Despite his father’s expressed desire, Phil went to New York on Sol Mantring’s sloop1. The difference in time promised to be a day or two days, but the difference in cash outlay2 was more than five dollars,—a sum which no one in the vicinity of Hayn Farm had ever been known to spend needlessly without coming to grief. Between cash in hand and its nominal3 equivalent in time, Phil, like most other prudent4 young countrymen, had learned to distinguish with alacrity5 and positiveness: besides, he knew how small was the amount of ready money that his father, in spite of care and skill at his business, was able to show for more than a quarter of a century of hard work.
The young man’s departure was the occasion for quite a demonstration6 by the neighbors. Other young men of the vicinage had been to New York, but generally they were those whom their neighbors did not hope to see again; Phil, on the contrary, was a general favorite. His family intended that no one should know of the journey until Phil was fairly off, for they knew by experience, in which sometimes they had been the offenders7, how insatiable is rural curiosity about any doings out of the ordinary. But{28} when Sol Mantring told his wife that Phil was to go down with him as a “hand,” Mrs. Mantring straight-way put on her best things and went out to tell all her neighbors that Phil Hayn was going down to York, and, being a woman who never did anything by halves, she afterward8 plodded9 the dusty road that led to the little village at the railway-station, where she consumed several hours in doing petty shopping at the several stores, varying this recreation by industrious10 gossip with every acquaintance who dropped in. As each person who heard the news wondered what Phil was going for, and as Mrs. Mantring was sure she didn’t know any better than dead-and-gone Adam, there was developed a wealth of surmise11 and theory that should have forever dispelled12 the general impression that Americans are not an imaginative people.
For the remainder of Phil’s time at home the family and its eldest13 son had scarcely enough time to themselves to attend to their daily devotions. People came to borrow something, to bring news, to ask advice,—anything that would be an excuse to see what might be going on and to learn why Phil was going to the city. Phil’s parents had prepared what they supposed would be sufficient explanation: the farm and the house needed some things that could better be selected from large stocks and variety than bought nearer home. But they had underrated the persistency14 of local curiosity: numberless pointed15 questions were asked, and if in the course of a week there had been any visitor who did not ask, in one way or other, whether Phil would go to see the{29} Tramlays, the family did not know who it had been; they were sure they would have gratefully noted16 such a considerate person at the time, and remembered him—or her—forever after.
There were scores, too, who wanted Phil to do them small services in the city. Farmer Blewitt had heard that the car-companies often sold for almost nothing the horses that broke down at their hard work and needed only plenty of rest and pasturage to make them as good as new: wouldn’t Phil look about and see if he couldn’t get him a bargain?—and bring it back oil the sloop, if he wouldn’t mind feeding and watering it on the home trip! Old Mrs. Wholley had been finding her spectacles so young that she didn’t know but she needed stronger glasses, or maybe a Bible with larger print: if Phil would price both and write her, she would try to make up her mind what she ought to do. Samantha Roobles had been telling her husband James for the last five years that their best-room carpet was too shabby for people who might have a funeral in the family at any time, James’s stepmother being very old and sickly, but James wouldn’t do anything but put off, and as for her, she wasn’t going to be cheated out of her eye-teeth at the stores at the dép?t, when year before last she saw in a York newspaper, that the wind blew out of the hand of somebody leaning out of a train window, that good ingrains were selling in New York at thirty-five cents a yard: she wished Phil would pick her out one.
Besides many requests like these, Phil had to make promises to dozens of young men and women whose{30} wants were smaller, but none the easier to attend to: so the prospective17 traveller and his parents had the pains of parting alleviated18 by the thought that not until Phil departed would any of them have peace. The day of sailing brought a great throng19 of visitors,—so many that the minister, who was of the number, extemporized20 a “neighborhood prayer-meeting,” at which Providence21 was implored22 to “save our dear young brother from the perils23 of the deep,” and informed of so many of Phil’s good qualities that only an inborn24 respect for religious forms restrained the modest youth from sneaking25 out of the back door and hiding in the hull26 of the sloop until there was a broad expanse of water between him and the shore.
Then the entire throng, excepting two or three old ladies who remained with Mrs. Hayn “to help her bear up, poor soul,” escorted Phil to the sloop. Among them was a predominance of young men who looked as if in case Phil should want a substitute they were ready, and of young women whose faces indicated that if Phil should care to say anything tender to anybody, just to have something to think about while away, he should have no excuse to leave it unsaid. Sol Mantring cut the parting short by remarking that prayer was all very well in its place, but he didn’t believe in it keeping a sloop in a shallow river while the tide was falling and no wind to help her out. So Phil hurried aboard, though not before his father had almost crushed his hand with a grasp that had been developed by many years of training with bridle-reins, axe-helves, and paternal27 affection.
