the complete writings-4-第33章

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ached；　there　was　a　choice　of　routes。　　We　might　ford　the　Toe　at　that　point；　where　the　river　was　wide；　but　shallow；　and　the　crossing　safe；　and　climb　over　the　mountain　by　a　rough　but　sightly　road；　or　descend　the　stream　by　a　better　road　and　ford　the　river　at　a　place　rather　dangerous　to　those　unfamiliar　with　it。　　The　danger　attracted　us；　but　we　promptly　chose　the　hill　road　on　account　of　the　views；　for　we　were　weary　of　the　limited　valley　prospects。

The　Toe　River；　even　here；　where　it　bears　westward；　is　a　very　respectable　stream　in　size；　and　not　to　be　trifled　with　after　a　shower。　　It　gradually　turns　northward；　and；　joining　the　Nollechucky；　becomes　part　of　the　Tennessee　system。　　We　crossed　it　by　a　long；　diagonal　ford；　slipping　and　sliding　about　on　the　round　stones；　and　began　the　ascent　of　a　steep　hill。　　The　sun　beat　down　unmercifully；　the　way　was　stony；　and　the　horses　did　not　relish　the　weary　climbing。　The　Professor；　who　led　the　way；　not　for　the　sake　of　leadership；　but　to　be　the　discoverer　of　laden　blackberry　bushes；　which　began　to　offer　occasional　refreshment；　discouraged　by　the　inhospitable　road　and　perhaps　oppressed　by　the　moral　backwardness　of　things　in　general；　cried　out：

　　　　〃Tired　with　all　these；　for　restful　death　I　cry；　　　　　　As；　to　behold　desert　a　beggar　born；　　　　　　And　needy　nothing　trimm'd　in　jollity；　　　　　　And　purest　faith　unhappily　foresworn；　　　　　　And　gilded　honor　shamefully　misplaced；　　　　　　And　maiden　virtue　rudely　strumpeted；　　　　　　And　right　perfection　wrongfully　disgraced；　　　　　　And　strength　by　limping　sway　disabled；　　　　　　And　art　made　tongue…tied　by　authority；　　　　　　And　folly　（doctor…like）　controlling　skill；　　　　　　And　simple　truth　miscall'd　simplicity；　　　　　　And　captive　good　attending　captain　ill：　　　　　　Tired　with　all　these；　from　these　would　I　be　gone；　　　　　　Save　that；　to　die；　I　leave　my　love　alone。〃

In　the　midst　of　a　lively　discussion　of　this　pessimistic　view　of　the　inequalities　of　life；　in　which　desert　and　capacity　are　so　often　put　at　disadvantage　by　birth　in　beggarly　conditions；　and　brazen　assumption　raises　the　dust　from　its　chariot　wheels　for　modest　merit　to　plod　along　in；　the　Professor　swung　himself　off　his　horse　to　attack　a　blackberry　bush；　and　the　Friend；　representing　simple　truth；　and　desirous　of　getting　a　wider　prospect；　urged　his　horse　up　the　hill。　At　the　top　he　encountered　a　stranger；　on　a　sorrel　horse；　with　whom　he　entered　into　conversation　and　extracted　all　the　discouragement　the　man　had　as　to　the　road　to　Burnsville。

Nevertheless；　the　view　opened　finely　and　extensively。　　There　are　few　exhilarations　comparable　to　that　of　riding　or　walking　along　a　high　ridge；　and　the　spirits　of　the　traveler　rose　many　degrees　above　the　point　of　restful　death；　for　which　the　Professor　was　crying　when　he　encountered　the　blackberry　bushes。　　Luckily　the　Friend　soon　fell　in　with　a　like　temptation；　and　dismounted。　　He　discovered　something　that　spoiled　his　appetite　for　berries。　　His　coat；　strapped　on　behind　the　saddle；　had　worked　loose；　the　pocket　was　open；　and　the　pocket…book　was　gone。　　This　was　serious　business。　　For　while　the　Professor　was　the　cashier；　and　traveled　like　a　Rothschild；　with　large　drafts；　the　Friend　represented　the　sub…treasury。　　That　very　morning；　in　response　to　inquiry　as　to　the　sinews　of　travel；　the　Friend　had　displayed；　without　counting；　a　roll　of　bills。　　These　bills　had　now　disappeared；　and　when　the　Friend　turned　back　to　communicate　his　loss；　in　the　character　of　needy　nothing　not　trimm'd　in　jollity；　he　had　a　sympathetic　listener　to　the　tale　of　woe。

Going　back　on　such　a　journey　is　the　woefulest　experience；　but　retrace　our　steps　we　must。　　Perhaps　the　pocket…book　lay　in　the　road　not　half　a　mile　back。　　But　not　in　half　a　mile；　or　a　mile；　was　it　found。　Probably；　then；　the　man　on　the　sorrel　horse　had　picked　it　up。　　But　who　was　the　man　on　the　sorrel　horse；　and　where　had　he　gone？　　Probably　the　coat　worked　loose　in　crossing　Toe　River　and　the　pocket…book　had　gone　down…stream。　　The　number　of　probabilities　was　infinite；　and　each　more　plausible　than　the　others　as　it　occurred　to　us。　　We　inquired　at　every　house　we　had　passed　on　the　way；　we　questioned　every　one　we　met。　At　length　it　began　to　seem　improbable　that　any　one　would　remember　if　he　had　picked　up　a　pocketbook　that　morning。　　This　is　just　the　sort　of　thing　that　slips　an　untrained　memory。

