- end_line
- 10949
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:47:57.726Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 10881
- text
- boat, "Ah, sir, though every one must be pleased at the thought of the
presence in public places of such a book, yet there is something that
abates the satisfaction. Look at this volume; on the outside, battered
as any old valise in the baggage-room; and inside, white and virgin as
the hearts of lilies in bud."
"So it is, so it is," said the old man sadly, his attention for the
first directed to the circumstance.
"Nor is this the only time," continued the other, "that I have observed
these public Bibles in boats and hotels. All much like this--old
without, and new within. True, this aptly typifies that internal
freshness, the best mark of truth, however ancient; but then, it speaks
not so well as could be wished for the good book's esteem in the minds
of the traveling public. I may err, but it seems to me that if more
confidence was put in it by the traveling public, it would hardly be
so."
With an expression very unlike that with which he had bent over the
Detector, the old man sat meditating upon his companions remarks a
while; and, at last, with a rapt look, said: "And yet, of all people,
the traveling public most need to put trust in that guardianship which
is made known in this book."
"True, true," thoughtfully assented the other. "And one would think they
would want to, and be glad to," continued the old man kindling; "for,
in all our wanderings through this vale, how pleasant, not less than
obligatory, to feel that we need start at no wild alarms, provide for no
wild perils; trusting in that Power which is alike able and willing to
protect us when we cannot ourselves."
His manner produced something answering to it in the cosmopolitan, who,
leaning over towards him, said sadly: "Though this is a theme on which
travelers seldom talk to each other, yet, to you, sir, I will say, that
I share something of your sense of security. I have moved much about the
world, and still keep at it; nevertheless, though in this land, and
especially in these parts of it, some stories are told about steamboats
and railroads fitted to make one a little apprehensive, yet, I may say
that, neither by land nor by water, am I ever seriously disquieted,
however, at times, transiently uneasy; since, with you, sir, I believe
in a Committee of Safety, holding silent sessions over all, in an
invisible patrol, most alert when we soundest sleep, and whose beat lies
as much through forests as towns, along rivers as streets. In short, I
never forget that passage of Scripture which says, 'Jehovah shall be thy
confidence.' The traveler who has not this trust, what miserable
misgivings must be his; or, what vain, short-sighted care must he take
of himself."
"Even so," said the old man, lowly.
"There is a chapter," continued the other, again taking the book,
"which, as not amiss, I must read you. But this lamp, solar-lamp as it
is, begins to burn dimly."
"So it does, so it does," said the old man with changed air, "dear me,
it must be very late. I must to bed, to bed! Let me see," rising and
looking wistfully all round, first on the stools and settees, and then
on the carpet, "let me see, let me see;--is there anything I have
forgot,--forgot? Something I a sort of dimly remember. Something, my
son--careful man--told me at starting this morning, this very morning.
Something about seeing to--something before I got into my berth. What
could it be? Something for safety. Oh, my poor old memory!"
"Let me give a little guess, sir. Life-preserver?"
"So it was. He told me not to omit seeing I had a life-preserver in my
state-room; said the boat supplied them, too. But where are they? I
don't see any. What are they like?"
- title
- Chunk 8