It was a triumph of pluck and grit15, for at the end of four long months the widow received her cobbled boots. Her half-crown had been completed. "I had them two years; they lasted me well—ever so much better than a cheap new pair," the widow told me; nevertheless, she was glad to leave them behind and go home with her feet shod resplendently in a new pair of seven-and-elevenpenny. She might venture to lift the front of her old dress now as she crossed the street, and I am sure that she did not forget to do it, for she was still a woman, in spite of all, and had some of that quality left severe people call vanity, but which I like to think of as self-respect.
"How is it," I was asked by a critical lady, "that your poor women let their dresses drag on the pavement and crossings? I never see any of them lift their dresses behind or in front. They must get very dirty and insanitary." "My dear madam," I replied, "they dare not, for neither their insteps nor their heels are presentable;[Pg 215] but give them some new boots, and they will lift their dresses often enough and high enough."
There was another pair, too, that had come down, and they invited speculative16 thought. They were not born in the slums or fitted for the slums, but they came into a poor widow's possession nevertheless. They had not been patched or cobbled, and just enough of their former glory remained to allow of judgment17 being passed upon them. They had been purchased at a "jumble18 sale" for threepence, and were dear at the price. The feet that had originally worn them had doubtless trodden upon carpet, and rested luxuriantly upon expensive hearthrugs. They were shoes, if you please, with three straps19 across the insteps, high, fashionable heels, buckles20 and bows in front. But their high heels had disappeared, the buckles had long since departed, the instep straps were broken and dilapidated, the pointed21 toes were open, and the heels were worn down. When completely worn out and unmendable, some lady had sent them to a local clergyman for the benefit of the poor. I gazed on them, and then quite understood, not for the first time, that there is a kind of charity that demoralizes the poor, but it is a charity that is not once blessed.
Here was an old pair of "Plimsolls," whose rubber soles had long ago departed; there a pair of shoes that had done duty at the seaside, whose tops had originally been brown canvas, and whose soles had been presumably leather; here a pair of "lace-ups"; there a pair of "buttons"—but the lace-holes were all broken, and buttons were not to be seen.
[Pg 216]
But whatever their style and make had been, and whoever might have been their original wearers, they had now one common characteristic—that of utter and complete uselessness. I ought to have been disgusted with the old rubbish, but somehow the old things appealed to me, though they seemed to reproach me, and lay their social death to my charge and their present neglect to my interference. But gladness was mixed with pathos22, for I knew that a hundred widows had gone to their homes decently booted on a dismal23 Christmas Eve.
But now, leaving the old boots to the fate that awaited them, I will tell of the women who had so recently possessed24 them.
It had long been a marvel25 to me how the very poor obtained boots of any sort and kind. I had learned so much of their lives and of their ways and means that I realized boots and shoes for elderly widows or young widows with children must be a serious matter. Accordingly, at this particular Christmas I issued, on behalf of the Home Workers' Aid Association, invitations to one hundred widows to my house, where each widow was to receive a new pair of boots and Christmas fare. They came, all of them, and as we kept open house all day, I had plenty of time to converse26 with them individually. I learned something that day, so I want to place faithfully before my readers some of the things that happened and some of the stories that were told.
One of the first to arrive was an elderly widow, accompanied by her epileptic daughter, aged1 thirty. I looked askance at the daughter, and[Pg 217] said to the widow: "I did not invite your daughter." "No, sir; but I thought you would not mind her coming." "But I do mind, for if every widow brings a grown-up daughter to-day I shall have two hundred women instead of one hundred." "I am very sorry, sir; but I could not come without her." They sat down to some food, and my wife looked up a few things for the daughter. "Now for the boots," I said. "Of course, we cannot give your daughter a pair." "No," said the widow; "we only want one pair." I knew what was coming, for I had taken stock of the daughter, who was much bigger than her mother. "What size do you take?" "Please, sir, can my daughter try them on?" "No; the boots are for you." "Oh yes, sir, they will be my boots, but please let my daughter try them on." It was too palpable, so I said: "Your daughter has bigger feet than you have." "Yes, sir." "And you want a pair that will fit either of you?" "Yes, sir." "Then when you go out you will wear them?" "Oh yes, sir." "And when your daughter goes out, she will wear them—in fact, you want a pair between you?" "Yes, sir," the reply came eagerly from both. "Well, put your right feet forward." They did, and there was no doubt about it: mother and daughter both stood sadly in need, though they scarcely stood in boots; no doubt, either, as to the relative sizes. The daughter required "nines" and the mother "fives." I gave them a note to a local shopkeeper, where the daughter was duly fitted, so they went away happy, because they jointly28 possessed a new pair of "seven-and-elevenpenny's."[Pg 218] But whether the widow ever wore them, I am more than doubtful. It is the self-denial of the very poor that touches me. It is so wonderful, so common, perhaps, that we do not notice it. It is so unobtrusive and so genuine. We never find poor widows jingling29 money-boxes in the streets and demanding public contributions because it is their "self-denial week." Their self-denial lasts through life, but the public are not informed of it. I fancy that I should have had an impossible task if I had asked, or tried to persuade, the widow to go into the streets and solicit30 help because she had denied herself a pair of boots for the sake of her afflicted31 daughter. Oh, it is very beautiful, but, alas32! it is very sad. The poor couple worked at home in their one room when they had work to do and when the daughter's fits did not prevent. They made "ladies' belts," and starved at the occupation.
