the friendly road(友好的路)-第12章
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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。
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〃I will not；〃 he said gruffly。
He paused； and looked at the minister with a strange expression in his
small round eyeswas it anger； or was it fear； or could it have been
admiration？
〃If you want to waste your time on fiddlin' farmers' meetingsa man
that knows as little of farmin' as you dowhy 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。
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CHAPTER V。 I PLAY THE PART
OF A SPECTACLE PEDDLER
Yesterday was exactly the sort of a day I love besta spicy； unexpected；
amusing daycrowned 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 lifeis
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 o
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 familyI worked with them in
their garden with great delight most of the forenoonI came； within a
mileto the wide white turnpikethe Great Road。
Now； I usually prefer the little roads； the little； unexpected； curving；
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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 writersthose
leisurely old fellows who took time to write； REALLY write。 The
important thing to me about a road； as about lifeand 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 Roadthe broad；
smooth turnpikerock…bottomed and rolled by a Statewithout 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 endurancenot 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 friendlinessthere 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。〃
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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 longnor was it longbefore 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 sarsaparillaand
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 thatwho 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 repentjust a littleknowing 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
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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 signindeed rather inconspicuousconsisting of
a single word
