The firelight gradually brightens and throws my flickering shadow upon the walls and ceiling of the chamber , but still the storm rages and rattles against the windows . Alas ! I shiver and think it time to be disconsolate , but , taking a farewell glance at dead Nature in her shroud , I perceive a flock of snowbirds skimming lightsomely through the tempest and flitting from drift to drift as sportively as swallows in the delightful prime of summer . Whence come they ? Where do they build their nests and seek their food ? Why , having airy wings , do they not follow summer around the earth , instead of making themselves the playmates of the storm and fluttering on the dreary verge of the winter 's eve ? I know not whence they come , nor why ; yet my spirit has been cheered by that wandering flock of snow-birds . THE SEVEN VAGABONDS . Rambling on foot in the spring of my life and the summer of the year , I came one afternoon to a point which gave me the choice of three directions . Straight before me the main road extended its dusty length to Boston ; on the left a branch went toward the sea , and would have lengthened my journey a trifle of twenty or thirty miles , while by the right-hand path I might have gone over hills and lakes to Canada , visiting in my way the celebrated town of Stamford . On a level spot of grass at the foot of the guide-post appeared an object which , though locomotive on a different principle , reminded me of Gulliver 's portable mansion among the Brobdignags . It was a huge covered wagon -- or , more properly , a small house on wheels -- with a door on one side and a window shaded by green blinds on the other . Two horses munching provender out of the baskets which muzzled them were fastened near the vehicle . A delectable sound of music proceeded from the interior , and I immediately conjectured that this was some itinerant show halting at the confluence of the roads to intercept such idle travellers as myself . A shower had long been climbing up the western sky , and now hung so blackly over my onward path that it was a point of wisdom to seek shelter here . `` Halloo ! Who stands guard here ? Is the doorkeeper asleep ? '' cried I , approaching a ladder of two or three steps which was let down from the wagon . The music ceased at my summons , and there appeared at the door , not the sort of figure that I had mentally assigned to the wandering showman , but a most respectable old personage whom I was sorry to have addressed in so free a style .
He wore a snuff-colored coat and small-clothes , with white top-boots , and exhibited the mild dignity XXXXX aspect and manner which may often be noticed in aged schoolmasters , and sometimes in deacons , selectmen or other potentates of that kind .
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