It is a curious and interesting fact that Christmas-tide seemed to have a peculiar1 influence on the prospects2 of our hero Jack3 Matterby all through his life. All the chief events of his career, somehow, happened on or about Christmas Day.
Jack was born, to begin with, on a Christmas morning. His father, who was a farmer in the middle ranks of life, rejoiced in the fact, esteeming4 it full of promise for the future. So did his mother. Jack himself did not at first seem to have any particular feeling on the subject. If one might judge his opinions by his conduct, it seemed that he was rather displeased5 than otherwise at having been born; for he spent all the first part of his natal6 day in squalling and making faces, as though he did not like the world at all, and would rather not have come into it.
“John, dear,” said his mother to his father, one day not long after his birth, “I’m so glad he is a boy. He might have been a girl, you know.”
“No, Molly; he could never have been a girl!” replied the husband, as he gently patted his wife’s shoulder.
“Now, don’t laugh at me, John, dear. You know what I mean. But what shall we call him?”
“John, of course,” replied the farmer, with decision. “My father was called John, and his father was called John, and also his grandfather, and so on back, I have no doubt, to the very beginning of time.”
“Nay, John,” returned his wife, simply, “that could hardly be; for however many of your ancestors may have been Johns, the first, you know, was Adam.”
“Why, Molly, you’re getting to be quite sharp,” returned the farmer. “Nevertheless this little man is to be John, like the rest of us.”
Mrs Matterby, being meek7, gave in; but she did so with a sigh, for she wished the little one to be named Joseph, after her own deceased father.
Thus it came to pass that the child was named John. The name was expanded to Johnny during the first period of childhood. Afterwards it was contracted to Jack, and did not attain8 to the simple grandeur9 of John till the owner of it became a man.
In the Johnny period of life our hero confined his attention almost exclusively to smashing and overturning. To overturn and to destroy were his chief amusements. He made war on crockery to such an extent that tea-cups and saucers were usually scarce in the family. He assaulted looking-glasses so constantly, that there was, ere long, barely enough of mirror left for his father to shave in. As to which fact the farmer used to say, “Never mind, Molly. Don’t look so down-hearted, lass. If he only leaves a bit enough to see a corner of my chin and the half of my razor, that will do well enough.” No window in the family mansion10 was thoroughly11 whole, and the appearance of a fat little fist on the wrong side of a pane12 of glass was quite a familiar object in the nursery.
As for toys—Johnny had none, so to speak. He had only a large basket full of bits, the misapplication of which to each other gave him many hours of profound recreation. Everything that would turn inside out was so turned. Whatever was by nature straight he bent13, whatever bent he straightened. Round things he made square when possible, and square things round; soft things hard, and hard things soft. In short, nothing was too hard for Johnny. Everything that came into his clutches was subjected to what we may style the influence of experimental philosophy; and if Farmer Matterby had been a poor man he must soon have been ruined, but, being what is styled “well-to-do,” he only said, in reference to these things—
“Go ahead, my boy. Make hay while the sun shines. If you carry on as you’ve begun, you’ll make your mark somewhere in this world.”
“Alas!” remarked poor Mrs Matterby, “he has made his mark already everywhere, and that a little too freely!”
Nevertheless she was proud of her boy, and sought to subdue14 his spirit by teaching him lessons of self-denial and love out of the Word of God. Johnny listened intently to these lessons, gazing with large wondering eyes, though he understood little of the teaching at first. It was not all lost on him, however; and he thoroughly understood and reciprocated15 the deep love that beamed in his mother’s eyes.
Soon after Johnny had slid into the Jack period of life he became acquainted with a fisher-boy of his own age, whose parents dwelt in a cottage on the sea-shore, not a quarter of a mile from his own home, and close to the village of Blackby.
Natty16 Grove17 was as fine a little fellow as one could wish to see: fair, curly-headed, blue-eyed, rough-jacketed, and almost swallowed up in a pair of his father’s sea-boots which had been cut down in the legs to fit him. As to the feet!—well, as his father Ned Grove remarked, there was plenty of room for growth. Natty had no mother, but he had a little sister about three years of age, and a grandmother, who might have been about thirty times three. No one could tell her age for certain; but she was so old and wrinkled and dried up and withered18 and small, that she might certainly have claimed to be “the oldest inhabitant.” She had been bed-ridden for many years because of what her son called rum-matticks and her grandson styled rum-ticks.
The name of Natty’s little sister was Nellie; that of his grandmother, Nell—old Nell, as people affectionately called her.
Now it may perhaps surprise the reader to be told that Jack Matterby, at the age of nine years, was deeply in love. He had, indeed, been in that condition, more or less from the age of three, but the passion became more decided19 at nine. He was in love with Nell—not blue-eyed little Nellie, but with wrinkled old Nell; for that antiquated20 creature was brimming over with love to mankind, specially21 to children. On our hero she poured out such wealth of affection that he was powerfully attracted to her even in the period of Johnny-hood, and, as we have said, she captured him entirely22 when he reached Jack-hood.
