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Updated: June 1, 2025
And, as he's a real shaver, I'll have the minister, or some other responsible man, for an endorser." It was growing dusk when he reached the toll-house on Kimballton turnpike, about a quarter of a mile from the village of this name.
This is one of the superb outlook-points where the full sweep of Lake and encircling mountains is in full and complete view. After a few minutes for gazing the journey is resumed, soon crossing a bridge, near which stand the remnants of the old toll-house. On the right a foot-trail or bridle-path leads to Glen Alpine.
He had got down from the coach, and was walking a little beyond the turning from the toll-house, and I overtook him. He remembered seeing me with you once before, at Stone Court, and he asked me to take him on. I saw he was ill: it seemed to me the right thing to do, to carry him under shelter. And now I think you should lose no time in getting advice for him."
Curiously, the last great fog effect that I have seen was almost the same which Stevenson has described. Last summer we had been staying for a month with our friends who have a summer home about three miles beyond Stevenson's "toll-house." It is, I believe, the most beautiful country-seat on this round earth, and its free and gentle hospitality cannot be surpassed.
It began to rain soon, and I took a foot-path which went winding up through the pine wood. The storm still increased, till everything was cloud and rain, so I was obliged to stop about five o'clock at Oderbruch, a toll-house and tavern on the side of the Brocken, on the boundary between Brunswick and Hanover the second highest inhabited house in the Hartz.
Moore gives a simple but striking anecdote of the first arrival of the poet at the domains of his ancestors. They had arrived at the Newstead toll-bar, and saw the woods of the Abbey stretching out to receive them, when Mrs. Byron, affecting to be ignorant of the place, asked the woman of the toll-house to whom that seat belonged?
A pleasant road, pleasantly wooded. No labourers working in the fields; all gone 't'races. The few late wenders of their way 't'races, who are yet left driving on the road, stare in amazement at the recluse who is not going 't'races. Roadside innkeeper has gone 't'races. Turnpike-man has gone 't'races. His thrifty wife, washing clothes at the toll-house door, is going 't'races' to-morrow.
In the hubbub that followed, the ejaculations and outcries, Nannie's tears, Miss White's terrified scolding, Blair's protestations to David that it wasn't his fault through it all, Elizabeth, wading ashore, was silent. Only at the landing of the toll-house, when poor distracted Cherry-pie bade the boys get a carriage, did she speak: "I won't go in a carriage. I am going to walk home."
But at the first toll-house, while the toll-keeper was changing some money, I experienced the envy of the gods which hitherto I had known only in Schiller's ballad. A pedestrian passed the teacher whom I had offended by playing all sorts of pranks during his French lesson. Not one of the others disliked me.
And I'll tell you what took me from the toll-house but mind, never mention it, as you would keep peace in the west country. This is John's story, as nearly in his own words as I can call them to mind:
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