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THE CANTERBURY PILGRIMS
The summer moon； which shines in so many a tale； was beaming over
a broad extent of uneven country。 Some of its brightest rays were
flung into a spring of water； where no traveller； toiling； as the
writer has； up the hilly road beside which it gushes； ever failed
to quench his thirst。 The work of neat hands and considerate art
was visible about this blessed fountain。 An open cistern； hewn
and hollowed out of solid stone； was placed above the waters；
which filled it to the brim； but by some invisible outlet were
conveyed away without dripping down its sides。 Though the basin
had not room for another drop； and the continual gush of water
made a tremor on the surface； there was a secret charm that
forbade it to overflow。 I remember； that when I had slaked my
summer thirst； and sat panting by the cistern； it was my fanciful
theory that Nature could not afford to lavish so pure a liquid；
as she does the waters of all meaner fountains。
While the moon was hanging almost perpendicularly over this spot；
two figures appeared on the summit of the hill； and came with
noiseless footsteps down towards the spring。 They were then in
the first freshness of youth； nor is there a wrinkle now on
either of their brows； and yet they wore a strange； old…fashioned
garb。 One； a young man with ruddy cheeks； walked beneath the
canopy of a broad…brimmed gray hat； he seemed to have inherited
his great…grandsire's square…skirted coat； and a waistcoat that
extended its immense flaps to his knees； his brown locks； also；
hung down behind； in a mode unknown to our times。 By his side was
a sweet young damsel； her fair features sheltered by a prim
little bonnet； within which appeared the vestal muslin of a cap；
her close； long…waisted gown； and indeed her whole attire； might
have been worn by some rustic beauty who had faded half a century
before。 But that there was something too warm and life…like in
them； I would here have compared this couple to the ghosts of two
young lovers who had died long since in the glow of passion； and
now were straying out of their graves； to renew the old vows； and
shadow forth the unforgotten kiss of their earthly lips； beside
the moonlit spring。
〃Thee and I will rest here a moment； Miriam；〃 said the young man；
as they drew near the stone cistern； 〃for there is no fear that
the elders know what we have done； and this may be the last time
we shall ever taste this water。〃
Thus speaking； with a little sadness in his face； which was also
visible in that of his companion； he made her sit down on a
stone； and was about to place himself very close to her side；
she； however； repelled him； though not unkindly。
〃Nay； Josiah；〃 said she； giving him a timid push with her maiden
hand； 〃thee must sit farther off； on that other stone； with the
spring between us。 What would the sisters say； if thee were to
sit so close to me？〃
〃But we are of the world's people now； Miriam；〃 answered Josiah。
The girl persisted in her prudery； nor did the youth； in fact；
seem altogether free from a similar sort of shyness； so they sat
apart from each other； gazing up the hill； where the moonlight
discovered the tops of a group of buildings。 While their
attention was thus occupied； a party of travellers； who had come
wearily up the long ascent； made a halt to refresh themselves at
the spring。 There were three men； a woman； and a little girl and
boy。 Their attire was mean； covered with the dust of the summer's
day； and damp with the night…dew； they all looked woebegone； as
if the cares and sorrows of the world had made their steps
heavier as they climbed the hill； even the two little children
appeared older in evil days than the young man and maiden who had
first approached the spring。
〃Good evening to you； young folks；〃 was the salutation of the
travellers； and 〃Good evening； friends；〃 replied the youth and
damsel。
〃Is that white building the Shaker meeting…house？〃 asked one of
the strangers。 〃And are those the red roofs of the Shaker
village？〃
〃Friend； it is the Shaker village；〃 answered Josiah； after some
hesitation。
The travellers； who； from the first； had looked suspiciously at
the garb of these young people； now taxed them with an intention
which all the circumstances； indeed； rendered too obvious to be
mistaken。
〃It is true； friends；〃 replied the young man； summoning up his
