, being of
paler wit, will suck his thumb upon a question. A touzled black
exhibits a sulky absorption in his work. An indifferent brown, at
best, runs for an answer to the kitchen. But red-haired and freckled
lads are alive at once. Whether or not their roving spirit, which is
the basis of their deeper and quicker knowledge, proceeds from the
magic of the pigment, the fact yet remains that such boys are surer
than a signpost to direct one to adventure. This truth is so general
that I have read the lives of the voyagers--Robinson Crusoe, Captain
Kidd and the worthies out of Hakluyt--if perhaps a hint might drop
that they too in their younger days were freckled and red-haired. Sir
Walter Raleigh--I choose at random--was doubtless called "Carrots" by
his playmates. But on making inquiry of a red-haired lad, one must
have a clear head in the tumult of his direction. I was once lost for
several hours on the side of Anthony's Nose above the Hudson because I
jumbled such advice. And although I made the acquaintance of a hermit
who dwelt on the mountain with a dog and a scarecrow for his garden--a
fellow so like him in garment and in feature that he seemed his
younger and cleaner brother--still I did not find the top or see the
clear sweep of the Hudson as was promised.

If it is your habit to inquire of distance upon the road, do not
quarrel with conflicting opinion! Judge the answer by the source!
Persons of stalwart limb commonly underestimate a distance, whereas
those of broken wind and stride stretch it greater than it is. But it
is best to take all answers lightly. I have heard of a man who spent
his rainy evenings on a walking trip in going among the soda clerks
and small merchants of the village, not for information, but to
contrast their ignorance. Aladdin's wicked uncle, when he inquired
direction to the mountain of the genii's cave, could not have been so
misdirected. Shoemakers, candy-men and peddlers of tinware--if such
modest merchants existed also on the curb in those magic days--must
have been of nicer knowledge or old Kazrac would never have found the
lamp. In my friend's case, on inquiry, a certain hotel at which we
aimed was both good and bad, open and shut, burned and unburned.

There is a legend of the Catholic Church about a certain holy chapel
that once leaped across the Alps. It seems gross superstition, yet
although I belong to a protesting church, I assert its likelihood. For
I solemnly affirm that