按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
a character； I did； an' I stud on a comer an' stumped everybody t' fight with me； an' bime bye an accomanodatin' kind of a chap come along； an' that's all I remember O' what happened。 when I come to； my coat tails had been tore off； I'd lost one leg O' my trousers； a bran new silver watch； tew dollars in money； an a pair O' spectacles。 When I stud up an' tried t' realise what hed happened I felt jes' like a blind rooster with only one leg an' no tail feathers。'
A roar of laughter followed these frank remarks of Mr Tupper and broke into a storm of merriment when Uncle Eb rose and said：
'Mr President； I hope you see that the misfortunes of our friend was due t' war； an' not to intemperance。'
Mr Tupper was unhorsed。 For some minutes he stood helpless or shaking with the emotion that possessed all。 Then he finished lamely and sat down。
The narrowness of the man that saw so much where there was so little in his own experience and in the trivial events of his own township was what I now recognise as most valuable to the purpose of this history。 It was a narrowness that covered a multitude of people in St Lawrence county in those days。
Jed Feary was greeted with applause and then by respectfiil silence when he rose to speak。 The fame of his verse and his learning had gone far beyond the narrow boundaries of the township in which he lived。 It was the biggest thing in the county。 Many a poor sinner who had gone out of Faraway to his long home got his first praise in the obituary poem by Jed Feary。 These tributes were generally published in the county paper and paid for by the relatives of the deceased at the rate of a dollar a day for the time spent on them； or by a few days of board and lodging glory and consolation that was； alas！ too cheap； as one might see by a glance at his forlorn figure。 I shall never forget the courtly manner； so strangely in contrast with the rude deportment of other men in that place； with which he addressed the chairman and the people。 The drawling dialect of the vicinity that flavoured his conversation fell from him like a mantle as he spoke and the light in his soul shone upon that little company a great light； as I now remember； that filled me with burning thoughts of the world and its mighty theatre of action。 The way of my life lay clear before me； as I listened； and its days of toil and the sweet success my God has given me； although I take it humbly and hold it infinitely above my merit。 I was to get learning and seek some way of expressing what was in me。
It would ill become me to try to repeat the words of this venerable seer； but he showed that intemperance was an individual sin； while war was a national evil。 That one meant often the ruin of a race； the other the ruin of a family； that one was as the ocean； the other as a single drop in its waters。 And he told us of the full of empires and the millions that had suffered the oppression of the conqueror and perished by the sword since Agamemnon。
After the debate a young lady read a literary paper full of clumsy wit； rude chronicles of the countryside； essays on 'Spring'； and like topics …the work of the best talent of Faraway。 Then came the decision； after which the meeting adjourned。
At the door some other boys tried 'to cut me out'。 I came through the noisy crowd； however； with Hope on my arm and my heart flill of a great happiness。
'Did you like it？' she asked。
'Very much；' I answered。
'What did you enjoy most？'
'Your company；' I said； with a fine air of gallantry。
'Honestly？'
'Honestly。 I want to take you to Rickard's sometime？'
That was indeed a long cherished hope。
'Maybe I won't let you；' she said。
'Wouldn't you？'
'You'd better ask me sometime and see。'
'I shall。 I wouldn't ask any other girl。'
'Well；' she added； with a sigh； 'if a boy likes one girl I don't think he ought to have anything to do with other girls。 I hate a flirt。'
I happened to hear a footfall in the snow behind us； and looking back saw Ann Jane Foster going slow in easy hearing。 She knew all； as we soon found out。
'I dew jes love t' see young folks enjoy themselves；' said she； 'it's entrancin〃。'
Coming in at our gate I saw a man going over the wall back of the big stables。 The house was dark
'Did you see the night man？' Elizabeth Brower whispered as I lit the lamp。 'Went through the garden just now。 I've been watching him here at the window。'
Chapter 13
The love of labour was counted a great virtue there in Faraway。 As for myself I could never put my heart in a hoe handle or in any like tool of toil。 They made a blister upon my spirit as well as upon my hands。 I tried to find in the sweat of my brow that exalted pleasure of which Mr Greeley had visions in his comfortable retreat on Printing House Square。 But unfortunately I had not his point of view。
Hanging in my library； where I may see it as I write； is the old sickle of Uncle Eb。 The hard hickory of its handle is worn thin by the grip of his hand。 It becomes a melancholy symbol when I remember how also the hickory had worn him thin and bent him low； and how infinitely better than all the harvesting of the sickle was the strength of that man； diminishing as it wore the wood。 I cannot help smiling when I look at the sickle and thank of the soft hands and tender amplitude of Mr Greeley。
The great editor had been a playmate of David Brower when they were boys； and his paper was read with much reverence in our home。
'How quick ye can plough a ten…acre lot with a pen；' Uncle Eb used to say when we had gone up to bed after father had been reading aloud from his Tribune。
Such was the power of the press in that country one had but to say of any doubtful thing； 'Seen it in print；' to stop all argument。 If there were any further doubt he had only to say that he had read it either in the Tribune or the Bible； and couldn't remember which。 Then it was a mere question of veracity in the speaker。 Books and other reading were carefully put away for an improbable time of leisure。
'I might break my leg sometime；' said David Brower； 'then they'll come handy。' But the Tribune was read carefully every week。
I have seen David Brower stop and look at me while I have been digging potatoes； with a sober grin such as came to him always after he had swapped 'hosses' and got the worst of it。 Then he would show me again； with a little impatience in his manner； how to hold the handle and straddle the row。 He would watch me for a moment； turn to Uncle Eb； laugh hopelessly and say： 'Thet boy'll hev to be a minister。 He can't work。'
But for Elizabeth Brower it might have gone hard with me those days。 My mind was always on my books or my last talk with Jed Feary； and she shared my confidence and fed my hopes and shielded me as much as possible from the heavy work。 Hope had a better head for mathematics than I； and had always helped me with my sums； but I had a better memory and an aptitude in other things that kept me at the head of most of my classes。 Best of all at school I enjoyed the 'compositions' … I had many thoughts； such as they were； and some facility of expression； I doubt not； for a child。 Many chronicles of the countryside came off my pen … sketches of odd events and characters there in Faraway。 These were read to the assembled household。 Elizabeth Brower would sit looking gravely down at me； as I stood by her knees reading； in those days of my early boyhood。 Uncle Eb listened with his head turned curiously； as if his ear were cocked for coons。 Sometimes he and David Brower would slap their knees and laugh heartily； whereat my foster mother would give them a quick glance and shake her head。 For she was always fearful of the day when she should see in her children the birth of vanity； and sought to put it off as far as might be。 Sometimes she would cover her mouth to hide a smile； and； when I had finished； look warningly at the rest； and say it was good； for a little boy。 Her praise never went further； and indeed all those people hated flattery as they did the devil and frowned upon conceit She said that when the love of flattery got hold of one he would lie to gain it
I can see this slender； blue…eyed woman as I write。 She is walking up and down be