The 35th Street entrance to McQueery's has long been hallowed as our stell-dich-ein. We meet there at one o'clock. That is to say, I arrive at 12:59 and spend fifteen minutes in most animated2 reflection. There is plenty to think about. One may stand between the outer and inner lines of glass doors and watch the queer little creatures that come tumbling out of the cloak and suit factory across the street. Or one may stand inside the store, on a kind of terrace, beneath pineapple shaped arc lights, looking down upon the bustle3 of women on the main floor. Best of all, one may stroll along the ornate gallery to one side where all sorts and conditions of ladies wait for other ladies who have promised to meet them at one o'clock. They divide their time between examining the mahogany victrolae and deciding what kind of sundae they will have for lunch. A very genteel old gentleman with white hair and a long morning coat and an air of perpetual irritation4 is in charge of this social gallery. He wears the queer, soft, flat-soled boots that are suggestive of corns. There is an information bureau there, where one may learn everything except the time one may expect one's wife to arrive. But I have learned a valuable subterfuge5. If I am waiting for Titania, and beginning to despair of her arrival, I have only to go to a telephone to call her up. As soon as I have put the nickel in, she is sure to appear. Nowadays I save the nickel by going into a booth and pretending to telephone. Sure enough, at 1:14, Ingersoll time, in she trots6.
"Eye-polishers?" say I.
"Yes," says Titania, "but there was a block at 42nd Street. I'm so sorry, Grump."
"Eye-polishers" is our term for the Fifth Avenue busses, because riding on them makes Titania's eyes so bright. More widely, the word connotes anything that produces that desirable result, such as bunches of violets, lavender peddlers, tea at Mary Elizabeth's, spring millinery, or finding sixpence in her shoe. This last is a rite8 suggested by the old song:
Yet who doth now for cleanliness
Find sixpence in her shoe?
We always lunch at Moretti's on Saturday: it is the recognized beginning of an adventure. The Moretti lunch has advanced from a quarter to thirty cents, I am sorry to say, but this is readily compensated12 by the Grump buying Sweet Caporals instead of something Turkish. A packet of cigarettes is another curtain-raiser for an adventure. On other days publishers' readers smoke pipes, but on Saturdays cigarettes are possible.
"Antipasto?"
"No, thanks."
"Minestrone or consommé?"
"Two minestrone, two prime ribs13, ice cream and coffee. Red wine, please." That is the formula. We have eaten the "old reliable Moretti lunch" so often that the routine has become a ritual. Oh, excellent savor14 of the Moretti basement! Compounded of warmth, a pungent15 pourri of smells, and the jangle of thick china, how diverting it is! The franc-tireur in charge of the wine-bin watches us complaisantly from his counter where he sits flanked by flasks16 of Hoboken chianti and a case of brittle17 cigars.
How good Moretti's minestrone tastes to the unsophisticated tongue. What though it be only an azoic extract of intense potato, dimly tinct with sargasso and macaroni—it has a pleasing warmth and bulk. Is it not the prelude18 to an Adventure?
Well, where shall we go to-day? No two explorers dickering over azimuth and dead reckoning could discuss latitude19 and longitude20 more earnestly than Titania and I argue our possible courses. Generally, however, she leaves it to me to chart the journey. That gives me the pride of conductor and her the pleasure of being surprised.
According to our Mercator's projection21 (which, duly wrapped in a waterproof22 envelope, we always carry on our adventures) there was a little known region lying nor' nor'west of Blackwell's Island and plotted on the map as East River Park. I had heard of this as a picturesque23 and old-fashioned territory, comparatively free from footpads and lying near such places as Astoria and Hell Gate. We laid a romantic course due east along 35th Street, Titania humming a little snatch from an English music-hall song that once amused us:
"My old man's a fireman
Now what do you think of that?
He wears goblimey breeches
And a little goblimey hat."
She always quotes this to me when (she says) I wear my hat too far on the back of my head.
The cross slope of Murray Hill drops steeply downward after one leaves Madison Avenue. We dipped into a region that has always been very fascinating to me. Under the roaring L, past dingy24 saloons, animal shops, tinsmiths, and painless dentists, past the old dismantled25 Manhattan hospital. The taste of spring was in the air: one of the dentists was having his sign regilded, a huge four-pronged grinder as big as McTeague's in Frank Norris's story. Oysters26 going out, the new brew27 of Bock beer coming in: so do the saloons mark the vernal equinox.
A huge green chalet built on stilts28, with two tiers of trains rumbling29 by, is the L station at 34th Street and Second Avenue. A cutting wind blew from the East River, only two blocks away. I paid two nickels and we got into the front car of the northbound train.