courage。 〃Miriam and I have a gift to love each other； and we are
going among the world's people； to live after their fashion。 And
ye know that we do not transgress the law of the land； and
neither ye； nor the elders themselves； have a right to hinder
us。〃
〃Yet you think it expedient to depart without leave…taking；〃
remarked one of the travellers。
〃Yea； ye…a；〃 said Josiah； reluctantly； 〃because father Job is a
very awful man to speak with； and being aged himself； he has but
little charity for what he calls the iniquities of the flesh。〃
〃Well；〃 said the stranger； 〃we will neither use force to bring
you back to the village； nor will we betray you to the elders。
But sit you here awhile； and when you have heard what we shall
tell you of the world which we have left； and into which you are
going； perhaps you will turn back with us of your own accord。
What say you？〃 added he； turning to his companions。 〃We have
travelled thus far without becoming known to each other。 Shall we
tell our stories； here by this pleasant spring； for our own
pastime； and the benefit of these misguided young lovers？〃
In accordance with this proposal； the whole party stationed
themselves round the stone cistern； the two children； being very
weary； fell asleep upon the damp earth； and the pretty Shaker
girl； whose feelings were those of a nun or a Turkish lady； crept
as close as possible to the female traveller； and as far as she
well could from the unknown men。 The same person who had hitherto
been the chief spokesman now stood up； waving his hat in his
hand； and suffered the moonlight to fall full upon his front。
〃In me；〃 said he； with a certain majesty of utterance；〃in me；
you behold a poet。〃
Though a lithographic print of this gentleman is extant； it may
be well to notice that he was now nearly forty； a thin and
stooping figure； in a black coat； out at elbows； notwithstanding
the ill condition of his attire； there were about him several
tokens of a peculiar sort of foppery； unworthy of a mature man；
particularly in the arrangement of his hair which was so disposed
as to give all possible loftiness and breadth to his forehead。
However； he had an intelligent eye； and； on the whole； a marked
countenance。
〃A poet！〃 repeated the young Shaker； a little puzzled how to
understand such a designation； seldom heard in the utilitarian
community where he had spent his life。 〃Oh； ay； Miriam； he means
a varse…maker； thee must know。〃
This remark jarred upon the susceptible nerves of the poet； nor
could he help wondering what strange fatality had put into this
young man's mouth an epithet； which ill…natured people had
affirmed to be more proper to his merit than the one assumed by
himself。
〃True； I am a verse…maker；〃 he resumed； 〃but my verse is no more
than the material body into which I breathe the celestial soul of
thought。 Alas！ how many a pang has it cost me； this same
insensibility to the ethereal essence of poetry； with which you
have here tortured me again； at the moment when I am to
relinquish my profession forever！ O Fate！ why hast thou warred
with Nature； turning all her higher and more perfect gifts to the
ruin of me； their possessor？ What is the voice of song； when the
world lacks the ear of taste？ How can I rejoice in my strength
and delicacy of feeling； when they have but made great sorrows
out of little ones？ Have I dreaded scorn like death； and yearned
for fame as others pant for vital air； only to find myself in a
middle state between obscurity and infamy？ But I have my revenge！
I could have given existence to a thousand bright creations。 I
crush them into my heart； and there let them putrefy！ I shake off
the dust of my feet against my countrymen！ But posterity； tracing
my footsteps up this weary hill； will cry shame upon the unworthy
age that drove one of the fathers of American song to end his
days in a Shaker village！ 〃
During this harangue； the speaker gesticulated with great energy；
and； as poetry is the natural language of passion； there appeared
reason to apprehend his final explosion into an ode extempore。
The reader must understand that； for all these bitter words； he
was a kind； gentle； harmless； poor fellow enough； whom Nature；
tossing her ingredients together without looking at her recipe；
had sent into the world with too much of one sort of brain； and
hardly any of another。
〃Friend；〃 said the young Shaker； in some perplexity； 〃thee
seemest to have met with