But I do not think his early education was neglected. And yet it is easy to underestimate the influences that, unconsciously to him, were expanding his mind and nursing in him heroic purposes. There was the lovely but narrow valley, with its rapid mountain stream; there were the great hills which he climbed only to see other hills stretching away to a broken and tempting3 [Pg 165] horizon; there were the rocky pastures, and the wide sweeps of forest through which the winter tempests howled, upon which hung the haze4 of summer heat, over which the great shadows of summer clouds traveled; there were the clouds themselves, shouldering up above the peaks, hurrying across the narrow sky,—the clouds out of which the wind came, and the lightning and the sudden dashes of rain; and there were days when the sky was ineffably5 blue and distant, a fathomless6 vault7 of heaven where the hen-hawk and the eagle poised8 on outstretched wings and watched for their prey9. Can you say how these things fed the imagination of the boy, who had few books and no contact with the great world? Do you think any city lad could have written "Thanatopsis" at eighteen?
SLIPPERY WORK
If you had seen John, in his short and roomy trousers and ill-used straw hat, picking his barefooted way over the rocks along the river-bank of a cool morning to see if an eel10 had "got on," you would not have fancied that he lived in an ideal world. [Pg 166] Nor did he consciously. So far as he knew, he had no more sentiment than a jack-knife. Although he loved Cynthia Rudd devotedly11, and blushed scarlet12 one day when his cousin found a lock of Cynthia's flaming hair in the box where John kept his fish-hooks, spruce gum, flag-root, tickets of standing13 at the head, gimlet, billets-doux in blue ink, a vile14 liquid in a bottle to make fish bite, and other precious possessions, yet Cynthia's society had no attractions for him comparable to a day's trout15-fishing. She was, after all, only a single and a very undefined item in his general ideal world, and there was no harm in letting his imagination play about her illumined head. Since Cynthia had "got religion" and John had got nothing, his love was tempered with a little awe16 and a feeling of distance. He was not fickle17, and yet I cannot say that he was not ready to construct a new romance in which Cynthia should be eliminated. Nothing was easier. Perhaps it was a luxurious18 traveling-carriage, drawn19 by two splendid horses in plated harness, driven along the sandy road. There were [Pg 167] a gentleman and a young lad on the front seat, and on the back seat a handsome, pale lady with a little girl beside her. Behind, on the rack with the trunk, was a colored boy, an imp1 out of a story-book. John was told that the black boy was a slave, and that the carriage was from Baltimore. Here was a chance for a romance. Slavery, beauty, wealth, haughtiness20, especially on the part of the slender boy on the front seat,—here was an opening into a vast realm. The high-stepping horses and the shining harness were enough to excite John's admiration21, but these were nothing to the little girl. His eyes had never before fallen upon that kind of girl; he had hardly imagined that such a lovely creature could exist. Was it the soft and dainty toilet, was it the brown curls, or the large laughing eyes, or the delicate, finely cut features, or the charming little figure of this fairy-like person? Was this expression on her mobile face merely that of amusement at seeing a country boy? Then John hated her. On the contrary, did she see in him what John felt himself to be? Then [Pg 168] he would go the world over to serve her. In a moment he was self-conscious. His trousers seemed to creep higher up his legs, and he could feel his very ankles blush. He hoped that she had not seen the other side of him, for in fact the patches were not of the exact shade of the rest of the cloth. The vision flashed by him in a moment, but it left him with a resentful feeling. Perhaps that proud little girl would be sorry some day, when he had become a general, or written a book, or kept a store, to see him go away and marry another. He almost made up his cruel mind on the instant that he would never marry her, however bad she might feel. And yet he couldn't get her out of his mind for days and days, and when her image was present even Cynthia in the singers' seat on Sunday looked a little cheap and common. Poor Cynthia! Long before John became a general, or had his revenge on the Baltimore girl, she married a farmer and was the mother of children, red-headed; and when John saw her years after, she looked tired and discouraged, as one who has carried [Pg 169] into womanhood none of the romance of her youth.
