In the colonial days, as we have seen, the traveling shoemaker was abroad in the land. He was accustomed to travel through his section of the country with a kit of tools and bits of leather on his back. He was familiarly called "Crispin," from the patron saint of his craft, and ofttimes proved a "character" much appreciated by the farmers and their families. Sometimes these traveling mechanics were quiet, silent men, doing their work and going on intent only on obtaining their living; but sometimes they were jolly, social people, facetious, even witty. "Good mornin', neighbor Heyday," said a Crispin to a farmer. "I hope you and the madam and the childers are all very well, the day." "Eh, purty fair. The woman is ailin' some. She wants buildin' up, buildin' up." "Well, well," said Crispin, "the Lord has laid His hand of blessing heavily upon ye, so He has that." "What is the meanin' of that speech?" said the farmer. "Eh, sorry is it for the joker when he has to explain his own joke. Hasn't He filled your quiver full of childers? and isn't that the greatest blessing the Almighty can bestow on man that is a sinner?" "But I have only six childers." "Yes, yes, I see, but the eldest counts less years than the clock tell hours; and I wish ye had a dozen instead of half as many. Are ye givin' 'em all good healthy understandin'?" "Well, them that's old enough goes to school, if that's what you mean?" "Well, there it is again. A man has to interpret his own wit. I mean, have they all good soles on which to keep their bodies healthy?" "The good Lord gives 'em the souls and their parents are responsible only for the bodies." "Blunderin' again it is that I am. I mean are ye'r shoes all in a good, healthy condition, so that the brats will not take cold and be carried off by a stout, lung fever, that the doctors call newmony?" "Well, they've worn no shoes all summer except what the Lord gave 'em, and that's the skin of their feet." "Well, now, it's a full twelvemonth since I was around here afore, and do ye want me to make up their winter shoes for 'em?" So the conversation went on until they had struck a bargain, that the Crispin should board with the farmer and make up the shoes for himself and the children, the farmer paying for the leather and so much by the week for the man's work. The shoemaker then made a strong pair of cowhide boots for the father of the family; a pair of kid shoes for the good wife; two pairs of calfskin shoes for the two girls; two pairs of ingrain boots for the older boys; and two pairs of kid shoes for the younger boys. The silver jingled in the pocket of the Crispin when his task was completed, and he traveled onward to the next farm. He had appropriated to himself a certain section of villages and country, and he would treat the matter as a serious misdemeanor should any other Crispin trespass upon his territory.