Until Titania and I attain30 the final glory of riding in an aeroplane, or ascend31 Jacob's ladder, there never will be anything so thrilling as soaring over the housetops in the Second Avenue L. Rocking, racketing, roaring over those crazy trestles, now a glimpse of the leaden river to the east, now a peep of church spires32 and skyscrapers33 on the west, and the dingy imitation lace curtains of the third-story windows flashing by like a recurring34 pattern—it is a voyage of romance! Did you ever stand at the front door of an Elevated train, watching the track stretch far ahead toward the Bronx, and the little green stations slipping nearer and nearer? The Subway is a black, bellowing35 horror; the bus a swaying, jolty36 start-and-stop, bruising37 your knees against the seat in front; but the L swings you up and over the housetops, smooth and sheer and swift.
We descended38 at 86th Street and found ourselves in a new world. A broad, dingy street, lined by shabby brown houses and pushbutton apartments, led in a gentle descent toward the river. The neighbourhood was noisy, quarrelsome, and dirty. After a long, bitter March the thaw39 had come at last: the street was viscous40 with slime, the melting snow lay in grayish piles along the curbs41. Small boys on each side of the Street were pelting42 sodden43 snowballs which spattered around us as we walked down the pavement.
But after two blocks things changed suddenly. The trolley44 swung round at a right angle (up Avenue A) and the last block of 86th Street showed the benefit of this manoeuvre45. The houses grew neat and respectable. A little side street branching off to the left (not recorded by Mercator) revealed some quaint46 cottages with gables and shuttered windows so mid-Victorian that my literary heart leaped and I dreamed at once of locating a novel in this fascinating spot. And then we rounded the corner and saw the little park.
It was a bit of old Chelsea, nothing less. Titania clapped her hands, and I lit my pipe in gratification. Beside us was a row of little houses of warm red brick with peaked mansard roofs and cozy47 bay windows and polished door knockers. In front of them was the lumpy little park, cut up into irregular hills, where children were flying kites. And beyond that, an embankment and the river in a dim wet mist. There was Blackwell's Island, and a sailing barge48 slipping by. In the distance we could see the colossal49 span of the new Hell Gate bridge. With the journalist's instinct for superlatives I told Titania it was the largest single span in the world. I wonder if it is?
As to that I know not. But it was the river that lured50 us. On the embankment we found benches and sat down to admire the scene. It was as picturesque as Battersea in Whistler's mistiest51 days. A ferryboat, crossing to Astoria, hooted52 musically through the haze53. Tugs54, puffing55 up past Blackwell's Island into the Harlem River, replied with mellow56 blasts. The pungent tang of the East River tickled57 our nostrils58, and all my old ambition to be a tugboat captain returned.
And then trouble began. Just as I was planning how we might bilk our landlord on Long Island and move all our belongings59 to this delicious spot, gradually draw our friends around us, and make East End Avenue the Cheyne Walk of New York—we might even import an English imagist poet to lend cachet to the coterie—I saw by Titania's face that something was wrong.
I pressed her for the reason of her frown.
She thought the region was unhealthy.
Now when Titania thinks that a place is unhealthy no further argument is possible. Just on what data she bases these deductions60 I have never been able to learn. I think she can tell by the shape of the houses, or the lush quality of the foliage61, or the fact that the garbage men collect from the front instead of from the back. But however she arrives at the conclusion, it is immutable62.
Any place that I think is peculiarly amusing, or quaint, or picturesque, Titania thinks is unhealthy.
Sometimes I can see it coming. We are on our way to Mulberry Bend, or the Bowery, or Farrish's Chop House. I see her brow begin to pucker63. "Do you feel as though it is going to be unhealthy?" I ask anxiously. If she does, there is nothing for it but to clutch at the nearest subway station and hurry up to Grant's Tomb. In that bracing64 ether her spirits revive.
So it was on this afternoon. My Utopian vision of a Chelsea in New York, outdoing the grimy salons65 of Greenwich Village, fell in splinters at the bottom of my mind. Sadly I looked upon the old Carl Schurz mansion66 on the hill, and we departed for the airy plateaus of Central Park. Desperately67 I pointed68 to the fading charms of East River Park—the convent round the corner, the hokey pokey cart by the curbstone.
I shall never be a tugboat captain. It isn't healthy.