RIGGING UP THE FISHING TACKLE
Fishing and dreaming, I think, were the best amusements John had. The middle pier22 of the long covered bridge over the river stood upon a great rock, and this rock (which was known as the swimming-rock, whence the boys on summer evenings dived into the deep pool by its side) was a favorite spot with John when he could get an hour or two from the everlasting23 "chores." Making his way out to it over the rocks at low water with his fish-pole, there he was content to sit and observe the world; and there he saw a great deal of life. He always expected to catch the legendary24 trout which weighed two pounds and was believed to inhabit that pool. He always did catch horned dace and shiners, which he despised, and sometimes he snared25 a monstrous26 sucker a foot and a half long. But in the summer the sucker is a flabby fish, and John was not thanked for bringing him home. He liked, however, to lie with his face close to the water and watch the long fishes panting in the clear depths, and occasionally [Pg 170] he would drop a pebble27 near one to see how gracefully28 he would scud29 away with one wave of the tail into deeper water. Nothing fears the little brown boy. The yellow-bird slants30 his wings, almost touches the deep water before him, and then escapes away under the bridge to the east with a glint of sunshine on his back; the fish-hawk comes down with a swoop31, dips one wing, and, his prey having darted32 under a stone, is away again over the still hill, high soaring on even-poised pinions33, keeping an eye perhaps upon the great eagle which is sweeping34 the sky in widening circles.
WATCHING THE FISHES
But there is other life. A wagon35 rumbles36 over the bridge, and the farmer and his wife, jogging along, do not know that they have startled a lazy boy into a momentary37 fancy that a thunder-shower is coming up. John can see, as he lies there on a still summer day with the fishes and the birds for company, the road that comes down the left bank of the river, a hot, sandy, well-traveled road, hidden from view here and there by trees and bushes. The chief [Pg 171] point of interest, however, is an enormous sycamore-tree by the roadside and in front of John's house. The house is more than a century old, and its timbers were hewed38 and squared by Captain Moses Rice (who lies in his grave on the hillside above it), in the presence of the Red Man who killed him with arrow and tomahawk some time after his house was set in order. The gigantic tree, struck with a sort of leprosy, like all its species, appears much older, and of course has its tradition. They say it grew from a green stake which the first land-surveyor planted there for one of his points of sight. John was reminded of it years after when he sat under the shade of the decrepit39 lime-tree in Freiberg and was told that it was originally a twig40 which the breathless and bloody41 messenger carried in his hand when he dropped exhausted42 in the square with the word "Victory!" on his lips, announcing thus the result of the glorious battle of Morat, where the Swiss in 1476 defeated Charles the Bold. Under the broad but scanty43 shade of the great button-ball tree (as it was called) stood an [Pg 172] old watering-trough, with its half-decayed penstock and well-worn spout44 pouring forever cold sparkling water into the overflowing45 trough. It is fed by a spring near by, and the water is sweeter and colder than any in the known world, unless it be the well Zem-Zem, as generations of people and horses which have drunk of it would testify if they could come back. And if they could file along this road again, what a procession there would be riding down the valley!—antiquated vehicles, rusty46 wagons47 adorned48 with the invariable buffalo-robe even in the hottest days, lean and long-favored horses, frisky49 colts, drawing generation after generation the sober and pious50 saints that passed this way to meeting and to mill.
What a refreshment51 is that water-spout! All day long there are pilgrims to it, and John likes nothing better than to watch them. Here comes a gray horse drawing a buggy with two men,—cattle-buyers probably. Out jumps a man, down goes the check-rein52. What a good draught53 the nag54 takes! Here comes a long-stepping trotter [Pg 173] in a sulky; man in a brown linen55 coat and wide-awake hat,—dissolute, horsey-looking man. They turn up, of course. Ah! there is an establishment he knows well; a sorrel horse and an old chaise. The sorrel horse scents56 the water afar off, and begins to turn up long before he reaches the trough, thrusting out his nose in anticipation57 of the cool sensation. No check to let down; he plunges58 his nose in nearly to his eyes in his haste to get at it. Two maiden59 ladies—unmistakably such, though they appear neither "anxious nor aimless"—within the scoop-top smile benevolently60 on the sorrel back. It is the deacon's horse, a meeting-going nag, with a sedate61, leisurely62 jog as he goes; and these are two of the "salt of the earth,"—the brevet rank of the women who stand and wait,—going down to the village store to dicker. There come two men in a hurry, horse driven up smartly and pulled up short; but as it is rising ground, and the horse does not easily reach the water with the wagon pulling back, the nervous man in the buggy hitches63 forward on his seat, as if that would carry [Pg 174] the wagon a little ahead! Next, lumber-wagon with load of boards; horse wants to turn up, and driver switches him and cries "G'lang," and the horse reluctantly goes by, turning his head wistfully towards the flowing spout. Ah! here comes an equipage strange to these parts, and John stands up to look: an elegant carriage and two horses; trunks strapped64 on behind; gentleman and boy on front seat and two ladies on back seat,—city people. The gentleman descends65, unchecks the horses, wipes his brow, takes a drink at the spout and looks around, evidently remarking upon the lovely view, as he swings his handkerchief in an explanatory manner. Judicious66 travelers! John would like to know who they are. Perhaps they are from Boston, whence come all the wonderfully painted peddlers' wagons drawn by six stalwart horses, which the driver, using no rein, controls with his long whip and cheery voice. If so, great is the condescension67 of Boston; and John follows them with an undefined longing68 as they drive away toward the mountains of Zoar. Here is a footman, dusty and tired, [Pg 175] who comes with lagging steps. He stops, removes his hat, as he should to such a tree, puts his mouth to the spout, and takes a long pull at the lively water. And then he goes on, perhaps to Zoar, perhaps to a worse place.
