My travels finally brought me to the blacksmith’s shop of one who is now living on the fruit of his earlier industry. In the long ago he cared for the feet of the stagecoach horses, and as they had a way of wanting to be shod at all hours of the day and night, the mighty man worked overtime more often than not. Now he directs while others do the heavy work, or stands at the door of his shop and entertains callers.
As I stood here helping to shoe an ox the “cow-reeve” passed. This is a duly elected official of the town in whom is vested authority to comprehend all “vagrom” cows that may be leading too gay an existence in the streets of Shelburne. These he removes to the pound and shares with the poundmaster such emolument as comes from the sad faced owner of the segregated cow.
As the “cow-reeve” passed there was a great flood of strong language from those idling about, from which I gathered that he was not the most popular man in town; in fact he was more than once invited to go where only the bad are supposed to abide—not conscientious officials who do their duty. It was further suggested that if he desired to have the contour of his nose or other features altered he should attempt to interfere with the oxen awaiting in the open street the attentions of the blacksmith, but he, being a man of peace, opened not his mouth.
And it was thus that I discovered what a “cow-reeve” was. It seems that this official in his zeal for the public good had, a few days before, attempted to uphold the majesty of the law as against the owners of certain oxen, but when the said owners charged on him he discreetly withdrew.
Shoeing an ox is somewhat more complicated and tedious than shooing a hen, but the effects are more lasting. A strong cage is constructed that no ox may break down; the animal is then coaxed within with much noise and slapping, bars are closed on his neck, a heavy cloth is passed beneath the body, one end being pulled aft between his legs. This end and the side are then attached to windlasses which are set up until the ox might easily suppose he is being fitted with a new pair of corsets. The hoof to be shod is next strapped securely to a block, and the incumbent is about as helpless as the first Frenchman in the ditch at Waterloo. After that the shoeing is a mere detail.
The only milestone that I observed during the trip intimated broadly that the miles were twenty-one between Shelburne and Lockport, but I am inclined to believe it somewhat less; for instance, I had only joggled six miles out of the pedometer at Jordan, while those of the neighborhood called it seven. It may be that some time someone in authority has said, “Let there be seven,” and it was seven. All day the pedometer fell just a little short of the local figures.
At Jordan I met three children homing from school, and with Venator, Izaak Walton’s chance acquaintance, could have said, “We are all so happy as to have a fine, fresh, cool morning, and I hope we shall each be the happier in the other’s company. And that I may not lose yours, I shall either abate or amend my pace to enjoy it, knowing that as the Italians say, ‘Good company in a journey makes the way to seem the shorter.’” It seemed that teacher had gone to her home for Thanksgiving, which occurs in this land on October 20th, and as there is but one train each day and that chanced along some time before noon, the natural consequence was that school was dismissed at an early hour.
We discoursed of many things of mutual interest: The surprising fact that in the far country from which I came Thanksgiving does not occur until late in November; the joys of skating; apples; the bumps one receives in this naughty world, this being somewhat personal to the small boy of the party, who had but recently fallen on stony ground and was at the moment nursing a swollen lip. The scene of the accident being near at hand we stepped one side to view it and, having found the identical stone that proved so hard, proceeded on our way. They were quite as ready to be friendly as I, and accepted the stranger as a matter of course without wonder, and made no attempt to learn why I was as I was; we had our little jokes and our hearty laughs and walked thus together for perhaps half a mile, and I think were none the worse for a little light conversation.
At East Jordan I pulled up at the house of Munroe with a hopeful expression on my countenance, and was told by the mistress of the house that she would do the best she could. This consisted of bread and butter, pickled beets, milk and two kinds of cookies, was filling and, so far as I have been able to judge, nourishing.