Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1860-06-30
DAVID SWAN.
BY NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE.

We can be but partially acquainted even with
the events which actually influence our destiny.
There are innumerable other events, if such
they may be called, which come close upon us,
vet pass away without actual results, nor even
betray their near approach, by the reflection of
any light or shadow across our minds. Could
we know all the vicissitudes of our fortunes,
life would be too full of hope and fear, exulta-
ton or disappointment, to afford us single
hour of true serenity. This idea may be illus
trated by page from the secret history of Da-
vid Swan.
find him at the age of twenty, on the high road
from his native place TO the city Of Boston,
where his uncle, small dealer in the grocery
line was to take him behind the counter. Be
il enough to say, that he was native of New
Hampshire, born of respectable parents, and
had received an ordinary school education, with
a classical finish by year at Gilmanton Acad-
emy After journeying on foot from sunrise
till nearly noon of a summers day, his weari-
ness and the increasing heat determined him to
sit in the first convenient shade, and await the
coming up of the stage coach. AS if planted
on purpose for him, there soon appeared lit
tie tuft of naples, with delightful recess in
the midst, and such fresh bubbling spring
that it seemed never to have sparkled for any
wayfarer but David Swan. Virgin or not, he
kissed it with his thirsty lips, and then flung
himself along the brink, pillowing his head up
on some shirts and pair of pantaloons, tied
up in striped cotton handkerchief. The sun
beams could not reach him; the dust did not
vet rise from the road after the heavy rain of
yesterday; and his grassy lair suited the young
man better than bed of down. The spring
murmured drowsiy beside him; the branches
waved dreamily overhead, across the blue sky
and deep sleep, perchance hiding dreams with
in its depths, fell upon David Swan, but we are
to relate events which he did not dream of.
While he lay sound asleep, in the shade, 9TH
er people were wide awake, and passed to and
fro, afoot on horseback, in all sorts of vehicles,
along the sunny road by his bed-chamber.-
Some looked neither to the right hand nor the
left, and knew not that he was there; some
merely glanced that way, without admitting the
slumberer among their busy thoughts, some
laughed to see how soundly he slept, and.seve-
raj whose hearts were trimming full of scorn,
elected their venomous superiuity on David
Swan. A middle-aged widow, when nobody
else was near, thrust her head little way into
the recess, and vowed that the young fellow
looked charming in his sleep. A temperance
lecturer saw him, and wrought poor David into
the texture OF his evenings discourse as an aw-
full instance of dead drunkenness by the road
side. But censure, praise, merriment, scorn,
and indifference, were all one, or rather all
nothing, to David Swan.
He had slept only few moments, when a
brown carriage, drawn by handsome pair Of
horses, bowled easily along, and was brought
to a stand-still nearly in front of David's rest
ing-place. A linch-pin had fallen out and per-
mitted one of the wheels to fly of. The dam
age was slight, and occasioned merely mo-
mentary alarm to an elderly merchant and his
,u;fa ,hA ratnrpinu m ROstOn in tho oar
riage. While the coachman and a servant were
replacing the wheel, the lady and gentleman
sheltered themselves beneath the maple trees
and there espied the bubbling fountain, and
| David Swan asleep beside it. Impressed with
the awe which the humblest sleeper usually
sheds around him, the merchant trod as lightly
as the gout would allow; and his spouse took
good heed not to rustic her silk gown, lest Da
yid should start up all of sudden.
"How soundly he sleeps" whispered the ole
gentleman. "From what depth he draws thai
easy breath. Such sleep as that, brought oil
without an opiate, would be worth more to mt
than half my income; for it would support
health and an untroubled mind"
Sand youth besides" said the lady. "Heal
thy and quiet age does not sleep thus. Oul
slumber is no more like this, than our wakeful
| ness"
The longer they looked, the more did this ell
derly couple feel interested in the unknown
yout4, to whom the way-sde and the mapl,
shade were as a secret chamber, with the ricl
gloom of damask curtains brooding over him
| Perceiving that stray sunbeam glimmeret
down upon his face, the lady contrived to twis
branch aside, so as to intercept it. And hav
ing done this little act of kindness, she begal
| to feel like mother to him.
| "Providence seems to have laid him here,
| - Ln.k k,,al IL L