in California, then. I have a daughter in +California." + +"No," said I, "I was never in California." + +"You've been a long time from home, you say?" + +"A very long time from home." + +"How long?" + +"Three weeks." + +"Three weeks! And how far did you say you had travelled?" + +"At the farthest point, I should say sixty miles from home." + +"But how can you say that in travelling only sixty miles and +being gone three weeks that you have seen so many strange places +and people?" + +"Why," I exclaimed, "haven't you seen anything strange around +here?'" + +"Why, no--" glancing quickly around her. + +"Well, I'm strange, am I not?" + +"Well--" + +"And you're strange." + +She looked at me with the utmost amazement. I could scarcely keep +from laughing. + +"I assure you," I said, "that if you travel a thousand miles you +will find no one stranger than I am--or you are--nor anything +more wonderful than all this--" and I waved my hand. + +This time she looked really alarmed, glancing quickly toward the +house, so that I began to laugh. + +"Madam," I said, "good morning!" + +So I left her standing there by the fence looking after me, and I +went on down the road. + +"Well," I said, "she'll have something new to talk about. It may +add a month to her life. Was there ever such an amusing world!" + +About noon that day I had an adventure that I have to laugh over +every time I think of it. It was unusual, too, as being almost +the only incident of my journey which was of itself in the least +thrilling or out of the ordinary. Why, this might have made an +item in the country paper! + +For the first time on my trip I saw a man that I really felt like +calling a tramp--a tramp in the generally accepted sense of the +term. When I left home I imagined I should meet many tramps, and +perhaps learn from them odd and curious things about life; but +when I actually came into contact with the shabby men of the +road, I began to be puzzled. What was a tramp, anyway? + +I found them all strangely different, each with his own +distinctive history, and each accounting for himself as logically +as I could for myself. And save for the fact that in none of them +I met were the outward graces and virtues too prominently +displayed, I have come back quite uncertain as to what a +scientist might call type-characteristics. I had thought of +following Emerson in his delightfully optimistic definition of a +weed. A weed, he says, is a plant whose virtues have not been +discovered. A tramp, then, is a man whose virtues have not been +discovered. Or, I might follow my old friend the Professor (who +dearly loves all growing things) in his even kindlier definition +of a weed. He says that it is merely a plant misplaced. The +virility of this definition has often impressed me when I have +tried to grub the excellent and useful horseradish plants out of +my asparagus bed! Let it be then--a tramp is a misplaced man, +whose virtues have not been discovered. + +Whether this is an adequate definition or not, it fitted +admirably the man I overtook that morning on the road. He was +certainly misplaced, and during my brief but exciting experience +with him I discovered no virtues whatever. + +In one way he was quite different from the traditional tramp. He +walked with far too lively a step, too jauntily, and he had with +him a small, shaggy, nondescript dog, a dog as shabby as he, +trotting close at his heels. He carried a light stick, which he +occasionally twirled over in his hand. As I drew nearer I could +hear him whistling and even, from time to time, breaking into a +lively bit of song. What a devil-may-care chap he seemed, anyway! +I was greatly interested. + +When at length I drew alongside he did not seem in the least +surprised. He turned, glanced at me with his bold black eyes, and +broke out again into the song he was singing. And these were the +words of his song--at least, all I can remember of them: + +Oh, I'm so fine and gay, +I'm so fine and gay, +I have to take a dog along, +To kape the ga-irls away. + +What droll zest he put into it! He had a red nose, a globular red +nose set on his face like an overgrown strawberry, and from under +the worst derby hat in the world burst his thick curly hair. + +"Oh, I'm so fine and gay," he sang, stepping to the rhythm of his +song, and looking the very image of good-humoured impudence. I +can't tell how amused and pleased I was--though if I had known +what was to happen later I might not have been quite so +friendly--yes, I would too! + +We fell into conversation, and it wasn't long before I suggested +that we stop for luncheon together somewhere along the road. He +cast a quick appraising eye at my bag, and assented with +alacrity. We climbed a fence and found a quiet spot near a little +brook. + +I was much astonished to observe the