This eBook was produced by David Widger  widgercecometnet                        TWICE TOLD TALES                     THE TOLLGATHERERS DAY                   A SKETCH OF TRANSITORY LIFE                      By Nathaniel HawthorneMethinks for a person whose instinct bids him  rather to pore over thecurrent of life than to  plunge into its tumultuous waves noundesirable retreat were a tollhouse beside some thronged thoroughfareof the land  In youth perhaps it is good for  the observer to runabout the earth to leave the track  of his footsteps far and wideto mingle himself with  the action of numberless vicissitudesandfinally in  some calm solitude to feed a musing spirit on all that liehas seen and felt  But there are natures too indolent  or toosensitive to endure the dust the sunshine or the  rain the turmoil ofmoral and physical elements to which  all the wayfarers of the worldexpose themselves  For  such a mail how pleasant a miracle could lifebe made  to roll its variegated length by the threshold of his ownhermitage and the great globe as it were perform its  revolutions andshift its thousand scenes before his eyes  without whirling him onward inits course  If any mortal be favored with a lot analogous to this it isthe  tollgatherer  So at least have I often fancied while  loungingon a bench at the door of a small square edifice which stands betweenshore and shore in the midst of a long bridge  Beneath the timbers ebbsand flows an arm of the sea while above like the lifeblood through agreat artery the travel of the north and east is continually throbbingSitting on the aforesaid bench I amuse myself with a conceptionillustrated by numerous pencilsketches in the air of the tollgatherers dayIn the morningdim gray dewy summers morn the distant roll ofponderous wheels begins to mingle with my old friends slumbers creakingmore and more harshly through the midst of his dream and graduallyreplacing it with realities  Hardly conscious of the change from sleepto wakefulness he finds himself partly clad and throwing wide the tollgates for the passage of a fragrant load of hay  The timbers groanbeneath the slowrevolving wheels one sturdy yeoman stalks beside theoxen and peering from the summit of the hay by the glimmer of thehalfextinguished lantern over the tollhouse is seen the drowsy visageof his comrade who has enjoyed a nap some ten miles long  The toll ispaidcreak creak again go the wheels and the huge haymow vanishesinto the morning mist  As yet nature is but half awake and familiarobjects appear visionary  But yonder dashing from the shore with arattling thunder of the wheels and a confused clatter of hoofs comes thenevertiring mail which has hurried onward at the same headlongrestless rate all through the quiet night  The bridge resounds in onecontinued peal as the coach rolls on without a pause merely affordingthe tollgatherer a glimpse at the sleepy passengers who now bestirtheir torpid limbs and snuff a cordial in the briny air  The mornbreathes upon them and blushes and they forget how wearily the darknesstoiled away  And behold now the fervid day in his bright chariotglittering aslant over the waves nor scorning to throw a tribute of hisgolden beams on the tollgatherers little hermitage  The old man lookseastward and for he is a moralizer frames a simile of the stage coachand the sun While the world is rousing itself we may glance slightly atthe scene of our sketch  It sits above the bosom of the broad flood aspot not of earth but in the midst of waters which rush with amurmuring sound among the massive beams beneath  Over the door is aweatherbeaten board inscribed with the rates of toll in letters sonearly effaced that the gilding of the sunshine can hardly make themlegible  Beneath the window is a wooden bench on which a longsuccession of weary wayfarers have reposed themselves  Peeping withindoors we perceive the whitewashed walls bedecked with sundrylithographic prints and advertisements of various import and the immenseshowbill of a wandering caravan  And there sits our good old tollgatherer glorified by the early sunbeams  He is a man as his aspectmay announce of quiet soul and thoughtful shrewd yet simple mindwho of the wisdom which the passing world scatters along the waysidehas gathered a reasonable storeNow the sun smiles upon the landscape and earth smiles back again uponthe sky  Frequent now are the travellers  The tollgathererspractised ear can distinguish the weight of every vehicle the number ofits wheels and how many horses beat the resounding timbers with theiriron tramp  Here in a substantial family chaise setting forth betimesto take advantage of the dewy road come a gentleman and his wife withtheir rosycheeked little girl sitting gladsomely between them  Thebottom of the chaise is heaped with multifarious bandboxes and carpetbags and beneath the axle swings a leathern trunk dusty with yesterdaysjourney  Next appears a fourwheeled carryall peopled with a roundhalfdozen of pretty girls all drawn by a single horse and driven by asingle gentleman  Luckless wight doomed through a whole summer dayto be the butt of mirth and mischief among the frolicsome maidens  Boltupright in a sulky rides a thin sourvisaged man who as he pays histoll hands the tollgatherer a printed card to stick upon the wall  Thevinegarfaced traveller proves to be a manufacturer of pickles  Nowpaces slowly from timber to timber a horseman clad in black with