The　minister　pushed　the　little　pile　of　coins　toward　him。
  〃Take　it；　Mr。　Nash；〃　said　he。
  At　that　Mr。　Nash　rose　hastily。
  〃I　will　not；〃　he　said　gruffly。
  He　paused；　and　looked　at　the　minister　with　a　strange　expression　in　his　small　round　eyeswas　it　anger；　or　was　it　fear；　or　could　it　have　been　admiration？
  〃If　you　want　to　waste　your　time　on　fiddlin'　farmers'　meetingsa　man　that　knows　as　little　of　farmin'　as　you　dowhy　go　ahead　for　all　o'　me。　But　don't　count　me　in。〃
  He　turned；　reached　for　his　hat；　and　then　went　out　of　the　door　into　the　darkness。
  For　a　moment　we　all　sat　perfectly　silent；　then　the　minister　rose；　and　said　solemnly：
  〃Martha；　let's　sing　something。〃
  Martha　crossed　the　room　to　the　cottage　organ　and　seated　herself　on　the　stool。
  〃What　shall　we　sing？〃　said　she。
  〃Something　with　fight　in　it；　Martha；〃　he　responded；　〃something　with　plenty　of　fight　in　it。〃
  So　we　sang　〃Onward；　Christian　Soldier；　Marching　as　to　War；〃　and　followed　up　with：
  Awake；　my　soul；　stretch　every　nerve　And　press　with　rigour　on；　A　heavenly　race　demands　thy　zeal　And　an　immortal　crown。
  When　we　had　finished；　and　as　Martha　rose　from　her　seat；　the　minister　impulsively　put　his　hands　on　her　shoulders；　and　said：
  〃Martha；　this　is　the　greatest　night　of　my　life。〃
  He　took　a　turn　up　and　down　the　room；　and　then　with　an　exultant　boyish　laugh　said：
  〃We'll　go　to　town　to…morrow　and　pick　out　that　sewing…machine！〃
  I　remained　with　them　that　night　and　part　of　the　following　day；　taking　a　hand　with　them　in　the　garden；　but　of　the　events　of　that　day　I　shall　speak　in　another　chapter。
  CHAPTER　V。　　I　PLAY　THE　PART　OF　A　SPECTACLE　PEDDLER
  Yesterday　was　exactly　the　sort　of　a　day　I　love　besta　spicy；　unexpected；　amusing　daycrowned　with　a　droll　adventure。
  I　cannot　account　for　it；　but　it　seems　to　me　I　take　the　road　each　morning　with　a　livelier　mind　and　keener　curiosity。　If　you　were　to　watch　me　narrowly　these　days　you　would　see　I　am　slowly　shedding　my　years。　I　suspect　that　some　one　of　the　clear　hill　streams　from　which　I　have　been　drinking　（lying　prone　on　my　face）　was　in　reality　the　fountain　of　eternal　youth。　I　shall　not　go　back　to　see。
  It　seems　to　me；　when　I　feel　like　this；　that　in　every　least　thing　upon　the　roadside；　or　upon　the　hill；　lurks　the　stuff　of　adventure。　What　a　world　it　is！　A　mile　south　of　here　I　shall　find　all　that　Stanley　found　in　the　jungles　of　Africa；　a　mile　north　I　am　Peary　at　the　Pole！
  You　there；　brown…clad　farmer　on　the　tall　seat　of　your　wagon；　driving　townward　with　a　red　heifer　for　sale；　I　can　show　you　that　life　your　lifeis　not　all　a　gray　smudge；　as　you　think　it　is；　but　crammed；　packed；　loaded　with　miraculous　things。　I　can　show　you　wonders　past　belief　in　your　own　soul。　I　can　easily　convince　you　that　you　are　in　reality　a　poet；　a　hero；　a　true　lover；　a　saint。
  It　is　because　we　are　not　humble　enough　in　the　presence　of　the　divine　daily　fact　that　adventure　knocks　so　rarely　at　our　door。　A　thousand　times　I　have　had　to　learn　this　truth　（what　lesson　so　hard　to　learn　as　the　lesson　o　humility！）　and　I　suppose　I　shall　have　to　learn　it　a　thousand　times　more。　This　very　day；　straining　my　eyes　to　see　the　distant　wonders　of　the　mountains；　I　nearly　missed　a　miracle　by　the　roadside。