Some one cast off the sloop’s hawser28; the mainsail{31} was already up, and the craft began to drift out with the tide. This was the signal for a flutter of handkerchiefs and a chorus of cheers, during which Farmer Hayn plodded along the river-bank beside the sloop, regardless of mud, stones, marsh29 grass and cat-tails. He seemed to have no last injunctions for his boy; indeed, his occasional shouts were bestowed30 principally upon Sol Mantring, who stood at the wheel, and they had no more relation to Phil than to the Khan of Khiva. In like manner Phil seemed less interested in his father than in the maze31 of cordage at the foot of the mast. Nevertheless, when the river-bank ended at the shore of the bay, and could be followed no longer, the old man stood there, as Sol Mantring said afterward, “lookin’ as if he’d lost his last friend, never expected to git another, an’ he’d got ten year older all of a sudden,” and Phil, when he saw this, straightened in front of the friendly mast which hid him from the remainder of the crew, and threw kisses to his father, with the profusion32 of early childhood, as long as he could distinguish the dingy33 old coat and hat from the stones of similar hue34 that marked the little point.
“The perils of the deep” were happily averted35. Indeed, Phil would willingly have endured more could the wind have blown harder. The sloop finally made her pier36 in New York about dusk of the second day. Phil hastily donned his best suit, and as the part of the city in which the iron-merchants cluster was not far away, and Sol Mantring knew the streets of that portion of the city, Phil started, with minute directions from the skipper, to call on Mr. Tramlay.{32} His singleness of purpose made him unconscious that he was acting37 in a manner not common to him, but as he climbed the side of the pier and hurried toward the mass of light before him Sol Mantring remarked to the remainder of the crew, consisting of two men,—
“I knowed it.”
“Knowed what?”
“He’s gal-struck. Got it bad.”
Phil made his way up the principal thoroughfare from New York to Brooklyn, wondering at the thronged38 sidewalks and brilliantly-lighted shops, but he did not neglect to eye the street-names on corner-lamps. Soon he turned into a street which was part of his course as laid down by Sol; at the same time he turned from light to darkness, the change being almost appalling39 in its suddenness. Still he hurried on, and after another turn began to look for numbers on the fronts of buildings. His heart bounded within him as he suddenly saw, by the light of a street-lamp, the sign EDGAR TRAMLAY. In an instant his hand was on the door-knob; but the door did not open. Through the glass door he saw two or three dim lights within. Probably the proprietor40 was at his desk; perhaps, too, he should have knocked; so knock he did.
“What d’ye want there, young feller?” shouted a policeman across the street.
“I want to see Mr. Tramlay.”
“Guess your watch is slow, ain’t it?” growled41 the officer.
“I don’t know: maybe so,” Phil replied.{33}
“Don’t you know better’n to come huntin’ down here for a bizness-man after six o’clock at night?” asked the officer.
Phil admitted to himself that he did not; still, he had come ashore42 to find Mr. Tramlay, and the idea of giving up the search did not occur to him. He finally asked,—
“Where do you suppose I can find him?”
“At home, I guess, if he’s one of the kind that goes straight home from his store.”
“I reckon he is,” said Phil. “Will you please tell me where he lives?”
“Oh, come off!” muttered the policeman. “D’ye s’pose I ain’t got nothin’ to do but know where folks live? Where was you brought up?—‘way back?”
“I’m sorry I bothered you, sir,” said Phil, who now saw the officer’s uniform, and recognized it, by memory of pictures he had seen in illustrated43 newspapers. “Isn’t there any way to find out where a man lives in New York?”
“Certainly; look in the Directory. Go up to Broadway,—it’s up at the head of this street,—an’ go along till you find a drug-store. Like enough you’ll find a Directory there.”
Phil followed instructions, and learned the street and number of the Tramlay domicile. In front of him street-cars were continually coming and going, and by the conductors of these he was referred from one to another until he found a car which went to the street he wanted to reach. Although Phil knew the city was large, the journey seemed very long; it{34} was made an hour longer than it should have been; for a fire had broken out somewhere along the route, and engine-hose blockaded the railway-track. When finally the desired street was reached, Phil found himself several hundred numbers away from that he was looking for, and it was then nearly nine o’clock.
“I’ve half a mind to give it up,” said Phil, as he walked rapidly along. “Perhaps they go to bed early: there’s no telling. Still, if they’re abed I’ll know it by the lights being out. I don’t seem to walk down these numbers very fast.”
