He wore a brown coat, out at elbows, the fragment of a velvet
waistcoat, and a pair of tight nankeens, so short as hardly to reach below
his calves. A little foraging cap, that had long since seen its best days,
set off an open, good-humored countenance, bronzed by sun and wind. He was
led about by a brisk, middle-aged woman, in straw hat and wooden shoes;
and a little barefooted boy, with clear, blue eyes and flaxen hair, held a
tattered hat in his hand, in which he collected eleemosynary sous. The old
fellow had a favorite song, which he used to sing with great glee to a
merry, joyous air, the burden of which ran "Chantons l'amour et le
plaisir!" I often thought it would have been a good lesson for the crabbed
and discontented rich man to have heard this remnant of humanity--poor,
blind, and in rags, and dependent upon casual charity for his daily bread,
singing in so cheerful a voice the charms of existence, and, as it were,
fiddling life away to a merry tune.
I was one morning called to my window by the sound of rustic music. I
looked out and beheld a procession of villagers advancing along the road,
attired in gay dresses, and marching merrily on in the direction of the
church.
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