resources of my jovial +companion. Although he carried neither bag nor pack and appeared +to have nothing whatever in his pockets, he proceeded, like a +professional prestidigitator, to produce from his shabby clothing +an extraordinary number of curious things--a black tin can with a +wire handle, a small box of matches, a soiled package which I +soon learned contained tea, a miraculously big dry sausage +wrapped in an old newspaper, and a clasp-knife. I watched him +with breathless interest. + +He cut a couple of crotched sticks to hang the pail on and in two +or three minutes had a little fire, no larger than a man's hand, +burning brightly under it. ("Big fires," said he wisely, "are not +for us.") This he fed with dry twigs, and in a very few minutes +he had a pot of tea from which he offered me the first drink. +This, with my luncheon and part of his sausage, made up a very +good meal. + +While we were eating, the little dog sat sedately by the fire. +From time to time his master would say, "Speak, Jimmy." + +Jimmy would sit up on his haunches, his two front paws hanging +limp, turn his head to one side in the drollest way imaginable +and give a yelp. His master would toss him a bit of sausage or +bread and he would catch it with a snap. + +"Fine dog!" commented my companion. + +"So he seems," said I. + +After the meal was over my companion proceeded to produce other +surprises from his pockets--a bag of tobacco, a brier pipe (which +he kindly offered to me and which I kindly refused), and a soiled +packet of cigarette papers. Having rolled a cigarette with +practised facility, he leaned up against a tree, took off his +hat, lighted the cigarette and, having taken a long draw at it, +blew the smoke before him with an incredible air of satisfaction. + +"Solid comfort this here--hey!" he exclaimed. + +We had some further talk, but for so jovial a specimen he was +surprisingly uncommunicative. Indeed, I think he soon decided +that I somehow did not belong to the fraternity, that I was a +"farmer"--in the most opprobrious sense--and he soon began to +drowse, rousing himself once or twice to roll another cigarette, +but finally dropping (apparently, at least) fast asleep. + +I was glad enough of the rest and quiet after the strenuous +experience of the last two days--and I, too, soon began to +drowse. It didn't seem to me then that I lost consciousness at +all, but I suppose I must have done so, for when I suddenly +opened my eyes and sat up my companion had vanished. How he +succeeded in gathering up his pail and packages so noiselessly +and getting away so quickly is a mystery to me. + +"Well," I said, "that's odd." + +Rousing myself deliberately I put on my hat and was about to take +up my bag when I suddenly discovered that it was open. My +rain-cape was missing! It wasn't a very good rain-cape, but it +was missing. + +At first I was inclined to be angry, but when I thought of my +jovial companion and the cunning way in which he had tricked me, +I couldn't help laughing. At the same time I jumped up quickly +and ran down the road. + +"I may get him yet," I said. + +Just as I stepped out of the woods I caught a glimpse of a man +some hundreds of yards away, turning quickly from the main road +into a lane or by-path. I wasn't altogether sure that he was my +man, but I ran across the road and climbed the fence. I had +formed the plan instantly of cutting across the field and so +striking the by-road farther up the hill. I had a curious sense +of amused exultation, the very spirit of the chase, and my mind +dwelt with the liveliest excitement on what I should say or do if +I really caught that jolly spark of impudence + +So I came by way of a thicket along an old stone fence to the +by-road, and there, sure enough, only a little way ahead of me, +was my man with the shaggy little dog close at his heels. He was +making pretty good time, but I skirted swiftly along the edge of +the road until I had nearly overtaken him. Then I slowed down to +a walk and stepped out into the middle of the road. I confess my +heart was pounding at a lively rate. The next time he looked +behind him--guiltily enough, too!