Papers from LilliputPriestley, J. B. (John Boynton)
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Papers from Lilliput
Priestley, J. B. (John Boynton)
English essays -- 20th century
These bold experimentalists, the crack-brained, are now so few and so
precious, that I travel with one eye open for them; for a man is as
well, if not better, occupied collecting eccentric essays in life, as he
is casting about for ancient coins or earthenware. Remote towns or
villages make the most promising hunting-grounds, and only a short time
ago, my search was well rewarded in a certain small market town. I had
been in the place several days, and had come to know most of its
prominent figures well by sight, when one fellow, whom I was always
seeing, here, there, and everywhere, began to excite my curiosity. He
was an oldish man, with a close-shaven, tanned face, and always dressed
in gaiters and what seemed to be a long smock, with a curiously-shaped
cap, of the same material as his smock, pressed down upon his head.
These and other particulars I noted with interest, but what intrigued
me most was a long pole, roughly shaped like a shepherd’s crook, which
he always carried in his hand, and which seemed to be some implement of
his trade. But what his trade was, I could not guess; I never saw him
employed in any way, never caught him piloting beasts towards the market
or making any kind of use of the mysterious pole. Yet whenever I ran
across him, which I did frequently, he always seemed to be fully
occupied, neither rushing heedlessly nor yet loitering, but resolutely
pressing forward to some important piece of business--a sober man of
affairs. Even in a little market town, there are many ways of earning
bread and beer that fall outside the scope of a stranger’s knowledge,
tiny trades that are commonplaces in one shire and unknown in the next,
and I might easily have contented myself with assuming that my man was
thus engaged. But the archaic costume and the quaintly fashioned pole,
now so familiar, were too provocative, and led me to question my
landlady, whose talk was fluent and full of good matter, though rather
obscure. I had scarcely begun my description of the man before she had
snatched the subject from me and panted forth the whole tale.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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