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e； and that the carriage was from Baltimore。 Here was a chance for a romance。 Slavery； beauty； wealth； haughtiness； especially on the part of the slender boy on the front seat；here was an opening into a vast realm。 The high…stepping horses and the shining harness were enough to excite John's admiration； but these were nothing to the little girl。 His eyes had never before fallen upon that kind of girl； he had hardly imagined that such a lovely creature could exist。 Was it the soft and dainty toilet； was it the brown curls； or the large laughing eyes； or the delicate； finely cut features； or the charming little figure of this fairy…like person？ Was this expression on her mobile face merely that of amusement at seeing a country…boy？ Then John hated her。 On the contrary； did she see in him what John felt himself to be？ Then he would go the world over to serve her。 In a moment he was self…conscious。 His trousers seemed to creep higher up his legs； and he could feel his very ankles blush。 He hoped that she had not seen the other side of him； for； in fact； the patches were not of the exact shade of the rest of the cloth。 The vision flashed by him in a moment； but it left him with a resentful feeling。 Perhaps that proud little girl would be sorry some day； when he had become a general； or written a book； or kept a store； to see him go away and marry another。 He almost made up his cruel mind on the instant that he would never marry her； however bad she might feel。 And yet he could n't get her out of his mind for days and days； and when her image was present； even Cynthia in the singers' seat on Sunday looked a little cheap and common。 Poor Cynthia！ Long before John became a general or had his revenge on the Baltimore girl； she married a farmer and was the mother of children； red…headed； and when John saw her years after； she looked tired and discouraged； as one who has carried into womanhood none of the romance of her youth。
Fishing and dreaming； I think； were the best amusements John had。 The middle pier of the long covered bridge over the river stood upon a great rock； and this rock （which was known as the swimming…rock； whence the boys on summer evenings dove into the deep pool by its side） was a favorite spot with John when he could get an hour or two from the everlasting 〃chores。〃 Making his way out to it over the rocks at low water with his fish…pole； there he was content to sit and observe the world； and there he saw a great deal of life。 He always expected to catch the legendary trout which weighed two pounds and was believed to inhabit that pool。 He always did catch horned dace and shiners； which he despised； and sometimes he snared a monstrous sucker a foot and a half long。 But in the summer the sucker is a flabby fish； and John was not thanked for bringing him home。 He liked； however； to lie with his face close to the water and watch the long fishes panting in the clear depths； and occasionally he would drop a pebble near one to see how gracefully he would scud away with one wave of the tail into deeper water。 Nothing fears the little brown boy。 The yellow…bird slants his wings； almost touches the deep water before him； and then escapes away under the bridge to the east with a glint of sunshine on his back； the fish…hawk comes down with a swoop； dips one wing； and； his prey having darted under a stone； is away again over the still hill； high soaring on even…poised pinions； keeping an eye perhaps upon the great eagle which is sweeping the sky in widening circles。
But there is other life。 A wagon rumbles over the bridge； and the farmer and his wife； jogging along； do not know that they have startled a lazy boy into a momentary fancy that a thunder…shower is coming up。 John can see as he lies there on a still summer day； with the fishes and the birds for company； the road that comes down the left bank of the river；a hot； sandy； well…traveled road； hidden from view here and there by trees and bushes。 The chief point of interest； however； is an enormous sycamore…tree by the roadside and in front of John's house。 The house is more than a century old； and its timbers were hewed and squared by Captain Moses Rice （who lies in his grave on the hillside above it）； in the presence of the Red Man who killed him with arrow and tomahawk some time after his house was set in order。 The gigantic tree； struck with a sort of leprosy； like all its species； appears much older； and of course has its tradition。 They say that it grew from a green stake which the first land… surveyor planted there for one of his points of sight。 John was reminded of it years after when he sat under the shade of the decrepit lime…tree in Freiburg and was told that it was originally a twig which the breathless and bloody messenger carried in his hand when he dropped exhausted in the square with the word 〃Victory！〃 on his lips； announcing thus the result of the glorious battle of Morat； where the Swiss in 1476 defeated Charles the Bold。 Under the broad but scanty shade of the great button…ball tree （as it was called） stood an old watering…trough； with its half…decayed penstock and well…worn spout pouring forever cold； sparkling water into the overflowing trough。 It is fed by a spring near by； and the water is sweeter and colder than any in the known world； unless it be the well Zem…zem； as generations of people and horses which have drunk of it would testify； if they could come back。 And if they could file along this road again； what a procession there would be riding down the valley！antiquated vehicles； rusty wagons adorned with the invariable buffalo…robe even in the hottest days； lean and long… favored horses； frisky colts； drawing； generation after generation； the sober and pious saints； that passed this way to meeting and to mill。
What a refreshment is that water…spout！ All day long there are pilgrims to it； and John likes nothing better than to watch them。 Here comes a gray horse drawing a buggy with two men；cattle
buyers； probably。 Out jumps a man； down goes the check…rein。 What a good draught the nag takes！ Here comes 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