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.
When I came out of prison- for some one interfered, and paid that
tax- I did not perceive that great changes had taken place on the
common, such as he observed who went in a youth and emerged a
tottering and gray-headed man; and yet a change had to my eyes come
over the scene- the town, and State, and country- greater than any
that mere time could effect.
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