Year: 1869




: Mr.. Stoves Portrait Of Sam Lawson
Z From Mrs. BeeeherStowe's New Novel ''Olt
E Town FoIks.''l


Every New England village, if you
i only think of it, must have its do
! nothing as regularly as has its school
house or meeting house. Nature is
! always wide awake in the matter OF
; compensation. Work, thrift, and in
| dustry are such an incessant steam
! power in Yankee life, that society
would burn itself out with intense
! friction were there not interpOsed here
, and there the lubrieating power of a


decided dO-nothing "a man who
. won't be hurried, and won't work,


and will take his ease in his own way,


in spite of the whole protest of his


neighborhoOd TO the contrary. And


there is on the face of the whole earth


no do nothing whose softness, idle


ness, general inaptitude to labor, and


everlasting, universal shiftlessness can


compare with that of this worthy, as
found in brisk Yankee village.


Saw Lawson filled this post with


ample honor in Oldtown. He was a
!


boys" in the village, because from


the special nature of his position, he


never had anything more pressing to


do than Groom and gossip with u.s.


He was ready to spend hours in tink-
ering boys jack-knife, or mending
| his skate, or start at the smallest no.
! tice to watch at a wOOdchuck's hole,
or give incessant service in tending q


dogs sprained paw. He was always


on hand to go fishing with us on
/ Saturday afternoons; and / have
known him to sit hour after hour on


the bank, surrounded by a troop of


boys, batting our hooks and taking
off our fish. He was a sofhearted old


body, and the wrigglings and contor-
tions of our prey used TO disturb his


repose so that it was a regular part of


his work to kill the fish by breaking


their necks when he took them from


the hook. "Why, lordy massy, boys"


he would say, ''I can't bear to see no


kind o. critter in torment These
'ere pout amt to blame for bein' fish,


and We ought to put 'em out of their
misery. Fish hes their rights as well
as any on u.s." Nobody but sam !
would have thought of poking thro'
the high grass and clover on our back |
lot to look me up, as lay sobbing 1
under the old apple tree. the most in
significant little atom of misery that /
ever bewailed the inevitable.


Sam was of respectable family, and I
not destitute of education. He was /
an expert in at least five or six differ
ent kinds of fhandicraft, in all of which
he had been pronounced blythe know
ing ones to be capable workman, ''if
only he would stick to it.n He had a
blacksmith's shop, where, when the
fit was on, he would shoe horse bet
ter than any man in the county,
No one could supply missing screw,
or apply a timely brace, with more
adroitness. He could mend cracked
china so as to be almost as good as
new (; he could use carpenters tools
as well as born carpenter, and would
doctor a rheumatic door or a shaky
window better than half the profess
sional artisans in wood. No man
could put a refractory clock to rights
with more ingenuity than Sam,-that
is, if you would give him his time to
be about it.


shall never forget the wrath and
dismay which he reused in my Aunt
Lois's mind by the leisurely way in
which, after having taken our own
venerable kitchen clock to pieces, and
strewn the fragments all over the
kitchen, he would roost over it in end
less incubation, telling stories, enter
ing into long-winded theological dis
smoking pipes, and giving
histories of all the other clocks in
with occasional memories
of those in Meedmore, the North Par
ish, and POdunk, as placidly indiffer-
ent to all her volleys of sarcasm and
her stiDging expostulations
and philippies, as the sailing old moon
is to the frisky, animated barking of
some puppy dog of earth.


Besides this, Sam was endowed ,
with no end of idle accomplishments. ,
His Incidence was precisely of turn .
that enjoyed the excitement of an oc-
odd bit of work with which
he had clearly no concern, and which ,
had no sort of tendency toward his ,
or that of his family. Some ,
thing so far out of the line of practi- !
cal utility as to be in a manner an
artistic labor would awaken all the ,
energies of his soul. His shop was a !
perfect infrmary for decayed articles !
Of virtue from all the houses for miles
Cracked china, lame tea
pots, broken shoe-buckles, rickety I
tongues, and descreipt fire-irons, all
stood in melancholy proximity, await :
ing Sans happy hours of inspiration; !
and he was always happy to sit down :
and have long strictly confidential ,
concerning any of these Z
with the owner, especially if Hepsy !
were gone out washing, or on any ,
other work which kept her at a safe I
distance.


Sam could shave and cut hair as
neatly as any barber, and was always :
in demand up and down the country !
to render these offices to the sick. He
was ready TO go for miles to watch :
with invalids and a very acceptable !
he made, beguiling the night
hours with endless stories and legends. /
he was also an expert in psalmody,
having in his youth been the pride of
the village singing-school. In those
days he could perform reputabIy on
the bass viol in the choir Of Sunday, ,
with a dOlefulness and solemnity of
demeanOr in the highest degree edify-
lng,-though he was equally ready of /
. MOCh-CNCblnS III sNldJluS Ol a uIlSh I
little fiddle, if any of the thoughtless !
ones wanted performer at husking
or a quilting frolic. Sans obliging- /
ness was many-sided, and he. was
equally prepared at any moment to
raise funeral-psalm or whistle the ,
time of a double-shuffie.


But the more particular delight of
Sans heart was in funerals. He
would walk miles on hearing the news ,
Of dangerous illness, and sit roost- ,
ing on the fence of the premises, de-
lighted to gossip over the particulars, ,
but ready to come down at any mo- !
ment to do anyof the odd turns which :
in family makes necessary; :
and when the last earthly scene was /
over, Sam was more than ready to !
render those final offices from which /
the more enervousand fastidious shrink j
but in which he took almost a profess i
sional pride.


Wanted---MOre Men. !


The Social Science philosophers of I
n.-s4 I.