A little boy, a friend of my parents, was sent down to nurse's to gain strength by a first-hand acquaintance with cows' milk and the life of the fields. Louie was an exciting friend. He had the queerest face in the world, like that of an old and wrinkled baby's, for mouth a comical slit1, and two twinkling grey eyes as small as a pig's. His hair was white, and he grinned from morning till night, so that, like the Cheshire cat, he rises before me an eternal grin.
He taught me a delightful2 accomplishment3, which afforded me entertainment for several months—the repetition of nursery rhymes. He possessed4 a book of this fanciful literature, and his private store as well was inexhaustible.
We spent a day of misery5 together once because he could not remember the end of one that began—
"There was an old man who supposed
The street door was partially6 closed."
For nights I dreamed of that old man, and wondered and wondered what happened because of his error about the street door. I beheld7 him, grey-haired, with a nightcap on his hair, with a dressing-gown wrapped round him and held in front by one hand, while the other grasped a candle, and the old man looked fearfully over his shoulder at the door. I must have seen something to suggest this clear picture, but I cannot tell what it was.
Sometimes his face underwent all sorts of transformations8, resembled in turn every animal I had ever seen and several new monsters I was unacquainted with. The eyes changed places with the mouth and the ears distorted themselves into noses. Before I had done with him, he had become quite a wonderful old man.
Our great amusement was to repeat the rhymes in a way of our own invention, taking turns to be chief and echo. This was how we did it:[Pg 35]—
Louie. "There was an old man of the
Angela. Hague
Louie. Whose ideas were extremely
Angela. vague.
Louie. He built a
Angela. balloon
Louie. To examine the
Angela. moon,
Louie. This curious old man of the
Angela. Hague."
My passionate9 admiration10 of the courage of the young lady of Norway made me always insist on taking the principal part when it came to her turn. The neighbors used to drop in of an evening, and add the enthusiasm of an audience to our own. They were specially11 proud of me as almost native-grown, and my eagerness to show off the attractions of the young lady of Norway generally resulted in my suppressing Louie's final rhyme. This was what we made of it:—
Angela. "There was a young lady of
Louie. Norway
Angela. Who occasionally sat in the
Louie. doorway12;
Angela. When the door squeezed her
Louie. flat,
Angela. She exclaimed, 'What of
Louie. that?'
Angela. This courageous13 young lady of
Louie. Norway."
Poor Louie, I learnt years afterwards, went to the dogs, and was despatched to the Colonies by an irate15 father. He was last heard of as a music-hall star at Sydney.
What sends bright and laughing children forth16 to a life of shame? Louie was the kindest little comrade on earth, unselfish, devoted17, and of a tenderness only surpassed by my nurse's. Was this not proved when I began to droop18 and pine, missing the picture of Stevie kneeling on his sofa and staring out of the window?
I cannot say how long after Stevie's death it was before this want broke out as a fell disease. I worried everybody about the absence of that tragic19 face, and plied20 nurse with unanswerable questions. Neither Mary Jane nor the brindled21 cat, not even the applewoman and her tempting22 trays, nor the pond, nor my new terrier-pup that often washed my face, had power to comfort me.
I went about disconsolate23, and was glad of a listener to whom it was all fresh, to discourse24 upon heaven and the queer means that were taken to despatch14 little children thither—an ugly box, when wings would be so much prettier.
Louie listened to me as I, with a burning cheek, told the roll of my sorrows and unfolded[Pg 37] my ideas of the mysteries that surrounded me. Louie was not an intelligent listener, but he made up for his deficiency by an exquisite25 sense of comradeship. He would hold my hand and protest in the loudest voice that it was a shame, the while I suspect his mind ran on those nursery rhymes. But he loved me, there can be no doubt of that. I think he meant to marry me when we grew up.
I know when illness and a dreadful cough overtook me, he would let me lie on the floor with my head in his lap, while the exertion26 of coughing drew blood from my ears and nose. This too, he cried, was an awful shame.
I once saw him watch me through a convulsion with tears in his eyes, and I was immediately thrilled with the satisfaction of being so interesting and so deeply commiserated27. It filled me with the same artistic28 emotion that followed my appreciation29 of the melancholy30 of my wordless singing.
