| 1 | Author: | Cox
William
d. 1851? | Add | | Title: | Crayon sketches | | | Published: | 1997 | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Modern English collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | Description: | It is a wholesome thing to be what is commonly
termed “kicked about the world.” Not literally
“kicked”—not forcibly propelled by innumerable
feet from village to village, from town to town, or
from country to country, which can be neither
wholesome nor agreeable; but knocked about,
tossed about, irregularly jostled over the principal
portions of the two hemispheres; sleeping hard
and soft, living well when you can, and learning
to take what is barely edible and potable ungrumblingly
when there is no help for it. Certes, the
departure from home and old usages is any thing
but pleasant, especially at the outset. It is a sort of
secondary “weaning” which the juvenile has to undergo;
but like the first process, he is all the healthier
and hardier when it is over. In this way, it is
a wholesome thing to be tossed about the world.
To form odd acquaintance in ships, on the decks of
steam boats and tops of coaches; to pick up temporary
companions on turnpikes or by hedge-sides;
to see humanity in the rough, and learn what stuff
life is made of in different places; to mark the
shades and points of distinction in men, manners,
customs, cookery, and other important matters as
you stroll along. What an universal toleration it
begets! How it improves and enlarges a man's
physical and intellectual tastes and capacities! How
diminutively local and ridiculously lilliputian seem
his former experiences! He is now no longer bigotted
to a doctrine or a dish, but can fall in with
one, or eat of the other, however strange and foreign,
with a facility that is truly comfortable and
commendable: always, indeed, excepting, such
doctrines as affect the feelings and sentiments, which
he should ever keep “garner'd up” in his “heart of
hearts;” and also, always excepting the swallowing
of certain substances, so very peculiar in themselves,
and so strictly national, that the undisciplined
palate of the foreigner instinctively and utterly
rejects them, such as the frog of your Frenchman—
the garlic of your Spaniard—the compounds termed
sausages of your Cockney—the haggis of your
Scotchman—the train-oil of your Russian. | | Similar Items: | Find |
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