--I said in the calmest voice I +could command: + +"Well, brother, you almost left me behind." + +He stopped and I stepped up to him. + +I wish I could describe the look in his face--mingled +astonishment, fear, and defiance. + +"My friend," I said, "I'm disappointed in you." + +He made no reply. + +"Yes, I'm disappointed. You did such a very poor job." + +"Poor job!" he exclaimed. + +"Yes," I said, and I slipped my bag off my shoulder and began to +rummage inside. My companion watched me silently and +suspiciously. + +"You should not have left the rubbers." + +With that I handed him my old rubbers. A peculiar expression came +into the man's face. + +"Say, pardner, what you drivin' at?" + +"Well," I said, "I don't like to see such evidences of haste and +inefficiency." + +He stood staring at me helplessly, holding my old rubbers at +arm's length. + +"Come on now," I said, "that's over. We'll walk along together." + +I was about to take his arm, but quick as a flash he dodged, cast +both rubbers and rain-cape away from him, and ran down the road +for all he was worth, the little dog, looking exactly like a +rolling ball of fur, pelting after him. He never once glanced +back, but ran for his life. I stood there and laughed until the +tears came, and ever since then, at the thought of the expression +on the jolly rover's face when I gave him my rubbers, I've had to +smile. I put the rain-cape and rubbers back into my bag and +turned again to the road. + + +Before the afternoon was nearly spent I found myself very tired, +for my two days' experience in the city had been more exhausting +for me, I think, than a whole month of hard labour on my farm. I +found haven with a friendly farmer, whom I joined while he was +driving his cows in from the pasture. I helped him with his +milking both that night and the next morning, and found his +situation and family most interesting--but I shall not here +enlarge upon that experience. + +It was late afternoon when I finally surmounted the hill from +which I knew well enough I could catch the first glimpse of my +farm. For a moment after I reached the top I could not raise my +eyes, and when finally I was able to raise them I could not see. + +"There is a spot in Arcady--a spot in Arcady--a spot in Arcady--" +So runs the old song. + +There IS a spot in Arcady, and at the centre of it there is a +weather-worn old house, and not far away a perfect oak tree, and +green fields all about, and a pleasant stream fringed with alders +in the little valley. And out of the chimney into the sweet, +still evening air rises the slow white smoke of the supper-fire. + +I turned from the main road, and climbed the fence and walked +across my upper field to the old wood lane. The air was heavy and +sweet with clover blossoms, and along the fences I could see that +the raspberry bushes were ripening their fruit. + +So I came down the lane and heard the comfortable grunting of +pigs in the pasture lot and saw the calves licking one another as +they stood at the gate. + +"How they've grown!" I said. + +I stopped at the corner of the barn for a moment. From within I +heard the rattling of milk in a pail (a fine sound), and heard a +man's voice saying: + +"Whoa, there! Stiddy now!" + +"Dick's milking," I said. + +So I stepped in at the doorway. + +"Lord, Mr. Grayson!" exclaimed Dick, rising instantly and +clasping my hand like a long-lost brother. + +"I'm glad to see you!" + +"I'm glad to see YOU!" + +The warm smell of the new milk, the pleasant sound of animals +stepping about in the stable, the old mare reaching her long head +over the stanchion to welcome me, and nipping at my fingers when +I rubbed her nose-- + +And there was the old house with the late sun upon it, the vines +hanging green over the porch, Harriet's trim flower bed--I crept +along quietly to the corner. The kitchen door stood open. + +"Well, Harriet!" I said, stepping inside. + +"Mercy! David!" + +I have rarely known Harriet to be in quite such a reckless mood. +She kept thinking of a new kind of sauce or jam for supper (I +think there were seven, or were there twelve? on the table before +I got through). And there was a new rhubarb pie such as only +Harriet can make, just brown enough on top, and not too brown, +with just the right sort of hills and hummocks in the crust, and +here and there little sugary bubbles where a suggestion of the +goodness came through--such a pie--! and such an appetite to go +with it! + +"Harriet," I said, "you're spoiling me. Haven't you heard how +dangerous it is to set such a supper as this before a man who is +perishing with hunger? Have you no mercy for me?" + +This remark produced the most extraordinary effect. Harriet was +at that moment standing in the corner near the pump. Her +shoulders suddenly began to shake convulsively. + +"She's so glad I'm home that she can't help laughing," I thought, +which shows how penetrating I really am. + +She was crying. + +"Why, Harriet!" I exclaimed. + +"Hungry!" she burst out, "and j-joking about it!" + +I couldn't say a single word; something--it must have been a +piece of the rhubarb pie--stuck in my throat. So I sat there and +watched her moving quietly about in that immaculate kitchen. +After a time I walked over to where she stood by the table and +put my arm around her quickly. She half turned her head, in her +quick, businesslike way. I noted how firm and clean and sweet her +face was. + +"Harriet," I said, "you grow younger every year." + +No