“You needn’t think of that; I can find my way about town alone,” said Clinton.
“You can tell about that better to-night,” replied Whistler.
“Well, I won’t crow till I get out of the woods, at any rate,” said Clinton. “But I’m going with you as far as your schoolhouse,—are you ready?”
“Yes,—come,” replied Whistler.
They walked to the schoolhouse, accompanied by Bouncer, and remained together till the bell summoned Whistler to his seat, and then Clinton started upon his first exploration, alone. Turning his face towards the business section of the city, which was in a northerly direction from his uncle’s house, and occasionally whistling to Bouncer, who was still looking wistfully towards the schoolhouse, he walked leisurely along, with the air of one who is determined to see everything that is worth seeing. Bouncer did not think it worth while to favor him with his company; but Clinton found plenty of other dogs in his wanderings, of all sorts and sizes,—quite as many, in fact, as he wished to see. One of these dogs, which he encountered in a narrow alley, amused him very much. He was harnessed into a little cart, and trotted along quite briskly with his load. Two boys accompanied him, who appeared to be Irish. One of them was quite large, and wore a coat which seemed intended for his father. He had a little whip, with which he enforced the orders he was constantly shouting to the dog. The other boy was much smaller, and ran behind, pushing the cart. The load consisted of several bundles, tied up in handkerchiefs. They contained dirty clothes, which the boys were collecting for their mother, who was a washerwoman.
The next object that attracted Clinton’s notice was a group of busts and images, arranged upon a board, which a young man carried upon the top of his head. Clinton thought it rather strange that he should carry so heavy a burden in such a way; but the images were of plaster, and hollow, and were much lighter than they appeared. The man was an Italian; and whenever he met a gentleman, or saw a lady at a window, he would call out, “E-me-ges!—buy any e-me-ges?” in his most persuasive tone. He was a mild-eyed, dark-complexioned man, not very neat in his personal appearance, and his clothing was a good deal be-patched, as you will see by the engraving.
In the course of the morning an incident happened to Clinton which made him smile many a time during the day, as it came to mind. In passing a shop, in front of which several birds were hung out in cages, he noticed that the door of one cage was open, and that its tenant was on the outside, apparently meditating a flight. The bird was nearly the size of a pigeon, but he did not know what it was. Stepping into the shop, he said:
“One of your birds has got his cage door open, sir, and is hopping all around outside.”