Another widow had four young children; her feet were partly encased in a flimsy pair of broken patent slippers33. She, too, had her note to the shoemaker's.
A deep snow fell during the night, and on the morning of Boxing Day it lay six inches deep. I thought of the widows and their sound boots, and felt comforted; but my complacency soon vanished. I was out early in the streets, warmly clad, spurning34 the snow—in fact, rather enjoying it—and thinking, as I have said, with some pleasure of the widows and their boots, when I met the widow who has four young children. She was for hurrying past me, but I stopped her and spoke35. "A bitter morning, this." "Yes, sir; is it not[Pg 219] a deep snow?" "I am so glad you have sound boots. You had them just in time. Your old slippers would not have been of much use a morning like this." "No, sir." "Did you get what suited you?" "Yes, sir." "Fit you all right?" "Yes, sir." "Did you have buttons or lace-up?" "Lace-up, sir." "That's right. Lift up the front of your dress. I want to see whether the shopman has given you a good pair." She began to cry, and, to my astonishment36, the old broken patent slippers were revealed, half buried in the snow. "Don't be cross," she burst out. "I did not mean to deceive you. I got two pairs for the children: they wanted them worse than I do."
I learned afterwards from the shopman that she added a shilling to the cost of a pair for herself, and the shopman, being kind-hearted, gave her another shilling, so she went home with her two pairs of strong boots for her boys. Of course, I told her that she had done wrong—I even professed37 to be angry; but I think she saw through my pretence38. What can be done for, or with, such women? How can anyone help them when they are so deceitful? However, I forgave her, and confirmed her in her wickedness by next day sending the shop assistant to her home with several pairs of women's boots that she might select a pair for herself. That kind of deceit has an attraction for me.
"How long have you been a widow?" I asked one of the women. "Twelve years, sir." "How long is it since you had a new pair of boots?" "Not since my husband's funeral, sir." Twelve[Pg 220] long years since she felt the glow of satisfaction that comes from the feeling of being well shod; twelve years since she listened to the ringing sound of a firm heel in brisk contact with the pavement; twelve years she had gone with that muffled39, almost noiseless sound so peculiar40 to poor women, telling as it does of old slippers or of boots worn to the uppers! What a pity, when so many shoemakers are seeking customers! There is a tremendous moral force in a new pair of boots that possess good firm heels. Everybody that hears them knows instinctively41 what the sound means, and the neighbours say: "Mrs. Jones is getting on a bit: she is wearing a new pair of boots. Didn't you hear them?"
Hear them! Of course they had heard them, and had been jealous of them, too; but that kind of music is not heard every day among London's very poor, and for a time Mrs. Jones was on a higher plane than her neighbours; but by-and-by she comes back to them, for the heels wear away, and she has no others to put on whilst they are repaired, so gradually they slip down to the chronic42 condition of poor women's boots; then Mrs. Jones's ringing footsteps are heard no more.
My shopman told me that he had been in a difficulty; he could not find a pair of boots large enough for one young widow. He searched his store, and found a pair—size eleven—that he had had by him for some years; but, alas! size eleven was not big enough. He offered to procure43 a last of sufficient proportion and make a pair of boots for her, kindly44 saying that he would not charge anything extra for size. I told him to get[Pg 221] a proper last made for the young woman, who took "twelves." This he did, so now a poor blouse-maker, who keeps an aged and invalid45 mother, has her boots made to order, and built upon her own "special last." When I had made this arrangement, I was puzzled to know in what way she had previously46 obtained boots, so I asked him: "What boots was she wearing when she came to your shop?" He laughed, and said: "A very old pair of men's tennis-shoes—of large size, too." I had known her for many years, and had admired her cleanliness and neatness. I had known, too, how miserable47 her earnings48 were, and how many demands her aged mother made upon her. She was upright in carriage, and of good appearance; self-respecting, and eminently49 respectable, she carried her secret nobly, though the dual27 burden of size twelves and men's tennis-shoes must have been very trying. I told her of our arrangement about the last, but, of course, made no reference to the dimensions of her feet; but I often wonder how she felt when she put on her new boots.
