A SHOE coming loose from the fore foot of the thill-horse, at the
beginning of the ascent of mount Taurira, the postilion dismounted,
twisted the shoe off, and put it in his pocket; as the ascent was of five
or six miles, and that horse our main dependence, I made a point of
having the shoe fastened on again, as well as we could; but the postilion
had thrown away the nails, and the hammer in the chaise box being of no
great use without them, I submitted to go on.
He had not mounted half a mile higher, when, coming to a flinty piece of
road, the poor devil lost a second shoe, and from off his other fore
foot. I then got out of the chaise in good earnest; and seeing a house
about a quarter of a mile to the left hand, with a great deal to do I
prevailed upon the postilion to turn up to it. The look of the house,
and of every thing about it, as we drew nearer, soon reconciled me to the
disaster.—It was a little farm-house, surrounded with about twenty acres
of vineyard, about as much corn;—and close to the house, on one side, was
a _potagerie_ of an acre and a half, full of everything which could make
plenty in a French peasant’s house;—and, on the other side, was a little
wood, which furnished wherewithal to dress it. It was about eight in the
evening when I got to the house—so I left the postilion to manage his
point as he could;—and, for mine, I walked directly into the house.
The family consisted of an old grey-headed man and his wife, with five or
six sons and sons-in-law, and their several wives, and a joyous genealogy
out of them.
They were all sitting down together to their lentil-soup; a large wheaten
loaf was in the middle of the table; and a flagon of wine at each end of
it promised joy through the stages of the repast:—’twas a feast of love.
The old man rose up to meet me, and with a respectful cordiality would
have me sit down at the table; my heart was set down the moment I enter’d
the room; so I sat down at once like a son of the family; and to invest
myself in the character as speedily as I could, I instantly borrowed the
old man’s knife, and taking up the loaf, cut myself a hearty luncheon;
and, as I did it, I saw a testimony in every eye, not only of an honest
welcome, but of a welcome mix’d with thanks that I had not seem’d to
doubt it.
Was it this? or tell me, Nature, what else it was that made this morsel
so sweet,—and to what magic I owe it, that the draught I took of their
flagon was so delicious with it, that they remain upon my palate to this
hour?
If the supper was to my taste,—the grace which followed it was much more
so.