"Why should he not go, daddy?" replied my mother, who was accustomed to addressing him in this manner. "Be your own judge of the world, my son, nor ever think bad of it until you have made your virtues an example to others, for they who condemn the world most have least to lay at its door." She then took my hand affectionately, and after gently rebuking my father for his attempt, as she styled it, to excite me to melancholy, which she held to be a great enemy to youth, kissed me and bade me adieu. And I set out, taking the road to Barnstable. They both leaned over the little gate, and twice exchanged adieus with me, as I turned to have a last look at all that had been so dear to my childhood. Faithful old Tray bore me company, and wagged his tail approvingly, and the rose tree tops, as I fancied, waved me a God speed; and the wind whispered joyously; and the birds flirted and sported before me on the sandy road, and tuned their songs to the temper of my feelings.
Between me and Tray there existed the uninterrupted friendship of a lifetime, the recollections of which I have sometimes thought of writing for the benefit of future generations, seeing that to write one's recollections, (to which may be added the recollections of others,) is become extremely fashionable. Tray had been my companion in many an adventure, all of which I thought he at this moment treasured in his memory, and would have recounted were he possessed of the power of speech. Having ascended a piece of rising ground, about a mile from the house, I sat down by the road side, intending to take leave of him and send him back, according to the request of my mother. He immediately planted himself close by my side, laid his great paw incessantly upon my knee, and, with looks of regret, would have expressed the friendship he bore me with caresses. Indeed there seemed a hidden goodness in his heart, a nobleness that caused the current of his friendship to flow with much gentleness, and a singleness in his mute appeals to my approbation, that I could not help contrasting with the insincerity of those dogs who go about the world on two legs, and imagine themselves most valiant when devouring one another.
After resting for a few minutes, and casting a longing look over the scene behind me, recalling, as it did, so many old associations, I told Tray that we must part; and that as he was now well down in years, perhaps we should never more meet again. He seemed to understand all I said to him, and, as I patted him gently upon the head, repaid my friendship by caressing my hand, and turning upon me several sympathetic looks. On telling him that he must go home, he hung his head, and drooped his tail, and moved slowly into the road, several times halting and casting reluctant looks back. Then he stretched himself down in the sand, and placing his head between his great paws, watched me out of sight.
Having journeyed about two miles, I reached a cross-road, and saw approaching one of those great wagons familiarly known in that part of the country as "tin wagons." It was drawn by an exceedingly lean, gray horse; and a short, fat man, with a broad, florid face, beaming with good nature, was mounted upon a high seat, made of a bundle of sheepskins. He was squint eyed, spacious mouthed, and had a nose that was flat to the end, which turned up in a short pug. His hair was of a sandy color, and parted carelessly down the center; and his dress was of well-worn gray satinet, which sat loosely upon his rotund figure. His hat, of soft black felt, was drawn well down over his low forehead, and but for his beard, which was thick and matty, one might easily have mistaken him for a cross between a Dutch washerwoman and a pumpkin-bellied quaker.
His team moved along at a measured pace, as if keeping time to the song he was singing, with great flow of spirits, for his own entertainment. I waited until he came up, much amused at the manner in which he every few minutes cracked his big whip. "Stranger!" said he, in a shrill, squeaking voice, "which way are you journeying?-what can I do to serve you this morning?" He reined up his team, and dismounting in a trice, extended his hand with a heartiness I was surprised to find in a stranger. "Jedediah Smooth, the renowned fisherman, is my father, and I have set out in search of fame and fortune," was my reply. At this he set his small, but searching eyes upon me, and seemed confounded, the cause of which I was not a little anxious to learn.
"Son of the worthiest of fathers!" he exclaimed, in a voice of great earnestness, "my delight at meeting one whose fame as a politician has preceded him, knows no bounds." Again he shook my hand fervently, as a pleasing delirium seemed to have seized upon his senses. "Accidents are sometimes equal to conquests," he continued. "Know, then, that you confront Major Roger Sherman Potter, commonly called Major Roger Potter. Like a titillation of the fancy, I have been thrown up and down by the tide of political fortune and misfortune until I became sickened of it, and resolved to seek obscurity, and live like an honest man by the sale of tin, and such wares as the good people of this remote part of the world might have a demand for. You must not judge me by the calling necessity has now forced me to follow, for I hold it right, and in strict accordance with the nature of our institutions, that when fortune forsakes us, we stand not upon the order of a reputation, which at best is but a poor thing in time of need, but give ourselves manfully to any labor by which our hands may preserve the honesty of our heads. It is much better, I think, than following the fashion of our politicians, who reward the people who send them to Congress by neglecting their duty to the country, and studying those arts by which they can appropriate to themselves the choicest spoils."
