the friendly road(友好的路)-第35章
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of that day； the renewal of acquaintance with the fields； the cattle； the
fowls； the bees； of my long talks with Harriet and Dick Sheridan； who had
cared for my work while I was away； of the wonderful visit of the Scotch
Preacher； of Horace's shrewd and whimsical comments upon the general
absurdity of the head of the Grayson familyoh； of a thousand thingsand
how when I went into my study and took up the nearest book in my
favourite caseit chanced to be 〃The Bible in Spain〃it opened of itself at
one of my favourite sages； the one beginning：
〃Mistos amande； I am content〃
So it's all over！ It has been a great experience； and it seems to me
now that I have a firmer grip on life； and a firmer trust in that Power
which orders the ages。 In a book I read not long ago； called 〃A Modern
Utopia；〃 the writer provides in his imaginary perfect state of society a
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THE FRIENDLY ROAD
class of leaders known as Samurai。 And； from time to time； it is the
custom of these Samurai to cut themselves loose from the crowding world
of men； and with packs on their backs go away alone to far places in the
deserts or on Arctic ice caps。 I am convinced that every man needs some
such change as this； an opportunity to think things out； to get a new grip
on life； and a new hold on God。 But not for me the Arctic ice cap or the
desert！ I choose the Friendly Roadand all the mon people who travel in it
or live along itI choose even the busy city at the end of it。
I assure you； friend； that it is a wonderful thing for a man to cast
himself freely for a time upon the world； not knowing where his next meal
is coming from； nor where he is going to sleep for the night。 It is a
surprising readjuster of values。 I paid my way； I think； throughout my
pilgrimage； but I discovered that stamped metal is far from being the
world's only true coin。 As a matter of fact； there are many things that men
prize more highlybecause they are rarer and more precious。
My friend； if you should chance yourself some day to follow the
Friendly Road； you may catch a fleeting glimpse of a man in a rusty hat；
carrying a gray bag； and sometimes humming a little song under his breath
for the joy of being there。 And it may actually happen； if you stop him；
that he will take a tin whistle from his bag and play for you； 〃Money
Musk；〃 or 〃Old Dan Tucker；〃 or he may produce a battered old volume of
Montaigne from which he will read you a passage。 If such an adventure
should befall you； know that you have met
Your friend；
David Grayson。
P。 S。 Harriet bemoans most of all the unsolved mystery of the sign man。
But it doesn't bother me in the least。 I'm glad now I never found him。 The
poet sings his song and goes his way。 If we sought him out how horribly
disappointed we might be！ We might find him shaving； or eating sausage；
or drinking a bottle of beer。 We might find him shaggy and unkempt where
we imagined him beautiful； weak where we thought him strong； dull
where we thought him brilliant。 Take then the vintage of his heart and let
him go。 As for me； I'm glad some mystery is left in this world。 A thousand
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signs on my roadways are still as unexplainable； as mysterious； and as
beguiling as this。 And I can close my narrative with no better motto for
tired spirits than that of the country roadside：
＇ REST ＇
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