点击收听单词发音
1 aged | |
adj.年老的,陈年的 | |
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2 contemplated | |
adj. 预期的 动词contemplate的过去分词形式 | |
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3 inflicted | |
把…强加给,使承受,遭受( inflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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4 sauciness | |
n.傲慢,鲁莽 | |
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5 battered | |
adj.磨损的;v.连续猛击;磨损 | |
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6 meek | |
adj.温顺的,逆来顺受的 | |
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7 humiliated | |
感到羞愧的 | |
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8 gall | |
v.使烦恼,使焦躁,难堪;n.磨难 | |
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9 dealer | |
n.商人,贩子 | |
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10 second-hand | |
adj.用过的,旧的,二手的 | |
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11 coveted | |
adj.令人垂涎的;垂涎的,梦寐以求的v.贪求,觊觎(covet的过去分词);垂涎;贪图 | |
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12 pawnbroking | |
n.典当业 | |
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13 forfeited | |
(因违反协议、犯规、受罚等)丧失,失去( forfeit的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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14 thriftiness | |
节俭,节约 | |
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15 grit | |
n.沙粒,决心,勇气;v.下定决心,咬紧牙关 | |
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16 speculative | |
adj.思索性的,暝想性的,推理的 | |
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17 judgment | |
n.审判;判断力,识别力,看法,意见 | |
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18 jumble | |
vt.使混乱,混杂;n.混乱;杂乱的一堆 | |
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19 straps | |
n.带子( strap的名词复数 );挎带;肩带;背带v.用皮带捆扎( strap的第三人称单数 );用皮带抽打;包扎;给…打绷带 | |
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20 buckles | |
搭扣,扣环( buckle的名词复数 ) | |
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21 pointed | |
adj.尖的,直截了当的 | |
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22 pathos | |
n.哀婉,悲怆 | |
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23 dismal | |
adj.阴沉的,凄凉的,令人忧郁的,差劲的 | |
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24 possessed | |
adj.疯狂的;拥有的,占有的 | |
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25 marvel | |
vi.(at)惊叹vt.感到惊异;n.令人惊异的事 | |
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26 converse | |
vi.谈话,谈天,闲聊;adv.相反的,相反 | |
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27 dual | |
adj.双的;二重的,二元的 | |
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28 jointly | |
ad.联合地,共同地 | |
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29 jingling | |
叮当声 | |
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30 solicit | |
vi.勾引;乞求;vt.请求,乞求;招揽(生意) | |
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31 afflicted | |
使受痛苦,折磨( afflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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32 alas | |
int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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33 slippers | |
n. 拖鞋 | |
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34 spurning | |
v.一脚踢开,拒绝接受( spurn的现在分词 ) | |
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35 spoke | |
n.(车轮的)辐条;轮辐;破坏某人的计划;阻挠某人的行动 v.讲,谈(speak的过去式);说;演说;从某种观点来说 | |
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36 astonishment | |
n.惊奇,惊异 | |
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37 professed | |
公开声称的,伪称的,已立誓信教的 | |
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38 pretence | |
n.假装,作假;借口,口实;虚伪;虚饰 | |
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39 muffled | |
adj.(声音)被隔的;听不太清的;(衣服)裹严的;蒙住的v.压抑,捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 );用厚厚的衣帽包着(自己) | |
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40 peculiar | |
adj.古怪的,异常的;特殊的,特有的 | |
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41 instinctively | |
adv.本能地 | |
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42 chronic | |
adj.(疾病)长期未愈的,慢性的;极坏的 | |
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43 procure | |
vt.获得,取得,促成;vi.拉皮条 | |
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44 kindly | |
adj.和蔼的,温和的,爽快的;adv.温和地,亲切地 | |
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45 invalid | |
n.病人,伤残人;adj.有病的,伤残的;无效的 | |
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46 previously | |
adv.以前,先前(地) | |
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47 miserable | |
adj.悲惨的,痛苦的;可怜的,糟糕的 | |
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48 earnings | |
n.工资收人;利润,利益,所得 | |
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49 eminently | |
adv.突出地;显著地;不寻常地 | |
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