Old Nell was a splendid story-teller. That was one of the baits with which she was fond of hooking young people. It was interesting to sit in the fisherman’s poor cottage and watch the little ones sitting open-mouthed and eyed gazing at the withered little face, in which loving-kindness, mingling23 with fun, beamed from the old eyes, played among the wrinkles, smiled on the lips, and asserted itself in the gentle tones.
“Jack,” said Mrs Matterby, on the Christmas morning which ushered24 in her boy’s ninth birthday, “come, I’m going to give you a treat to-day.”
“You always do, mammy, on my birthdays,” said Jack.
“I want you to go with a message to a poor woman,” continued the mother.
“Is that all?” exclaimed Jack, with a disappointed look.
“Yes, that’s all—or nearly all,” replied his mother, with a twinkle in her eye, however, which kept her son from open rebellion. “I want you to carry this basket of good things, with my best love and Christmas good-wishes, to old Nell Grove.”
“Oho!” exclaimed Jack, brightening up at once, “I’m your man; here, give me the basket. But, mother,” he added with a sudden look of perplexity, “you called old Nell a poor woman, and I’ve heard her sometimes say that she has everything that she needs and more than she deserves! She can’t be poor if that’s true, and it must be true; for you know that old Nell never, never tells lies.”
“True, Jack; old Nell is not poor in one sense: she is rich in faith. She has got ‘contentment with godliness,’ and many rich people have not got that. Nevertheless she has none too much of the necessaries of this life, and none at all of the luxuries, so that she is what people usually call poor.”
“That’s a puzzler, mammy—poor and rich both!”
“I daresay it is a puzzler,” replied Mrs Matterby, with a laugh, “but be off with your basket and message, my son; some day you shall understand it better.”
Pondering deeply on this “puzzler,” the boy went off on his mission, trudging25 through the deep snow which whitened the earth and brightened that Christmas morning.
“She’s as merry as a cricket to-day,” said Natty Grove, who opened the cottage door when his friend knocked.
“Yes, as ’erry as a kiket,” echoed flaxen-haired Nellie, who stood beside him.
“She’s always ’erry,” said Jack, giving the little girl a gentle pull of the nose by way of expressing good will. “A merry Christmas both! How are you? See here, what mother has sent to old Nell.”
He opened the lid of the basket. Nattie and Nellie peeped in and snuffed.
“Oh! I say!” said the fisher-boy. He could say no more, for the sight and scent26 of apples, jelly, roast fowl27, home-made pastry28, and other things was almost too much for him.
“I expected it, dearie,” said old Nell, extending her withered hand to the boy as he set the basket on the table. “Every Christmas morning, for years gone by, she has sent me the same, though I don’t deserve it, and I’ve no claim on her but helplessness. But it’s the first time she has sent it by you, Jack. Come, I’ll tell ye a story.”
Jack was already open-eyed with expectancy29 and he was soon open-mouthed, forgetful of past and future, absorbed entirely in the present. Natty and Nelly were similarly affected30 and like-minded, while the little old woman swept them away to the wilds of Siberia and told them of an escape from unjust banishment31, of wanderings in the icy wilderness32, and of starvation so dire33 that the fugitives34 were reduced to gnawing35 and sucking the leathern covers of their wallets for dear life. Then she told of food sent at the last moment, almost by miracle, and of hair-breadth escapes, and final deliverance. Somehow—the listeners could not have told how—old Nell inserted a reference to the real miracle of Jesus feeding the five thousand, and she worked round to it so deftly36, that it seemed an essential part of the story; and so indeed it was, for Nell intended the key-stone of the arch of her story to be the fact that when man is reduced to the last extremity37 God steps in to save.
It is certain that little Nellie did not understand the moral of the story, and it is uncertain how far the boys appreciated it; but it was old Nell’s business to sow the seed beside all waters, and leave the rest to Him who gave the command.
“Yes, dearies,” she said in conclusion, laying her hand on the basket, “I expected this gift this morning; but many a time does our Father in heaven send a blessin’ when an’ where we don’t expect it. Mind that—mind ye that.”
Jack had more than enough of mental food to digest that morning as he retraced38 his steps homeward through the deep snow; for he found that old Nell, not less than his mother, had treated him to a few puzzlers. Poor boy, he little knew as he plodded39 on that he was that day about to enter into one of the darkest clouds of his young life.
During his absence a letter had been received by his father, intimating that through the failure of a bank he was a ruined man. The shock had paralysed the farmer, and when Jack entered his home he found him lying on his bed in a state of insensibility from which he could not be rallied. A few days later the old man died.
Farmer Matterby’s widow had few relatives, and none of these were in circumstances to help her in the day of trial. They and her numerous friends did indeed what they could. Besides offering sincere sympathy, they subscribed40 and raised a small sum to enable the bereaved41 woman and her only child to tide over present difficulties, but they could not enable her to continue to work the farm, and as most of her late husband’s kindred had migrated to Canada, she had no one from whom she could naturally claim counsel or aid. She was therefore thrown entirely on God; and it was with strange and solemn feelings that Jack kneeled by her side, and heard her pray in tones of anguish42 for help, light, and guidance, and especially that, whatever might become of herself, her dear boy might be preserved from evil and guided in ways of righteousness.