response. + +"Harriet," I said, "I haven't seen a single person anywhere on my +journey that I like as much as I do you." + +The quick blood came up. + +"There--there--David!" she said. + +So I stepped away. + +"And as for rhubarb pie, Harriet--" + +When I first came to my farm years ago there were mornings when I +woke up with the strong impression that I had just been hearing +the most exquisite sounds of music. I don't know whether this is +at all a common experience, but in those days (and farther back +in my early boyhood) I had it frequently. It did not seem exactly +like music either, but was rather a sense of harmony, so +wonderful, so pervasive that it cannot be described. I have not +had it so often in recent years, but on the morning after I +reached home it came to me as I awakened with a strange depth and +sweetness. I lay for a moment there in my clean bed. The morning +sun was up and coming in cheerfully through the vines at the +window; a gentle breeze stirred the clean white curtains, and I +could smell even there the odours of the garden. + +I wish I had room to tell, but I cannot, of all the crowded +experiences of that day--the renewal of acquaintance with the +fields, the cattle, the fowls, the bees, of my long talks with +Harriet and Dick Sheridan, who had cared for my work while I was +away; of the wonderful visit of the Scotch Preacher, of Horace's +shrewd and whimsical comments upon the general absurdity of the +head of the Grayson family--oh, of a thousand things--and how +when I went into my study and took up the nearest book in my +favourite case--it chanced to be "The Bible in Spain"--it opened +of itself at one of my favourite passages, the one beginning: + +"Mistos amande, I am content--" + + +So it's all over! It has been a great experience; and it seems to +me now that I have a firmer grip on life, and a firmer trust in +that Power which orders the ages. In a book I read not long ago, +called "A Modern Utopia," the writer provides in his imaginary +perfect state of society a class of leaders known as Samurai. +And, from time to time, it is the custom of these Samurai to cut +themselves loose from the crowding world of men, and with packs +on their backs go away alone to far places in the deserts or on +Arctic ice caps. I am convinced that every man needs some such +change as this, an opportunity to think things out, to get a new +grip on life, and a new hold on God. But not for me the Arctic +ice cap or the desert! I choose the Friendly Road--and all the +common people who travel in it or live along it--I choose even the +busy city at the end of it. + +I assure you, friend, that it is a wonderful thing for a man to +cast himself freely for a time upon the world, not knowing where +his next meal is coming from, nor where he is going to sleep for +the night. It is a surprising readjuster of values. I paid my +way, I think, throughout my pilgrimage; but I discovered that +stamped metal is far from being the world's only true coin. As a +matter of fact, there are many things that men prize more +highly--because they are rarer and more precious. + +My friend, if you should chance yourself some day to follow the +Friendly Road, you may catch a fleeting glimpse of a man in a +rusty hat, carrying a gray bag, and sometimes humming a little +song under his breath for the joy of being there. And it may +actually happen, if you stop him, that he will take a tin whistle +from his bag and play for you, "Money Musk," or "Old Dan Tucker," +or he may produce a battered old volume of Montaigne from which +he will read you a passage. If such an adventure should befall +you, know that you have met + +Your friend, + +David Grayson. + +P. S.-- Harriet bemoans most of all the unsolved mystery of the +sign man. But it doesn't bother me in the least. I'm glad now I +never found him. The poet sings his song and goes his way. If we +sought him out how horribly disappointed we might be! We might +find him shaving, or eating sausage, or drinking a bottle of +beer. We might find him shaggy and unkempt where we imagined him +beautiful, weak where we thought him strong, dull where we +thought him brilliant. Take then the vintage of his heart and let +him go. As for me, I'm glad some mystery is left in this world. A +thousand signs on my roadways are still as unexplainable, as +mysterious, and as beguiling as this. And I can close my +narrative with no better motto for tired spirits than that of the +country roadside: + +[ REST ] + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg etext of The Friendly Road; New Adventures in +Contentment by David Grayson (pseudonym of Ray Stannard Baker) diff --git a/old/frnrd10.zip b/old/frnrd10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b3aad02 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/frnrd10.zip |