  Soon　after　leaving　the　minister　and　his　familyI　worked　with　them　in　their　garden　with　great　delight　most　of　the　forenoonI　came；　within　a　mileto　the　wide　white　turnpikethe　Great　Road。
  Now；　I　usually　prefer　the　little　roads；　the　little；　unexpected；　curving；　leisurely　country　roads。　The　sharp　hills；　the　pleasant　deep　valleys；　the　bridges　not　too　well　kept；　the　verdure　deep　grown　along　old　fences；　the　houses　opening　hospitably　at　the　very　roadside；　all　these　things　I　love。　They　come　to　me　with　the　same　sort　of　charm　and　flavour；　only　vastly　magnified；　which　I　find　often　in　the　essays　of　the　older　writersthose　leisurely　old　fellows　who　took　time　to　write；　REALLY　write。　The　important　thing　to　me　about　a　road；　as　about　lifeand　literature；　is　not　that　it　goes　anywhere；　but　that　it　is　livable　while　it　goes。　For　if　I　were　to　arriveand　who　knows　that　I　ever　shall　arrive？I　think　I　should　be　no　happier　than　I　am　here。
  Thus　I　have　commonly　avoided　the　Great　White　Roadthe　broad；　smooth　turnpikerock…bottomed　and　rolled　by　a　Statewithout　so　much　as　a　loitering　curve　to　whet　one's　curiosity；　nor　a　thank…　you…ma'am　to　laugh　over；　nor　a　sinful　hill　to　test　your　endurancenot　so　much　as　a　dreamy　valley！　It　pursues　its　hard；　unshaded；　practical　way　directly　from　some　particular　place　to　some　other　particular　place　and　from　time　to　time　a　motor…car　shoots　in　at　one　end　of　it　and　out　at　the　other；　leaving　its　dust　to　settle　upon　quiet　travellers　like　me。
  Thus　to…day　when　I　came　to　the　turnpike　I　was　at　first　for　making　straight　across　it　and　taking　to　the　hills　beyond；　but　at　that　very　moment　a　motor…car　whirled　past　me　as　I　stood　there　and　a　girl　with　a　merry　face　waved　her　hand　at　me。　I　lifted　my　hat　in　return；and　as　I　watched　them　out　of　sight　I　felt　a　curious　new　sense　of　warmth　and　friendlinessthere　in　the　Great　Road。
  〃These　are　just　people；　too；〃　I　said　aloud　〃and　maybe　they　really　like　it！〃
  And　with　that　I　began　laughing　at　myself；　and　at　the　whole；　big；　amazing；　interesting　world。　Here　was　I　pitying　them　for　their　benighted　state；　and　there　were　they；　no　doubt；　pitying　me　for　mine！
  And　with　that　pleasant　and　satisfactory　thought　in　my　mind　and　a　song　in　my　throat　I　swung　into　the　Great　Road。
  〃It　doesn't　matter　in　the　least；〃　said　I　to　myself；　〃whether　a　man　takes　hold　of　life　by　the　great　road　or　the　little　ones　so　long　as　he　takes　hold。〃
  And　oh；　it　was　a　wonderful　day！　A　day　with　movement　in　it；　a　day　that　flowed！　In　every　field　the　farmers　were　at　work；　the　cattle　fed　widely　in　the　meadows；　and　the　Great　Road　itself　was　alive　with　a　hundred　varied　sorts　of　activity。　Light　winds　stirred　the　tree…tops　and　rippled　in　the　new　grass；　and　from　the　thickets　I　heard　the　blackbirds　crying。　Everything　animate　and　inanimate；　that　morning；　seemed　to　have　its　own　clear　voice　and　to　cry　out　at　me　for　my　interest；　or　curiosity；　or　sympathy。　Under　such　circumstances　it　could　not　have　been　longnor　was　it　longbefore　I　came　plump　upon　the　first　of　a　series　of　odd　adventures。
