the friendly road(友好的路)-第15节
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leisurely country roads。 The sharp hills； the pleasant deep valleys； the
bridges not too well kept； the verdure deep grown along old fences； the
houses opening hospitably at the very roadside； all these things I love。
They come to me with the same sort of charm and flavour； only vastly
magnified； which I find often in the essays of the older writersthose
leisurely old fellows who took time to write； REALLY write。 The
important thing to me about a road； as about lifeand literature； is not that
it goes anywhere； but that it is livable while it goes。 For if I were to arrive…
…and who knows that I ever shall arrive？I think I should be no happier
than I am here。
Thus I have commonly avoided the Great White Roadthe broad；
smooth turnpikerock…bottomed and rolled by a Statewithout so much as
a loitering curve to whet one's curiosity； nor a thank… you…ma'am to laugh
over； nor a sinful hill to test your endurancenot so much as a dreamy
valley！ It pursues its hard； unshaded； practical way directly from some
particular place to some other particular place and from time to time a
motor…car shoots in at one end of it and out at the other； leaving its dust to
settle upon quiet travellers like me。
Thus to…day when I came to the turnpike I was at first for making
straight across it and taking to the hills beyond； but at that very moment a
motor…car whirled past me as I stood there and a girl with a merry face
waved her hand at me。 I lifted my hat in return；and as I watched them
out of sight I felt a curious new sense of warmth and friendlinessthere in
the Great Road。
〃These are just people； too；〃 I said aloud 〃and maybe they really like
it！〃
And with that I began laughing at myself； and at the whole； big；
amazing； interesting world。 Here was I pitying them for their benighted
state； and there were they； no doubt； pitying me for mine！
And with that pleasant and satisfactory thought in my mind and a song
in my throat I swung into the Great Road。
〃It doesn't matter in the least；〃 said I to myself； 〃whether a man takes
hold of life by the great road or the little ones so long as he takes hold。〃
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And oh； it was a wonderful day！ A day with movement in it； a day that
flowed！ In every field the farmers were at work； the cattle fed widely in
the meadows； and the Great Road itself was alive with a hundred varied
sorts of activity。 Light winds stirred the tree…tops and rippled in the new
grass； and from the thickets I heard the blackbirds crying。 Everything
animate and inanimate； that morning； seemed to have its own clear voice
and to cry out at me for my interest； or curiosity； or sympathy。 Under such
circumstances it could not have been longnor was it longbefore I came
plump upon the first of a series of odd adventures。
A great many people； I know； abominate the roadside sign。 It seems
to them a desecration of nature； the intrusion of rude commercialism upon
the perfection of natural beauty。 But not I。 I have no such feeling。 Oh； the
signs in themselves are often rude and unbeautiful； and I never wished my
own barn or fences to sing the praises of swamp root or sarsaparillaand
yet there is something wonderfully human about these painted and pasted
vociferations of the roadside signs； and I don't know why they are less
〃natural〃 in their way than a house or barn or a planted field of corn。 They
also tell us about life。 How eagerly they cry out at us； 〃Buy me； buy me！〃
What enthusiasm they have in their own concerns； what boundless faith in
themselves！ How they speak of the enormous energy； activity；
resourcefulness of human kind！
Indeed； I like all kinds of signs。 The autocratic warnings of the road；
the musts and the must…nots of traffic； I observe in passing； and I often
stand long at the crossings and look up at the finger…posts； and consider
my limitless wealth as a traveller。 By this road I may； at my own pleasure；
reach the Great City； by thatwho knows？the far wonders of Cathay。
And I respond always to the appeal which the devoted pilgrim paints on
the rocks at the roadside： 〃Repent ye； for the kingdom of God is at hand；〃
and though I am certain that the kingdom of God is already here； I stop
always and repentjust a littleknowing that there is always room for it。
At the entrance of the little towns； also； or in the squares of the villages； I
stop often to read the signs of taxes assessed； or of political meetings； I see
the evidences of homes broken up in the notices of auction sales； and of
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families bereaved in the dry and formal publications of the probate court。 I
pause； too； before the signs of amusements flaming red and yellow on the
barns （boys； the circus is coming to town！）； and I pause also； but no longer；
to read the silent signs carved in stone in the little cemeteries as I pass。
Symbols； you say？ Why； they're the very stuff of life。 If you cannot see life
here in the wide road； you will never see it at all。
Well； I saw a sign yesterday at the roadside that I never saw anywhere
before。 It was not a large signindeed rather inconspicuousconsisting of
a single word rather crudely painted in black （as by an amateur） upon a
white board。 It was nailed to a tree where those in swift passing cars could
not avoid seeing it：
＇ REST ＇
I cannot describe the odd sense of enlivenment； of pleasure I had when
I saw this new sign。
〃Rest！〃 I exclaimed aloud。 〃Indeed I will；〃 and I sat down on a stone
not far away。
〃Rest！〃
What a sign for this very spot！ Here in the midst of the haste and hurry
of the Great Road a quiet voice was saying；〃Rest。〃 Some one with
imagination； I thought； evidently put that up； some quietist offering this
mild protest against the breathless progress of the age。 How often I have
felt the same way myselfas though I were being swept onward through
life faster than I could well enjoy it。 For nature passes the dishes far more
rapidly than we can help ourselves。
Or perhaps； thought I； eagerly speculating； this may be only some
cunning advertiser with rest for sale （in these days even rest has its price）；
thus piquing the curiosity of the traveller for the disclosure which he will
make a mile or so farther on。 Or else some humourist wasting his wit upon
the Fraternity of the Road； too willing （like me； perhaps） to accept his
ironical advice。 But it would be well worth while should I find him； to see
him chuckle behind his hand。
So I sat there very much interested； for a long time； even framing a
rather amusing picture in my own mind of the sort of person who painted
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these signs； deciding finally that he must be a zealot rather than a trader or
humourist。 （Confidentially； I could not make a picture of him in which he
was not endowed with plentiful long hair）。 As I walked onward again； I
decided that in any guise I should like to see him； and I enjoyed thinking
what I should say if I met him。 A mile farther up the road I saw another
sign exactly like the first。
〃Here he is again；〃 I said exultantly； and that sign being somewhat
nearer the ground I was able to examine it carefully front and back； but it
bore no evidence of its origin。
In the next few miles I saw two other signs with nothing on them but
the word 〃Rest。〃
Now this excellent admonitionlike much of the excellent
admonitions in this world affected me perversely： it made me more
restless than ever。 I felt that I could not rest properly until I found out who
wanted me to rest； and why。 It opened indeed a limitless vista for new
adventure。
Presently； away ahead of me in the road； I saw a man standing near a
one…horse wagon。 He seemed