Deep down in the heart of childhood—even bitterly suffering childhood—is this dramatic element, this love of sensation, this vanity of artist. So much of childhood is, after all, make-believe, unconscious acting31. We are ill, and we cannot help noting the effect of our illness upon[Pg 38] others. The amount of sympathy we evoke32 in grown-up people is the best evidence of our success as experimental artists with life. Even when we cower33 under a bed to weep away from our kind, we secretly hope that God or our guardian34 angel is watching us and feeling intensely sorry for us; and our finest conception of punishment of cruel elders is their finding us unexpectedly dead, and their being consumed with remorse35 for their flagrant injustice36 to such virtue37 as ours.
Who can limit the part as admiring audience a child condemns38 his guardian angel to play? For him, when humanity is cold and unobservant—as humanity too often is in the eyes of childhood—does he so gallantly39 play the martyr40, the hero, the sufferer in proud silence. For his admiration did a little sister of mine once put her hand in the fire. She thought it was heroic, like the early Christians41, and hoped her guardian angel would applaud, while common elders shouted in angry alarm.
Ah, never prate42 so idly of the artlessness and the guilelessness of children. They are as full of vanity and innocent guile43 and all the arts and graces as the puppies and kittens we adore.
How much, for instance, had the hope of[Pg 39] praise and admiration to do with Louie's magnanimous kindness in that affair of the gipsies? I lay ill and exhausted44 from coughing on the sofa when he rushed in, panting with eagerness, to tell me that the gipsies had arrived over-night and were camped on the green, where they had a merry-go-round. I had never seen a gipsy, but Mary Jane had, and she often told me the most surprising things about them—how dark they were, how queerly they spoke45, and how romantic they looked, like strange people in story-books. Of course I pined to see them, and the thought that I was chained to my sofa, when outside the world was all agog46, and rapture47 awaited happier children upon the green, filled my eyes with tears.
I turned my face to the wall and wept bitterly. My heart was heavy with the sombre hate of Cain, and when I looked gloweringly48 at the blest little Abel by my side, he looked quite as miserable49 as my evil, envious50 heart could desire. His comic face underwent a variety of contortions51 before finally he made up his mind to blurt52 out an offer to forego the pleasures of the green, and stay with me.
But I was not a selfish child, and generosity53 always spurred me to emulation54. Besides, I was[Pg 40] already greatly comforted by the extent of Louie's sympathy, so I ordered him off to see the gipsies, and come back and tell me what a merry-go-round was like.
Still I did not mend, in spite of all nurse's care and tenderness, and it was decided55 to remove me to town. This was the decision of my stepfather, who was probably nervous since Stevie had dropped out of life in that quick and quiet way.
How well I remember the last day among all my dear friends! Mary Jane, Louie, and I, hand in hand, walked about all our favourite spots. The applewoman gave me an entire trayful of crab-apples, and wished I might come back with my rosy56 cheeks. I asked her to kiss me, and then she thrust a bun into my hand, and said huskily, "God bless you, my little lady!"
We went across to Mary Jane's, and I had a conviction that my heart was broken. I was going away into the land of the ogres and witches, and though I should probably be happy at last, since all things come right in children's tales, vague terror held me at the prospect57 of the unknown trials that awaited me. Mary Jane's mamma gave me raspberry vinegar and my tears mingled58 with the syrup59. I asked to be let look[Pg 41] once more at the views of New York, and then asked her if she would feel very sorry at my death.
They were still consoling me, and I was sobbing60 wildly in the arms of Mary Jane's mamma, while Louie relieved his stricken soul by protesting repeatedly that "it was an awful shame," when nurse and Jim Cochrane, in his Sunday clothes, came to carry me off to the car. All the village flocked to see me off, and breathed cordial love and benediction61 upon my departure.
Kindly62 Irish peasants, with their pretty speech and pretty manners! Is there any other race whose common people can throw such warmth and natural grace into greetings and farewell? Big-hearted, foolish, emotional children, upon whose sympathetic faces, at their ugliest, still play the smiles and frowns, the lights and shadows of expressive63 and variable childhood. How they cheered and soothed64 me with their kind words, their little gifts, their packages of comfits and posies, a blue-and-white mug with somebody else's name in gilt65 letters upon it, and a tiny plate with a dog in a circle of fascinating white knobs.
