The Life and Adventures of Maj. Roger Sherman Potter | Page 8

appearance, shone out at church, was got out and brushed, and then
nicely packed away in my valise, which likewise contained an ample
supply of unmentionables, and homemade shirts, and stockings, and
other articles appertaining to the wardrobe of an adventurous young
man. My mother also exercised a wise discretion in the selection of
such books as she thought would afford me "maxims of guidance," as
she called it, through the world. A pocket Bible, and a small volume of
the "Select Edition of Franklin's Maxims," a book in high favor with
the good people of the Cape, were got of a bookseller in Barnstable, a
queer wag, who had got rich by vending a strange quality of literature
and taking fish in exchange. In addition to these good books provided
by my mother, I was careful not to forget my "Polite Speech Maker," a
book which I confess to have studied much. In truth, like many
distinguished members of Congress, I am indebted to it for my great
political popularity. Resolved as I am that this history shall never
swerve from the truth, I would sincerely recommend a study of the
"Polite Speech Maker" to all juvenile politicians, dealers in liquor,
editors of three-cent newspapers, and learned litterateurs, whose names,
according to sundry malicious writers, it is come the fashion of the day
to reflect in one mirror.
In the "Polite Speech Maker" will be found such sentences as "the
tranquilized glory of our glorious country," and "the undying beauties,
that starry emblem, our flag, awakens in our heart of hearts;" and
sundry others, equally abstruse, but no less essential to the objects of
primary meetings. The author of this invaluable work is my learned
friend and very erudite scholar, Dr. Easley. And as some readers hold

the study of an author of much more importance than his book, I may
be excused for saying here that no one can take up one and forget the
other, since literature, as is there set forth, was never before either
blessed or encumbered with so great a doctor.
My library and outfit being complete, my mother, having provided me
with a yellow waistcoat and white plush hat out of her private purse,
gave an evening party in honor of my departure. Parson Stebbins, the
doctor of a neighboring village, (not Easley, for he had set up his
fortunes in New York,) and sundry bright-eyed damsels of my
acquaintance, were invited, and came accompanied by their sturdy
parents. The last jar of jam and applesauce was stormed, the two fattest
pullets in the yard brought to the block, choice mince and pumpkin pies
were propounded, three dollars were expended upon a citron cake such
as Cape Cod had never seen before, and no less than a dozen bottles of
Captain Zeke Brewster's double refined cider was got of Major Cook,
the grocer. Stronger beverages were held in questionable respect by the
Cape folks. My mother did, indeed, busy herself for nearly two days in
the preparation of this supper, declaring at the same time that she
would not be outdone by any housewife this side of Barnstable at least.
Nor did she heed my father, who continued the while muttering his
misgivings.
The stars shone out bright on the night of the party, which passed off to
the delight of every one present. The fowls, and the pies, and the jam
and apple-sauce, and a dish of tea the parson declared could not be
excelled, were all discussed with great cheerfulness. My father, as was
his custom, drew his chair aside after supper, and engaged two of his
guests in religious conversation, while the doctor and the parson got
into a corner, and soon became deeply absorbed in a question of law,
which they debated over the cider.
No sooner had my mother set her table to rights than she, with an air of
motherly watchfulness, drew her chair beside the damsels, with whom I
was exchanging the gossip of the Cape, and entered cheerfully into our
conversation.
More than one of the bright eyed and ruddy cheeked damsels gave out

hints that led me to believe they would have accompanied me on my
journey and shared the fortunes of my career. Nor did their hints disturb
my mother, whose mind was too pure to conceive their attentions aught
else than blessings. And thus, with an abundance of good cheer, and the
interchange of those civilities so common to villagers, and the singing
of an orthodox hymn or two, in which my father joined, while the
doctor and the parson continued their discussion over the cider, passed
one of those rustic evening parties so characteristic of Cape Cod.
Half-past nine o'clock arrived, and it being an hour of bedtime
religiously kept by the villagers,