Far Away and Long Ago | Page 8

had a small, sun-parched face,
and silvery long hair; but his features were fine, his teeth white and
even, his eyes clear grey and keen as a falcon's. There was always a set
expression of deep mental anguish on his face, intensified with perhaps
a touch of insanity, which made it painful to look at him. As he never
accepted money or anything but food, he of course made his own
garments--and what garments they were! Many years ago I used to see,
strolling about St. James's Park, a huge hairy gentleman, with a
bludgeon in his hand, and clothed with a bear's skin to which the head
and paws were attached. It may be that this eccentric individual is
remembered by some of my readers, but I assure them that he was quite
a St. James's Park dandy compared with my hermit. He wore a pair of
gigantic shoes, about a foot broad at the toes, made out of thick cow-
hide with the hair on; and on his head was a tall rimless cow-hide hat
shaped like an inverted flower-pot. His bodily covering was, however,
the most extraordinary: the outer garment, if garment it can be called,
resembled a very large mattress in size and shape, with the ticking
made of innumerable pieces of raw hide sewn together. It was about a
foot in thickness and stuffed with sticks, stones, hard lumps of clay,
rams' horns, bleached bones, and other hard heavy objects; it was
fastened round him with straps of hide, and reached nearly to the
ground. The figure he made in this covering was most horribly uncouth
and grotesque, and his periodical visits used to throw us into a great
state of excitement. And as if this awful burden with which he had
saddled himself--enough to have crushed down any two ordinary

men--was not sufficient, he had weighted the heavy stick used to
support his steps with a great ball at the end, also with a large circular
bell- shaped object surrounding the middle. On arriving at the house,
where the dogs would become frantic with terror and rage at sight of
him, he would stand resting himself for eight or ten minutes; then in a
strange language, which might have been Hebrew or Sanscrit, for there
was no person learned enough in the country to understand it, he would
make a long speech or prayer in a clear ringing voice, intoning his
words in a monotonous sing-song. His speech done, he would beg, in
broken Spanish, for the usual charity; and, after receiving it, he would
commence another address, possibly invoking blessings of all kinds on
the donor, and lasting an unconscionable time. Then, bidding a
ceremonious farewell, he would take his departure.
From the sound of certain oft-recurring expressions in his recitations
we children called him "Con-stair Lo-vair"; perhaps some clever pundit
will be able to tell me what these words mean--the only fragment saved
of the hermit's mysterious language. It was commonly reported that he
had at one period of his life committed some terrible crime, and that,
pursued by the phantoms of remorse, he had fled to this distant region,
where he would never be met and denounced by any former companion,
and had adopted his singular mode of life by way of penance. This was,
of course, mere conjecture, for nothing could be extracted from him.
When closely questioned or otherwise interfered with, then old
Con-stair Lo-vair would show that his long cruel penance had not yet
banished the devil from his heart. A terrible wrath would disfigure his
countenance and kindle his eyes with demoniac fire; and in sharp
ringing tones, that wounded like strokes, he would pour forth a torrent
of words in his unknown language, doubtless invoking every
imaginable curse on his tormentor.
For upwards of twenty years after I as a small child made his
acquaintance he continued faithfully pursuing his dreary rounds,
exposed to cold and rain in winter and to the more trying heats of
summer; until at last he was discovered lying dead on the plain, wasted
by old age and famine to a mere skeleton, and even in death still
crushed down with that awful burden he had carried for so many years.
Thus, consistent to the end, and with his secret untold to any
sympathetic human soul, perished poor old Con-stair Lo-vair, the

strangest of all strange beings I have met with in my journey through
life.

CHAPTER II
MY NEW HOME
We quit our old home--A winter day journey--Aspect of the
country--Our new home--A prisoner in the barn--The plantation--A
paradise of rats-- An evening scene--The people of the house--A beggar
on horseback--Mr. Trigg our schoolmaster--His double
nature--Impersonates an old woman-- Reading Dickens--Mr. Trigg
degenerates--Once more a homeless wanderer on the great plain.