This was the end of my brief sovereignty. Though of those old associations, for which I[Pg 42] was destined66 to yearn67 so passionately68 many a year, memory may have become so dim as to leave only a trace of blurred69 silhouettes70 upon an indistinct background emerging from a haze71 of multiplied experience, I like to think that I owe to that bright start the humour and courage that have served to help me through a clouded life.
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1
slit
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| n.狭长的切口；裂缝；vt.切开，撕裂 | |
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2
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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3
accomplishment
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| n.完成，成就，（pl.）造诣，技能 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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5
misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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partially
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| adv.部分地，从某些方面讲 | |
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beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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8
transformations
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| n.变化( transformation的名词复数 )；转换；转换；变换 | |
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9
passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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10
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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specially
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| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
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12
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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13
courageous
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| adj.勇敢的，有胆量的 | |
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14
despatch
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| n./v.(dispatch)派遣；发送；n.急件；新闻报道 | |
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15
irate
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| adj.发怒的，生气 | |
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16
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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17
devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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18
droop
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| v.低垂，下垂；凋萎，萎靡 | |
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19
tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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20
plied
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| v.使用（工具）( ply的过去式和过去分词 )；经常供应（食物、饮料）；固定往来；经营生意 | |
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21
brindled
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| adj.有斑纹的 | |
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22
tempting
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| a.诱人的, 吸引人的 | |
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23
disconsolate
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| adj.忧郁的，不快的 | |
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24
discourse
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| n.论文，演说；谈话；话语；vi.讲述，著述 | |
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25
exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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26
exertion
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| n.尽力，努力 | |
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27
commiserated
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| v.怜悯，同情( commiserate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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28
artistic
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| adj.艺术(家)的，美术(家)的；善于艺术创作的 | |
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29
appreciation
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| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
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30
melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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31
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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32
evoke
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| vt.唤起，引起，使人想起 | |
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33
cower
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| v.畏缩，退缩，抖缩 | |
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34
guardian
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| n.监护人；守卫者，保护者 | |
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35
remorse
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| n.痛恨，悔恨，自责 | |
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36
injustice
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| n.非正义，不公正，不公平，侵犯（别人的）权利 | |
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37
virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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38
condemns
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| v.（通常因道义上的原因而）谴责( condemn的第三人称单数 )；宣判；宣布…不能使用；迫使…陷于不幸的境地 | |
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39
gallantly
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| adv. 漂亮地，勇敢地，献殷勤地 | |
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40
martyr
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| n.烈士，殉难者；vt.杀害，折磨，牺牲 | |
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41
Christians
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| n.基督教徒( Christian的名词复数 ) | |
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42
prate
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| v.瞎扯，胡说 | |
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43
guile
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| n.诈术 | |
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44
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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45
spoke
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| 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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46
agog
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| adj.兴奋的，有强烈兴趣的； adv.渴望地 | |
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47
rapture
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| n.狂喜；全神贯注；着迷；v.使狂喜 | |
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48
gloweringly
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| adv.glower（沉着脸，怒视，凝视；皱眉，怒视，怒容；皱眉头）的变形 | |
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49
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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50
envious
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| adj.嫉妒的，羡慕的 | |
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51
contortions
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| n.扭歪，弯曲；扭曲，弄歪，歪曲( contortion的名词复数 ) | |
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52
blurt
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| vt.突然说出，脱口说出 | |
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53
generosity
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| n.大度，慷慨，慷慨的行为 | |
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54
emulation
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| n.竞争；仿效 | |
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55
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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56
rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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58
mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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59
syrup
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| n.糖浆，糖水 | |
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60
sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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61
benediction
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| n.祝福；恩赐 | |
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62
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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expressive
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| adj.表现的，表达…的，富于表情的 | |
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64
soothed
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| v.安慰( soothe的过去式和过去分词 )；抚慰；使舒服；减轻痛苦 | |
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65
gilt
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| adj.镀金的；n.金边证券 | |
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66
destined
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| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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yearn
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| v.想念；怀念；渴望 | |
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68
passionately
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| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
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69
blurred
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| v.（使）变模糊( blur的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）难以区分；模模糊糊；迷离 | |
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70
silhouettes
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| 轮廓( silhouette的名词复数 )； （人的）体形； （事物的）形状； 剪影 | |
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haze
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| n.霾，烟雾；懵懂，迷糊；vi.(over)变模糊 | |
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