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a long…stepping trotter in a sulky； man in a brown linen coat and wide…awake hat；dissolute； horsey…looking man。 They turn up； of course。 Ah； there is an establishment he knows well： a sorrel horse and an old chaise。 The sorrel horse scents the water afar off； and begins to turn up long before he reaches the trough； thrusting out his nose in anticipation of the coot sensation。 No check to let down； he plunges his nose in nearly to his eyes。 in his haste to get at it。 Two maiden ladies unmistakably such； though they appear neither 〃anxious nor aimless 〃… …within the scoop…top smile benevolently on the sorrel back。 It is the deacon's horse； a meeting…going nag； with a sedate； leisurely jog as he goes； and these are two of the 〃salt of the earth；〃the brevet rank of the women who stand and wait；going down to the village store to dicker。 There come two men in a hurry； horse driven up smartly and pulled up short； but as it is rising ground； and the horse does not easily reach the water with the wagon pulling back； the nervous man in the buggy hitches forward on his seat； as if that would carry the wagon a little ahead！ Next； lumber…wagon with load of boards； horse wants to turn up； and driver switches him and cries 〃G'lang；〃 and the horse reluctantly goes by； turning his head wistfully towards the flowing spout。 Ah； here comes an equipage strange to these parts； and John stands up to look； an elegant carriage and two horses； trunks strapped on behind； gentleman and boy on front seat and two ladies on back seat；city people。 The gentleman descends； unchecks the horses； wipes his brow； takes a drink at the spout and looks around； evidently remarking upon the lovely view； as he swings his handkerchief in an explanatory manner。 Judicious travelers。 John would like to know who they are。 Perhaps they are from Boston； whence come all the wonderfully painted peddlers' wagons drawn by six stalwart horses； which the driver； using no rein； controls with his long whip and cheery voice。 If so； great is the condescension of Boston； and John follows them with an undefined longing as they drive away toward the mountains of Zoar。 Here is a footman； dusty and tired； who comes with lagging steps。 He stops； removes his hat； as he should to such a tree； puts his mouth to the spout； and takes a long pull at the lively water。 And then he goes on； perhaps to Zoar； perhaps to a worse place。
So they come and go all the summer afternoon； but the great event of the day is the passing down the valley of the majestic stage…coach； the vast yellow…bodied； rattling vehicle。 John can hear a mile off the shaking of chains； traces； and whiffle…trees； and the creaking of its leathern braces； as the great bulk swings along piled high with trunks。 It represents to John； somehow； authority； government； the right of way； the driver is an autocrat； everybody must make way for the stage…coach。 It almost satisfies the imagination； this royal vehicle； one can go in it to the confines of the world；to Boston and to Albany。
There were other influences that I daresay contributed to the boy's education。 I think his imagination was stimulated by a band of gypsies who used to come every summer and pitch a tent on a little roadside patch of green turf by the river…bank not far from his house。 It was shaded by elms and butternut…trees； and a long spit of sand and pebbles ran out from it into the brawling stream。 Probably they were not a very good kind of gypsy； although the story was that the men drank and beat the women。 John didn't know much about drinking； his experience of it was confined to sweet cider； yet he had already set himself up as a reformer； and joined the Cold Water Band。 The object of this Band was to walk in a procession under a banner that declared；
〃So here we pledge perpetual hate To all that can intoxicate； 〃
and wear a badge with this legend； and above it the device of a well… curb with a long sweep。 It kept John and all the little boys and girls from being drunkards till they were ten or eleven years of age； though perhaps a few of them died meantime from eating loaf…cake and pie and drinking ice…cold water at the celebrations of the Band。
The gypsy camp had a strange fascination for John； mingled of curiosity and fear。 Nothing more alien could come into the New England life than this tatterdemalion band。 It was hardly credible that here were actually people who lived out…doors； who slept in their covered wagon or under their tent； and cooked in the open air； it was a visible romance transferred from foreign lands and the remote times of the story…books； and John took these city thieves； who were on their annual foray into the country； trading and stealing horses and robbing hen…roosts and cornfields； for the mysterious race who for thousands of years have done these same things in all lands； by right of their pure blood and ancient lineage。 John was afraid to approach the camp when any of the scowling and villainous men were lounging about； pipes in mouth； but he took more courage when only women and children were visible。 The swarthy； black…haired women in dirty calico frocks were anything but attractive； but they spoke softly to the boy； and told his fortune； and wheedled him into bringing them any amount of cucumbers and green corn in the course of the season。 In front of the tent were planted in the ground three poles that met together at the top； whence depended a kettle。 This was the kitchen； and it was sufficient。 The fuel for the fire was the driftwood of the stream。 John noted that it did not require to be sawed into stove…lengths； and； in short； that the 〃chores〃 about this establishment were reduced to the minimum。 And an older person than John might envy the free life of these wanderers； who paid neither rent nor taxes； and yet enjoyed all the delights of nature。 It seemed to the boy that affairs would go more smoothly in the world if everybody would live in this simple manner。 Nor did he then know； or ever after find out； why it is that the world permits only wicked people to be Bohemians。
XIX
A CONTRAST TO THE NEW ENGLAND BOY
One evening at vespers in Genoa； attracted by a burst of music from the swinging curtain of the doorway； I entered a little church much frequented by the common people。 An unexpected and exceedingly pretty sight rewarded me。
It was All Souls' Day。 In Italy almost every day is set apart for some festival； or belongs to some saint or another； and I suppose that when leap year brings around the extra day； there is a saint ready to claim the 29th of February。 Whatever the day was to the elders； the evening was devoted to the children。 The first thing I noticed was； that the quaint old church was lighted up with innumerable wax tapers；an uncommon sight； for the darkness of a Catholic church in the evening is usually relieved only by a candle here and there； and by a blazing pyramid of them on the high altar。 The use of gas is held to be a vulgar thing all over Europe； and especially unfit for a church or an aristocratic palace。
Then I saw that each taper belonged to a little boy or girl； and the groups of children were scattered all about the