THE VILLAGE. 
183 
inhabitants in the outskirts, where long gaps in the line 
began to occur, and the traveller could get over walls 
or turn aside into cow paths, and so escape, paid a very 
slight ground or window tax. Signs were hung out 
on all sides to allure him; some to catph him by the 
appetite, as the tavern and victualling cellar; some by 
the fancy, as the dry goods store and the jeweller’s; and 
others by the hair or the feet or the skirts, as the bar¬ 
ber, the shoemaker, or the tailor. Besides, there was a 
still more terrible standing invitation to call at every 
one of these houses, and company expected about these 
times. For the most part I escaped wonderfully from 
these dangers, either by proceeding at once boldly and 
without deliberation to the goal, as is recommended to 
those who run the gantlet, or by keeping my thoughts 
on high things, like Orpheus, who, “ loudly singing the 
praises of the gods to his lyre, drowned the voices of 
the Sirens, and kept out of danger.” Sometimes I 
bolted suddenly, and nobody could tell my whereabouts, 
for I did'not stand much about gracefulness, and never 
hesitated at a gap in a fence. I was even accustomed 
to make an irruption into some houses, where I was well 
entertained, and after learning the kernels and very last 
sieve-ful of news, what had subsided, the prospects of 
war and peace, and whether the world was likely to hold 
together much longer, I was let out through the rear 
avenues, and so escaped to the woods again. 
It was very pleasant, when I staid late in town, to 
launch myself into the night, especially if it was dark 
and tempestuous, and set sail from some bright village 
parlor or lecture room, with a bag of rye or Indian meal 
upon my shoulder, for my snug harbor in the woods, 
having made all tight without and withdrawn under 
