A Yankee in Canada, with Anti-slavery and reform papers.Thoreau, Henry David
History
A Yankee in Canada, with Anti-slavery and reform papers.
Thoreau, Henry David
Brown, John, 1800-1859; Québec (Province) -- Description and travel; Slavery -- United States
He occupied one window, and I the other; and I saw, that, if one
stayed there long, his principal business would be to look out
the window. I had soon read all the tracts that were left there,
and examined where former prisoners had broken out, and where a
grate had been sawed off, and heard the history of the various
occupants of that room; for I found that even here there was a
history and a gossip which never circulated beyond the walls of
the jail. Probably this is the only house in the town where
verses are composed, which are afterward printed in a circular
form, but not published. I was shown quite a long list of verses
which were composed by some young men who had been detected in
an attempt to escape, who avenged themselves by singing them.
I pumped my fellow-prisoner as dry as I could, for fear I should
never see him again; but at length he showed me which was my
bed, and left me to blow out the lamp.
It was like travelling into a far country, such as I had never
expected to behold, to lie there for one night. It seemed to me
that I never had heard the town-clock strike before, nor the
evening sounds of the village; for we slept with the windows
open, which were inside the grating. It was to see my native
village in the light of the Middle Ages, and our Concord was
turned into a Rhine stream, and visions of knights and castles
passed before me. They were the voices of old burghers that I
heard in the streets. I was an involuntary spectator and auditor
of whatever was done and said in the kitchen of the adjacent
village-inn,—a wholly new and rare experience to me. It was a
closer view of my native town. I was fairly inside of it. I
never had seen its institutions before. This is one of its
peculiar institutions; for it is a shire town. I began to
comprehend what its inhabitants were about.
In the morning, our breakfasts were put through the hole in the
door, in small oblong-square tin pans, made to fit, and holding
a pint of chocolate, with brown bread, and an iron spoon. When
they called for the vessels again, I was green enough to return
what bread I had left; but my comrade seized it, and said that I
should lay that up for lunch or dinner. Soon after he was let
out to work at haying in a neighboring field, whither he went
every day, and would not be back till noon; so he bade me
good-day, saying that he doubted if he should see me again.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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