He quickened his steps; he almost ran; but more than a quarter of an hour passed before he saw on a glass transom the number that indicated his journey was at an end. Phil stopped; then he crossed the street, and surveyed the house carefully.
“Lights in all the windows,” said he. “That looks as if they’d all gone to their own rooms; looks like bed-time. I was afraid of it. I suppose there’s nothing to do but go back to the sloop, or find some place to lodge44. Too bad!”
He re-crossed the street, and ascended45 a step or two: truthful46 though he was, he would have denied to any one but himself that he did it only because Lucia had tripped up those same steps. Slowly he descended47 and walked away; but he had passed but a house or two, and was looking backward, when a man who had passed him ran up the Tramlay steps. Then Phil saw a flash of light and heard a door close.
“That wasn’t Mr. Tramlay. There aren’t any other men in the family. He must be a visitor.{35} Well, if other men can call at this time of night, I guess I can visit it too.”
Back he went, and, as he was unacquainted with the outer mechanism48 of door-bells, he rapped sharply upon the door. It opened instantly, and as Phil stepped in he found the hall and stairway, as well as the parlors49, quite full of ladies and gentlemen.
“It’s a party,” he said to himself. Then he informed himself, in great haste, that he would postpone50 his visit, but as he turned to go he found the door was closed, and a small colored boy who stood by it said, “Gen’lmen fust room back,” and pointed up-stairs. Entirely51 losing his self-possession, and wondering what to do, Phil stood stupidly staring about him, when suddenly he saw Lucia in full evening dress. He hastily dropped his eyes, for he had never before seen a dress of that particular cut.
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1
sloop
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| n.单桅帆船 | |
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outlay
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| n.费用，经费，支出；v.花费 | |
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nominal
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| adj.名义上的；(金额、租金)微不足道的 | |
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prudent
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| adj.谨慎的，有远见的，精打细算的 | |
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alacrity
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| n.敏捷，轻快，乐意 | |
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demonstration
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| n.表明，示范，论证，示威 | |
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7
offenders
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| n.冒犯者( offender的名词复数 )；犯规者；罪犯；妨害…的人（或事物） | |
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afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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plodded
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| v.沉重缓慢地走（路）( plod的过去式和过去分词 )；努力从事；沉闷地苦干；缓慢进行（尤指艰难枯燥的工作） | |
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industrious
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| adj.勤劳的，刻苦的，奋发的 | |
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surmise
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| v./n.猜想，推测 | |
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dispelled
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| v.驱散，赶跑( dispel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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13
eldest
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| adj.最年长的，最年老的 | |
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14
persistency
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| n. 坚持(余辉, 时间常数) | |
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15
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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prospective
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| adj.预期的，未来的，前瞻性的 | |
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alleviated
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| 减轻，缓解，缓和( alleviate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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throng
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| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
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extemporized
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| v.即兴创作，即席演奏( extemporize的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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providence
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| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
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implored
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| 恳求或乞求（某人）( implore的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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perils
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| 极大危险( peril的名词复数 )； 危险的事（或环境） | |
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inborn
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| adj.天生的，生来的，先天的 | |
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sneaking
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| a.秘密的，不公开的 | |
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hull
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| n.船身；(果、实等的)外壳；vt.去(谷物等)壳 | |
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paternal
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| adj.父亲的，像父亲的，父系的，父方的 | |
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hawser
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| n.大缆；大索 | |
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marsh
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| n.沼泽，湿地 | |
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30
bestowed
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| 赠给，授予( bestow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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maze
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| n.迷宫，八阵图，混乱，迷惑 | |
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profusion
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| n.挥霍；丰富 | |
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dingy
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| adj.昏暗的，肮脏的 | |
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hue
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| n.色度；色调；样子 | |
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35
averted
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| 防止，避免( avert的过去式和过去分词 )； 转移 | |
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pier
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| n.码头；桥墩，桥柱；[建]窗间壁，支柱 | |
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acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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thronged
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| v.成群，挤满( throng的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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appalling
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| adj.骇人听闻的，令人震惊的，可怕的 | |
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proprietor
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| n.所有人；业主；经营者 | |
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41
growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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42
ashore
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| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
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43
illustrated
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| adj. 有插图的，列举的 动词illustrate的过去式和过去分词 | |
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44
lodge
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| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
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45
ascended
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| v.上升，攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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46
truthful
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| adj.真实的，说实话的，诚实的 | |
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47
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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48
mechanism
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| n.机械装置；机构，结构 | |
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49
parlors
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| 客厅( parlor的名词复数 )； 起居室； （旅馆中的）休息室； （通常用来构成合成词）店 | |
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50
postpone
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| v.延期，推迟 | |
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51
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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