So they come and go all the summer afternoon; but the great event of the day is the passing down the valley of the majestic69 stage-coach, the vast yellow-bodied, rattling70 vehicle. John can hear a mile off the shaking of chains, traces, and whiffletrees, and the creaking of its leathern braces71, as the great bulk swings along piled high with trunks. It represents to John, somehow, authority, government, the right of way; the driver is an autocrat,—everybody must make way for the stage-coach. It almost satisfies the imagination, this royal vehicle; one can go in it to the confines of the world,—to Boston and to Albany.
There were other influences that I dare say contributed to the boy's education. I think his imagination was stimulated72 by a band of gypsies who used to come every summer and pitch a tent on a little roadside [Pg 176] patch of green turf by the river-bank, not far from his house. It was shaded by elms and butternut-trees, and a long spit of sand and pebbles73 ran out from it into the brawling74 stream. Probably they were not a very good kind of gypsy, although the story was that the men drank and beat the women. John didn't know much about drinking; his experience of it was confined to sweet cider; yet he had already set himself up as a reformer, and joined the Cold Water Band. The object of this Band was to walk in a procession under a banner that declared,—
"So here we pledge perpetual hate
To all that can intoxicate75;"
and wear a badge with this legend, and above it the device of a well-curb with a long sweep. It kept John and all the little boys and girls from being drunkards till they were ten or eleven years of age; though perhaps a few of them died meantime from eating loaf-cake and pie and drinking ice-cold water at the celebrations of the Band.
The gypsy camp had a strange fascination76 [Pg 177] for John, mingled77 of curiosity and fear. Nothing more alien could come into the New England life than this tatterdemalion band. It was hardly credible78 that here were actually people who lived outdoors, who slept in their covered wagon or under their tent, and cooked in the open air; it was a visible romance transferred from foreign lands and the remote times of the story-books; and John took these city thieves, who were on their annual foray into the country, trading and stealing horses and robbing hen-roosts and cornfields, for the mysterious race who for thousands of years have done these same things in all lands, by right of their pure blood and ancient lineage. John was afraid to approach the camp when any of the scowling79 and villanous men were lounging about, pipes in mouth; but he took more courage when only women and children were visible. The swarthy, black-haired women in dirty calico frocks were anything but attractive, but they spoke80 softly to the boy, and told his fortune, and wheedled81 him into bringing them any amount of cucumbers [Pg 178] and green corn in the course of the season. In front of the tent were planted in the ground three poles that met together at the top, whence depended a kettle. This was the kitchen, and it was sufficient. The fuel for the fire was the driftwood of the stream. John noted82 that it did not require to be sawed into stove-lengths; and, in short, that the "chores" about this establishment were reduced to the minimum. And an older person than John might envy the free life of these wanderers, who paid neither rent nor taxes, and yet enjoyed all the delights of nature. It seemed to the boy that affairs would go more smoothly83 in the world if everybody would live in this simple manner. Nor did he then know, or ever after find out, why it is that the world only permits wicked people to be Bohemians.