A few months later, and the widow, gathering43 the small remnant of her possessions together, set off with her little boy to seek employment in London. How many poor souls, in various ranks of life, must have turned their steps, in days gone by, towards that giant city in the sanguine44 hope of bettering their condition! Mrs Matterby had no friends to whom she could go in London; but she could paint and draw and sing, and was fairly educated. She would teach. In the meantime she had a little money to start with. Entertaining a suspicion that it might be considered a wildish scheme by her friends and neighbours, she resolved to say nothing about her plans to any one, save that she was going to London for a time.
It was a touching45 scene, the parting of Jack and the Grove family. The sturdy fisherman was at sea at the time, but old Nell was in her accustomed corner in the lowly bed with the ragged46 counterpane, where her uneventful yet happy life was spent; and little curly-headed Nellie was there, playing with the cat; and Natty was there, cutting out a first-rate man of war with a huge knife.
“Granny,” (Jack always called her “granny” like the rest), “granny, I’ve come to say good-bye. I am going away f–f–for ever an’ ever!”
“Amen!” responded Natty, from the mere47 force of habit, for he was a constant responder at granny’s family worship.
“Ye don’t know that, darlin’,” replied old Nell. “The Lord leads us in ways that we know not, an’ it may be His good pleasure to bring you here again.”
“N–no; I’m quite sure I’ll never see you again,” returned the boy, giving way to the sobs48 which he could not restrain. “M–mother says we will never come back again,—n–never, never more—”
He broke down entirely at this point, and a few silent tears trickled49 over the kind old face of Nell. Natty was too much of a man to give way out and out, but he snivelled a little in spite of himself. As for Nellie, she stood there in open-eyed wonder, for she failed to quite understand the situation. We will not prolong the painful scene. When at length Jack had taken leave of them all—had kissed the two Nells and shaken hands with Natty—the younger Nell seemed to realise the facts of the case; for Jack saw her, as he glanced back for the last time, suddenly shut her large blue eyes, throw back her curly little head, open wide her pretty little mouth, and howl miserably50.
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1
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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2
prospects
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| n.希望，前途(恒为复数) | |
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3
jack
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| n.插座，千斤顶，男人；v.抬起，提醒，扛举；n.（Jake）杰克 | |
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4
esteeming
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| v.尊敬( esteem的现在分词 )；敬重；认为；以为 | |
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displeased
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| a.不快的 | |
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natal
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| adj.出生的，先天的 | |
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meek
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| adj.温顺的，逆来顺受的 | |
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8
attain
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| vt.达到，获得，完成 | |
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grandeur
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| n.伟大，崇高，宏伟，庄严，豪华 | |
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mansion
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| n.大厦，大楼；宅第 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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12
pane
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| n.窗格玻璃，长方块 | |
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13
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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14
subdue
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| vt.制服，使顺从，征服；抑制，克制 | |
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15
reciprocated
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| v.报答，酬答( reciprocate的过去式和过去分词 )；（机器的部件）直线往复运动 | |
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natty
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| adj.整洁的，漂亮的 | |
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grove
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| n.林子，小树林，园林 | |
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18
withered
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| adj. 枯萎的，干瘪的，（人身体的部分器官）因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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antiquated
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| adj.陈旧的，过时的 | |
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specially
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| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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23
mingling
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| adj.混合的 | |
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24
ushered
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| v.引，领，陪同( usher的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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25
trudging
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| vt.& vi.跋涉，吃力地走（trudge的现在分词形式） | |
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scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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fowl
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| n.家禽，鸡，禽肉 | |
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28
pastry
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| n.油酥面团，酥皮糕点 | |
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29
expectancy
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| n.期望，预期，（根据概率统计求得）预期数额 | |
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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31
banishment
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| n.放逐，驱逐 | |
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32
wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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33
dire
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| adj.可怕的，悲惨的，阴惨的，极端的 | |
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fugitives
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| n.亡命者，逃命者( fugitive的名词复数 ) | |
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35
gnawing
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| a.痛苦的，折磨人的 | |
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deftly
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| adv.灵巧地，熟练地，敏捷地 | |
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extremity
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| n.末端，尽头；尽力；终极；极度 | |
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retraced
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| v.折回( retrace的过去式和过去分词 )；回忆；回顾；追溯 | |
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39
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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40
subscribed
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| v.捐助( subscribe的过去式和过去分词 )；签署，题词；订阅；同意 | |
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41
bereaved
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| adj.刚刚丧失亲人的v.使失去（希望、生命等）( bereave的过去式和过去分词)；（尤指死亡）使丧失（亲人、朋友等）；使孤寂；抢走（财物） | |
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42
anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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43
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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44
sanguine
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| adj.充满希望的，乐观的，血红色的 | |
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45
touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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46
ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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47
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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48
sobs
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| 啜泣（声），呜咽（声）( sob的名词复数 ) | |
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49
trickled
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| v.滴( trickle的过去式和过去分词 )；淌；使)慢慢走；缓慢移动 | |
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50
miserably
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| adv.痛苦地；悲惨地；糟糕地；极度地 | |
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