AT HOME
From infancy， I was under the guardianship of a villageparson， who made me the subject of daily prayer and thesufferer of innumerable stripes， using no distinction， as tothese marks of paternal love， between myself and his ownthree boys. The result， it must be owned， has been verydifferent in their cases and mine； they being all respectablemen， and well settled in life， the eldest as the successor tohis father’s pulpit， the second as a physician， and the thirdas a partner in a wholesale shoe store； while I， with betterprospects than either of them， have run the course， whichthis volume will describe. Yet there is room for doubt，whether I should have been any better contented withsuch success as theirs， than with my own misfortunes； atleast， till after my experience of the latter had made it toolate for another trial.
My guardian had a name of considerable eminence， andfitter for the place it occupies in ecclesiastical history，than for so frivolous a page as mine. In his own vicinity，among the lighter part of his hearers， he was calledParson Thumpcushion， from the very forcible gestureswith which he illustrated his doctrines. Certainly， if hispowers as a preacher were to be estimated by the damagedone to his pulpit furniture， none of his living brethren，and but few dead ones， would have been worthy even topronounce a benediction after him. Such pounding andexpounding， the moment he began to grow warm， suchslapping with his open palm， thumping with his closedfist， and banging with the whole weight of the great Bible，convinced me that he held， in imagination， either theOld Nick or some Unitarian infidel at bay， and belaboredhis unhappy cushion as proxy for those abominableadversaries. Nothing but this exercise of the body， whiledelivering his sermons， could have supported the goodparson’s health under the mental toil， which they cost himin composition.
Though Parson Thumpcushion had an upright heart，and some called it a warm one， he was invariably sternand severe， on principle， I suppose， to me. With latejustice， though early enough， even now， to be tincturedwith generosity， I acknowledge him to have been a goodand a wise man， after his own fashion. If his managementfailed as to myself， it succeeded with his three sons； nor，I must frankly say， could any mode of education， withwhich it was possible for him to be acquainted， have mademe much better than what I was， or led me to a happierfortune than the present. He could neither change thenature that God gave me， nor adapt his own inflexiblemind to my peculiar character. Perhaps it was my chiefmisfortune that I had neither father nor mother alive；for parents have an instinctive sagacity， in regard to thewelfare of their children； and the child feels a confidenceboth in the wisdom and affection of his parents， which hecannot transfer to any delegate of their duties， howeverconscientious. An orphan’s fate is hard， be he rich or poor.
As for Parson Thumpcushion， whenever I see the oldgentleman in my dreams， he looks kindly and sorrowfullyat me， holding out his hand， as if each had something toforgive. With such kindness， and such forgiveness， butwithout the sorrow， may our next meeting be！
I was a youth of gay and happy temperament， with anincorrigible levity of spirit， of no vicious propensities，sensible enough， but wayward and fanciful. What acharacter was this， to be brought in contact with the sternold Pilgrim spirit of my guardian！ We were at variance on athousand points； but our chief and final dispute arose fromthe pertinacity with which he insisted on my adopting aparticular profession； while I， being heir to a moderatecompetence， had avowed my purpose of keeping alooffrom the regular business of life. This would have been adangerous resolution， any where in the world； it was fatal，in New-England. There is a grossness in the conceptionsof my countrymen； they will not be convinced that anygood thing may consist with what they call idleness；they can anticipate nothing but evil of a young man whoneither studies physic， law， nor gospel， nor opens a store，nor takes to farming， but manifests an incomprehensibledisposition to be satisfied with what his father left him.
The principle is excellent， in its general influence， butmost miserable in its effect on the few that violate it. Ihad a quick sensitiveness to public opinion， and felt as ifit ranked me with the tavern-haunters and town-paupers，—with the drunken poet， who hawked his own fourth ofJuly odes， —and the broken soldier， who had been goodfor nothing since last war. The consequence of all this， wasa piece of lighthearted desperation.
I do not over-estimate my notoriety， when I take itfor granted， that many of my readers must have heard ofme， in the wild way of life which I adopted. The idea ofbecoming a wandering story teller had been suggested， ayear or two before， by an encounter with several merryvagabonds in a showman’s wagon， where they and Ihad sheltered our selves during a summer shower. Theproject was not more extravagant than most which ayoung man forms. Stranger ones are executed every day；and not to mention my prototypes in the East， and thewandering orators and poets whom my own ears haveheard， I had the example of one illustrious itinerant inthe other hemisphere； of Goldsmith， who planned andperformed his travels through France and Italy， on a lesspromising scheme than mine. I took credit to myself forvarious qualifications， mental and personal， suited to theundertaking. Besides， my mind had latterly tormented mefor employment， keeping up an irregular activity even insleep， and making me conscious that I must toil， if it werebut in catching butterflies. But my chief motives werediscontent with home， and a bitter grudge against ParsonThumpcushion， who would rather have laid me in myfather’s tomb， than seen me either a novelist or an actor；two characters which I thus hit upon a method of uniting.