ENTERING THE OLD BRIDGE
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imp
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| n.顽童 | |
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apprenticeship
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| n.学徒身份；学徒期 | |
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tempting
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| a.诱人的, 吸引人的 | |
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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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ineffably
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| adv.难以言喻地，因神圣而不容称呼地 | |
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fathomless
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| a.深不可测的 | |
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vault
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| n.拱形圆顶，地窖，地下室 | |
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poised
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| a.摆好姿势不动的 | |
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prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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eel
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| n.鳗鲡 | |
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devotedly
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| 专心地； 恩爱地； 忠实地； 一心一意地 | |
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scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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vile
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| adj.卑鄙的，可耻的，邪恶的；坏透的 | |
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trout
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| n.鳟鱼；鲑鱼(属) | |
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awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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fickle
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| adj.(爱情或友谊上)易变的，不坚定的 | |
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luxurious
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| adj.精美而昂贵的；豪华的 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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haughtiness
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| n.傲慢；傲气 | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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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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everlasting
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| adj.永恒的，持久的，无止境的 | |
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legendary
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| adj.传奇（中）的，闻名遐迩的；n.传奇（文学） | |
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snared
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| v.用罗网捕捉，诱陷，陷害( snare的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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pebble
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| n.卵石，小圆石 | |
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gracefully
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| ad.大大方方地；优美地 | |
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scud
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| n.疾行；v.疾行 | |
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slants
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| （使）倾斜，歪斜( slant的第三人称单数 )； 有倾向性地编写或报道 | |
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swoop
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| n.俯冲，攫取；v.抓取，突然袭击 | |
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darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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pinions
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| v.抓住[捆住]（双臂）( pinion的第三人称单数 ) | |
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sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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wagon
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| n.四轮马车，手推车，面包车；无盖运货列车 | |
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rumbles
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| 隆隆声，辘辘声( rumble的名词复数 ) | |
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momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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hewed
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| v.（用斧、刀等）砍、劈( hew的过去式和过去分词 )；砍成；劈出；开辟 | |
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decrepit
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| adj.衰老的，破旧的 | |
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twig
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| n.小树枝，嫩枝；v.理解 | |
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bloody
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| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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scanty
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| adj.缺乏的，仅有的，节省的，狭小的，不够的 | |
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spout
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| v.喷出，涌出；滔滔不绝地讲；n.喷管；水柱 | |
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overflowing
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| n. 溢出物,溢流 adj. 充沛的，充满的 动词overflow的现在分词形式 | |
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rusty
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| adj.生锈的；锈色的；荒废了的 | |
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wagons
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| n.四轮的运货马车( wagon的名词复数 )；铁路货车；小手推车 | |
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adorned
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| [计]被修饰的 | |
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frisky
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| adj.活泼的，欢闹的；n.活泼，闹着玩；adv.活泼地，闹着玩地 | |
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pious
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| adj.虔诚的；道貌岸然的 | |
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refreshment
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| n.恢复，精神爽快，提神之事物；（复数）refreshments:点心，茶点 | |
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rein
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| n.疆绳，统治，支配；vt.以僵绳控制，统治 | |
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draught
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| n.拉，牵引，拖；一网（饮，吸，阵)；顿服药量，通风；v.起草，设计 | |
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nag
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| v.(对…)不停地唠叨；n.爱唠叨的人 | |
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linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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scents
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| n.香水( scent的名词复数 )；气味；（动物的）臭迹；（尤指狗的）嗅觉 | |
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anticipation
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| n.预期，预料，期望 | |
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plunges
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| n.跳进，投入vt.使投入，使插入，使陷入vi.投入，跳进，陷入v.颠簸( plunge的第三人称单数 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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maiden
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| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
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benevolently
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| adv.仁慈地，行善地 | |
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sedate
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| adj.沉着的，镇静的，安静的 | |
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leisurely
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| adj.悠闲的；从容的，慢慢的 | |
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hitches
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| 暂时的困难或问题( hitch的名词复数 )； 意外障碍； 急拉； 绳套 | |
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strapped
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| adj.用皮带捆住的，用皮带装饰的；身无分文的；缺钱；手头紧v.用皮带捆扎(strap的过去式和过去分词)；用皮带抽打；包扎；给…打绷带 | |
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descends
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| v.下来( descend的第三人称单数 )；下去；下降；下斜 | |
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judicious
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| adj.明智的，明断的，能作出明智决定的 | |
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condescension
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| n.自以为高人一等，贬低(别人) | |
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longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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69
majestic
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| adj.雄伟的，壮丽的，庄严的，威严的，崇高的 | |
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70
rattling
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| adj. 格格作响的, 活泼的, 很好的 adv. 极其, 很, 非常 动词rattle的现在分词 | |
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71
braces
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| n.吊带，背带；托架( brace的名词复数 )；箍子；括弧；（儿童）牙箍v.支住( brace的第三人称单数 )；撑牢；使自己站稳；振作起来 | |
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72
stimulated
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| a.刺激的 | |
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73
pebbles
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| [复数]鹅卵石； 沙砾； 卵石，小圆石( pebble的名词复数 ) | |
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74
brawling
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| n.争吵，喧嚷 | |
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75
intoxicate
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| vt.使喝醉，使陶醉，使欣喜若狂 | |
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76
fascination
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| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
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77
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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78
credible
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| adj.可信任的，可靠的 | |
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79
scowling
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| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的现在分词 ) | |
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80
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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81
wheedled
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| v.骗取（某物），哄骗（某人干某事）( wheedle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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82
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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83
smoothly
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| adv.平滑地，顺利地，流利地，流畅地 | |
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