At　a　post　office　or　doctor's　shop；　or　inn　for　drovers；　it　might　be　either　or　neither；　where　several　horses　were　tied　to　the　fence；；　and　a　group　of　men　were　tilted　back　in　cane　chairs　on　the　veranda；　we　unfolded　our　misfortune　and　made　particular　inquiries　for　a　man　on　a　sorrel　horse。　　Yes；　such　a　man；　David　Thomas　by　name；　had　just　ridden　towards　Bakersville。　　If　he　had　found　the　pocket…book；　we　would　recover　it。　　He　was　an　honest　man。　　It　might；　however；　fall　into　hands　that　would　freeze　to　it。

Upon　consultation；　it　was　the　general　verdict　that　there　were　men　in　the　county　who　would　keep　it　if　they　had　picked　it　up。　　But　the　assembly　manifested　the　liveliest　interest　in　the　incident。　　One　suggested　Toe　River。　　Another　thought　it　risky　to　drop　a　purse　on　any　road。　　But　there　was　a　chorus　of　desire　expressed　that　we　should　find　it；　and　in　this　anxiety　was　exhibited　a　decided　sensitiveness　about　the　honor　of　Mitchell　County。　　It　seemed　too　bad　that　a　stranger　should　go　away　with　the　impression　that　it　was　not　safe　to　leave　money　anywhere　in　it。　　We　felt　very　much　obliged　for　this　genuine　sympathy；　and　we　told　them　that　if　a　pocket…book　were　lost　in　this　way　on　a　Connecticut　road；　there　would　be　felt　no　neighborhood　responsibility　for　it；　and　that　nobody　would　take　any　interest　in　the　incident　except　the　man　who　lost；　and　the　man　who　found。

By　the　time　the　travelers　pulled　up　at　a　store　in　Bakersville　they　had　lost　all　expectation　of　recovering　the　missing　article；　and　were　discussing　the　investment　of　more　money　in　an　advertisement　in　the　weekly　newspaper　of　the　capital。　　The　Professor；　whose　reform　sentiments　agreed　with　those　of　the　newspaper；　advised　it。　　There　was　a　group　of　idlers；　mica　acquaintances　of　the　morning；　and　philosophers　in　front　of　the　store；　and　the　Friend　opened　the　colloquy　by　asking　if　a　man　named　David　Thomas　had　been　seen　in　town。　He　was　in　town；　had　ridden　in　within　an　hour；　and　his　brother；　who　was　in　the　group；　would　go　in　search　of　him。　　The　information　was　then　given　of　the　loss；　and　that　the　rider　had　met　David　Thomas　just　before　it　was　discovered；　on　the　mountain　beyond　the　Toe。　　The　news　made　a　sensation；　and　by　the　time　David　Thomas　appeared　a　crowd　of　a　hundred　had　drawn　around　the　horsemen　eager　for　further　developments。　Mr。　Thomas　was　the　least　excited　of　the　group　as　he　took　his　position　on　the　sidewalk；　conscious　of　the　dignity　of　the　occasion　and　that　he　was　about　to　begin　a　duel　in　which　both　reputation　and　profit　were　concerned。　　He　recollected　meeting　the　travelers　in　the　morning。

The　Friend　said；　〃I　discovered　that　I　had　lost　my　purse　just　after　meeting　you；　it　may　have　been　dropped　in　Toe　River；　but　I　was　told　back　here　that　if　David　Thomas　had　picked　it　up；　it　was　as　safe　as　if　it　were　in　the　bank。〃

〃What　sort　of　a　pocket…book　was　it？〃　　asked　Mr。　Thomas。

〃It　was　of　crocodile　skin；　or　what　is　sold　for　that；　very　likely　it　is　an　imitation；　and　about　so　large　indicating　the　size。〃

〃What　had　it　in　it？〃

〃Various　things。　　Some　specimens　of　mica；　some　bank　checks；　some　money。〃

〃Anything　else？〃

〃Yes；　a　photograph。　　And；　oh；　something　that　I　presume　is　not　in　another　pocket…book　in　North　Carolina；in　an　envelope；　a　lock　of　the　hair　of　George　Washington；　the　Father　of　his　Country。〃　　Sensation　mixed　with　incredulity。　　Washington's　hair　did　seem　such　an　odd　part　of　an　outfit　for　a　journey　of　this　kind。

〃How　much　money　was　in　it？〃

〃That　I　cannot　say；　exactly。　　I　happen　to　remember　four　twenty…dollar　United　States　notes；　and　a　roll　of　small　bills；　perhaps　something　over　a　hundred　dollars。〃

〃Is　that　the　pocket…book？〃　　asked　David　Thomas；　slowly　pulling　the　loved　and　lost　out　of　his　trousers　pocket。

〃It　is。〃

〃You'd　be　willing　to　take　your　oath　on　it？〃

〃I　should　be　delighted　to。〃

〃Well；　I　guess　there　ain't　so　much　money　in　it。　　You　can　count　it　＇handing　it　over＇；　there　hain't　been　nothing　taken　out。　　I　can't　read；　but　my