  A　great　many　people；　I　know；　abominate　the　roadside　sign。　It　seems　to　them　a　desecration　of　nature；　the　intrusion　of　rude　commercialism　upon　the　perfection　of　natural　beauty。　But　not　I。　I　have　no　such　feeling。　Oh；　the　signs　in　themselves　are　often　rude　and　unbeautiful；　and　I　never　wished　my　own　barn　or　fences　to　sing　the　praises　of　swamp　root　or　sarsaparillaand　yet　there　is　something　wonderfully　human　about　these　painted　and　pasted　vociferations　of　the　roadside　signs；　and　I　don't　know　why　they　are　less　〃natural〃　in　their　way　than　a　house　or　barn　or　a　planted　field　of　corn。　They　also　tell　us　about　life。　How　eagerly　they　cry　out　at　us；　〃Buy　me；　buy　me！〃　What　enthusiasm　they　have　in　their　own　concerns；　what　boundless　faith　in　themselves！　How　they　speak　of　the　enormous　energy；　activity；　resourcefulness　of　human　kind！
  Indeed；　I　like　all　kinds　of　signs。　The　autocratic　warnings　of　the　road；　the　musts　and　the　must…nots　of　traffic；　I　observe　in　passing；　and　I　often　stand　long　at　the　crossings　and　look　up　at　the　finger…posts；　and　consider　my　limitless　wealth　as　a　traveller。　By　this　road　I　may；　at　my　own　pleasure；　reach　the　Great　City；　by　thatwho　knows？the　far　wonders　of　Cathay。　And　I　respond　always　to　the　appeal　which　the　devoted　pilgrim　paints　on　the　rocks　at　the　roadside：　〃Repent　ye；　for　the　kingdom　of　God　is　at　hand；〃　and　though　I　am　certain　that　the　kingdom　of　God　is　already　here；　I　stop　always　and　repentjust　a　littleknowing　that　there　is　always　room　for　it。　At　the　entrance　of　the　little　towns；　also；　or　in　the　squares　of　the　villages；　I　stop　often　to　read　the　signs　of　taxes　assessed；　or　of　political　meetings；　I　see　the　evidences　of　homes　broken　up　in　the　notices　of　auction　sales；　and　of　families　bereaved　in　the　dry　and　formal　publications　of　the　probate　court。　I　pause；　too；　before　the　signs　of　amusements　flaming　red　and　yellow　on　the　barns　（boys；　the　circus　is　coming　to　town！）；　and　I　pause　also；　but　no　longer；　to　read　the　silent　signs　carved　in　stone　in　the　little　cemeteries　as　I　pass。　Symbols；　you　say？　Why；　they're　the　very　stuff　of　life。　If　you　cannot　see　life　here　in　the　wide　road；　you　will　never　see　it　at　all。
  Well；　I　saw　a　sign　yesterday　at　the　roadside　that　I　never　saw　anywhere　before。　It　was　not　a　large　signindeed　rather　inconspicuousconsisting　of　a　single　word　rather　crudely　painted　in　black　（as　by　an　amateur）　upon　a　white　board。　It　was　nailed　to　a　tree　where　those　in　swift　passing　cars　could　not　avoid　seeing　it：
  ＇　REST　＇
  I　cannot　describe　the　odd　sense　of　enlivenment；　of　pleasure　I　had　when　I　saw　this　new　sign。
  〃Rest！〃　I　exclaimed　aloud。　〃Indeed　I　will；〃　and　I　sat　down　on　a　stone　not　far　away。
  〃Rest！〃
  What　a　sign　for　this　very　spot！　Here　in　the　midst　of　the　haste　and　hurry　of　the　Great　Road　a　quiet　voice　was　saying；〃Rest。〃　Some　one　with　imagination；　I　thought；　evidently　put　that　up；　some　quietist　offering　this　mild　protest　against　the　breathless　progress　of　the　age。　How　often　I　have　felt　the　same　way　myselfas　though　I　were　being　swept　onward　through　life　faster　than　I　c