The Landloper: The Romance of a Man on Foot — John Shaqi
The Landloper: The Romance of a Man on FootDay, Holman
General
The Landloper: The Romance of a Man on Foot
Day, Holman
Political corruption -- Fiction; Water-supply -- Fiction
“Perhaps he was a mite harsh, but there is another side of it. There
were only three of us left of the Friends' society to go to the old
meeting-house on First Day so that it might not be said that after one
hundred years we had allowed the society of the fathers to perish in
our town. Thee may have noted that my father and I still use the plain
language, keeping up the ways of the founders. My father sat at the head
of the meeting, my Uncle Joachim was next to him on the facing seat. I
am the only worshiper. I am not fitted to be a minister. My father, when
Joachim died, had no one with whom to exchange the hand-shake at the end
of the meeting.”
“And now he's losing his congregation?”
“Yes, my friend, and so my father blames me for going, just as he blamed
Uncle Joachim for dying. He has the meeting much at heart.”
“What will he do for a crowd after you go away?”
“He will continue to sit at the head of the meeting, sir.”
There was silence between them for some time. The blacksmith clanked on
his way sturdily.
“He will still sit at the head of the meeting! Only a little fire is
left there, sir, but he will not allow it to go out as long as he is
alive to blow the bellows of devotion.”
“Look here, Brother Chick,” demanded Farr. “I don't want to be prying or
impertinent, but what's your idea?”
“I'm not ashamed of anything I'm going to do. Even though it is a very
strange plan, as the world would look at it, I'm not ashamed of it. A
very few words will tell you: I'm going out among men and spread the
gospel of mercy and forbearance, teach the lessons of peace, urge men to
forgive instead of fight--showing them that courts of law are more often
the devil's playground than the abode of real justice. I have worked
hard, I have read many books, I have stored information in my mind, I
have laid up money enough. You behold my armor--I have wrought at it
patiently for a long time.”
“Expect to have 'em throw things at you?”
But the blacksmith, replying, gave no sign that he resented this brusque
humor.
“It is well known that it is hard to attract the attention of the world
from its own affairs. For instance, if I had stood in the yard to-day,
dressed as a plain man, thee would have passed on thy way--providing
father had been chopping up kindling-wood instead of a coffin. If I had
stopped thee and started to explain my views thee would have paid little
attention to me. Isn't that so?”
“It's so.”
“Well, then, thee have my theory and know my plan and have noted how it
has worked,” said Mr. Chick.
“I don't want to discourage you in a good thing, but how long do you
think a policeman would let you stand on a street corner?”
“I shall find places where I can deliver my message without offending.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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