The Major now led his team a little out of the road, hung his feed bag to his horse's head, and while the animal was eating, spread a sheepskin upon the ground, under some elder bushes, and invited me to sit down to a plentiful supply of crackers and cheese, to which he added a quart of cider drawn from a small keg he kept secreted under his box. He also discovered to me the fact, that in addition to every variety of tin ware, mop handles, washboards, crimping moulds, and wooden faucets, he kept a small supply of fourth proof brandy, which he sold to those who had a want in that line for winter strained sperm oil, a name convenient enough to suit all purposes. In truth, the good people of the neighboring villages had taken so strongly to the temperance cause, that no spiritous liquors could be got of anybody but the doctor, and then only on a certificate from the parson, who vouched for your good character, and set forth that to the best of his belief, it would be used only as a medicine. And the doctor, who had a scrupulous regard for all good and well regulated communities, took a joint interest with the parson, and so raised the price of this sort of medicine as to make the trade an extremely lucrative one. But as the rich were never known to be denied, and the poor had not money enough to enjoy so expensive a cure for their maladies, which were greatest in number, the popular enactment became not only a grievous, but a very oppressive monopoly. And this monopoly the major, who esteemed himself a great public benefactor, sought a cure for in selling for three shillings a pint, an article equal in quality to that for which the doctor and the parson demanded ten. But this, he said, very good naturedly, he was compelled to do on the sly, for though his customers were principally poor people, if it got noised abroad, nothing could save him from the fury of a mob of pious and very orderly people, who would get up town meetings and vote him down an intolerable nuisance. This done, and the market for his tin pints and washboards would be closed for ever.
Having refreshed ourselves with the crackers and cheese and cider, the Major very pleasantly commenced recounting a little affair of honor he had been called upon to adjust but a few minutes before, and as he was proud of his skill as a diplomatist, the recital afforded him an infinite amount of pleasure.
"Parsons and doctors," said he, taking a copious cup of cider, "no doubt imagine themselves (and they have an undisputed right so to do) to be the very embodiment of natural benevolence and inviolable fidelity. But there are things of an opposite nature, to which their hearts and inclinations are as susceptible as those of the tenderest virgins. I was pursuing my journey this morning, when 'old Battle,' my horse, who has smelled powder enough to make his nerves more steady, pricked up his ears at something he saw in the bushes by the roadside. Reining him up, I dismounted, and to my great surprise discovered two well-dressed men fast asleep, locked in each other's arms. 'Faith of my father!' says I, 'who's here?' A slightly guttural sound was followed by a hoarse voice answering, 'It's only me.' And then a lean figure, with two well-blacked eyes, and a face otherwise disfigured, disconnected itself from its fellow, rose to its haunches, and stared at me with wild dismay. A white neckcloth, somewhat besmeared with blood, denoted his profession. On coming to his senses he aroused his companion, and commenced charging him with being the cause of the sad plight he was in. Neither seemed to have a very distinct recollection of the event that had founed them in a condition so disgraceful to them as respectable citizens; and the other protested his innocence of any misdemeanor, but was equally at a loss how to account for the disfigured face of his companion, and was about charging the whole affair to a dispensation of Providence, that being the most convenient and fashionable method for disposing of such things. But the man of the disfigured face, who was no less a person than Parson Stebbins, (and his companion the doctor, of whom mention was made in the foregoing chapter,) clung tenaciously to what he was pleased to call his love of facts, and said he would come out with it all, that the truth of history might not be impeached.
"They had been spending the evening at your father's house, and were regaled with cider of such uncommon strength as to make a deep impression upon their sensibilities. The doctor declared they drank nothing stronger, notwithstanding the parson accused him of having a small flask in his pocket. It was late when they left the house; and as they had been warmly discussing whether it was right in the sight of God to hang a woman for killing her drunken husband, without coming to any decision, they agreed to change the subject to one of a theological character, it being absolutely necessary that they have something to debate on their way home. The doctor inquired of the parson, what he thought of the doctrine held by many popular divines, that God made Moses and Elijah visible to the Apostles on the occasion of the transfiguration. The parson, after pausing a few moments, and remarking that he had a curious feeling in his head, which seemed to sit unsafely upon his shoulders, replied that the question was of too abstruse a nature to be debated by any but members of his own profession, to which it of right belonged. If he were to speak his mind it would be to give doctors in general no very high reputation for either morals or religion. 'True history never gave them much mention; and though Aristotle had treated their vagaries with great condescension, Cicero never could be got to look with favor upon them. Yours is a mischievous profession, the members of which are always seeking the demolition of useful sciences.' This the parson said in so angry a tone that it excited the pugnacity of the doctor, who was scrupulous of his profession, and declared he would not stand by and hear it slandered.