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1
tract
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| n.传单，小册子，大片(土地或森林) | |
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animated
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| adj.生气勃勃的，活跃的，愉快的 | |
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bustle
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| v.喧扰地忙乱，匆忙，奔忙；n.忙碌；喧闹 | |
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irritation
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| n.激怒，恼怒，生气 | |
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subterfuge
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| n.诡计；藉口 | |
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trots
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| 小跑，急走( trot的名词复数 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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jargon
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| n.术语，行话 | |
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rite
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| n.典礼，惯例，习俗 | |
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hearths
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| 壁炉前的地板，炉床，壁炉边( hearth的名词复数 ) | |
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wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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dune
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| n.(由风吹积而成的)沙丘 | |
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compensated
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| 补偿，报酬( compensate的过去式和过去分词 )； 给（某人）赔偿（或赔款） | |
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ribs
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| n.肋骨( rib的名词复数 )；（船或屋顶等的）肋拱；肋骨状的东西；（织物的）凸条花纹 | |
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savor
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| vt.品尝，欣赏；n.味道，风味；情趣，趣味 | |
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pungent
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| adj.（气味、味道）刺激性的，辛辣的；尖锐的 | |
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flasks
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| n.瓶，长颈瓶， 烧瓶( flask的名词复数 ) | |
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brittle
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| adj.易碎的；脆弱的；冷淡的；(声音)尖利的 | |
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18
prelude
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| n.序言，前兆，序曲 | |
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latitude
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| n.纬度，行动或言论的自由(范围)，(pl.)地区 | |
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longitude
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| n.经线，经度 | |
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projection
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| n.发射，计划，突出部分 | |
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waterproof
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| n.防水材料；adj.防水的；v.使...能防水 | |
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23
picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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dingy
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| adj.昏暗的，肮脏的 | |
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25
dismantled
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| 拆开( dismantle的过去式和过去分词 )； 拆卸； 废除； 取消 | |
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26
oysters
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| 牡蛎( oyster的名词复数 ) | |
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27
brew
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| v.酿造，调制 | |
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28
stilts
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| n.（支撑建筑物高出地面或水面的）桩子，支柱( stilt的名词复数 )；高跷 | |
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29
rumbling
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| n. 隆隆声, 辘辘声 adj. 隆隆响的 动词rumble的现在分词 | |
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attain
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| vt.达到，获得，完成 | |
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ascend
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| vi.渐渐上升，升高；vt.攀登，登上 | |
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32
spires
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| n.（教堂的） 塔尖，尖顶( spire的名词复数 ) | |
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33
skyscrapers
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| n.摩天大楼 | |
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34
recurring
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| adj.往复的，再次发生的 | |
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35
bellowing
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| v.发出吼叫声，咆哮（尤指因痛苦）( bellow的现在分词 )；（愤怒地）说出（某事），大叫 | |
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jolty
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| 摇动的，颠簸的 | |
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bruising
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| adj.殊死的；十分激烈的v.擦伤(bruise的现在分词形式) | |
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38
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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thaw
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| v.（使）融化，（使）变得友善；n.融化，缓和 | |
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viscous
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| adj.粘滞的，粘性的 | |
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41
curbs
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| v.限制，克制，抑制( curb的第三人称单数 ) | |
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pelting
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| 微不足道的，无价值的，盛怒的 | |
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sodden
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| adj.浑身湿透的；v.使浸透；使呆头呆脑 | |
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44
trolley
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| n.手推车，台车；无轨电车；有轨电车 | |
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45
manoeuvre
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| n.策略，调动；v.用策略，调动 | |
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46
quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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cozy
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| adj.亲如手足的，密切的，暖和舒服的 | |
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48
barge
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| n.平底载货船，驳船 | |
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49
colossal
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| adj.异常的，庞大的 | |
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50
lured
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| 吸引，引诱（lure的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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51
mistiest
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| misty（多雾的，被雾笼罩的）的最高级形式 | |
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52
hooted
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| （使）作汽笛声响，作汽车喇叭声( hoot的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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53
haze
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| n.霾，烟雾；懵懂，迷糊；vi.(over)变模糊 | |
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54
tugs
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| n.猛拉( tug的名词复数 )；猛拖；拖船v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的第三人称单数 ) | |
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55
puffing
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| v.使喷出( puff的现在分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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56
mellow
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| adj.柔和的；熟透的；v.变柔和；(使)成熟 | |
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57
tickled
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| （使）发痒( tickle的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）愉快，逗乐 | |
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nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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59
belongings
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| n.私人物品，私人财物 | |
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60
deductions
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| 扣除( deduction的名词复数 )； 结论； 扣除的量； 推演 | |
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61
foliage
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| n.叶子，树叶，簇叶 | |
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62
immutable
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| adj.不可改变的，永恒的 | |
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63
pucker
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| v.撅起，使起皱；n.（衣服上的）皱纹，褶子 | |
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64
bracing
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| adj.令人振奋的 | |
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65
salons
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| n.（营业性质的）店( salon的名词复数 )；厅；沙龙（旧时在上流社会女主人家的例行聚会或聚会场所）；（大宅中的）客厅 | |
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66
mansion
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| n.大厦，大楼；宅第 | |
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67
desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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