Of all the creatures of commercial enterprise, a canal barge is by

far the most delightful to consider. It may spread its sails, and

then you see it sailing high above the tree-tops and the windmill,

sailing on the aqueduct, sailing through the green corn-lands: the

most picturesque of things amphibious. Or the horse plods along at

a foot-pace as if there were no such thing as business in the

world; and the man dreaming at the tiller sees the same spire on

the horizon all day long. It is a mystery how things ever get to

their destination at this rate; and to see the barges waiting their

turn at a lock, affords a fine lesson of how easily the world may

be taken. There should be many contented spirits on board, for

such a life is both to travel and to stay at home.

The chimney smokes for dinner as you go along; the banks of the

canal slowly unroll their scenery to contemplative eyes; the barge

floats by great forests and through great cities with their public

buildings and their lamps at night; and for the bargee, in his

floating home, 'travelling abed,' it is merely as if he were

listening to another man's story or turning the leaves of a

picture-book in which he had no concern. He may take his afternoon

walk in some foreign country on the banks of the canal, and then

come home to dinner at his own fireside.

There is not enough exercise in such a life for any high measure of

health; but a high measure of health is only necessary for

unhealthy people. The slug of a fellow, who is never ill nor well,

has a quiet time of it in life, and dies all the easier.

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