With the close of my school-days at Rivermouth this modest chronicle ends.
The new life upon which I entered, the new friends and foes1 I encountered on the road, and what I did and what I did not, are matters that do not come within the scope of these pages. But before I write Finis to the record as it stands, before I leave it -- feeling as if I were once more going away from my boyhood -- I have a word or two to say concerning a few of the personages who have figured in the story, if you will allow me to call Gypsy a personage.
I am sure that the reader who has followed me thus far will be willing to hear what became of her, and Sailor Ben and Miss Abigail and the Captain.
First about Gypsy. A month after my departure from Rivermouth the Captain informed me by letter that he had parted with the little mare2, according to agreement. She had been sold to the ring-master of a travelling circus (I had stipulated3 on this disposal of her), and was about to set out on her travels. She did not disappoint my glowing anticipations4, but became quite a celebrity5 in her way -- by dancing the polka to slow music on a pine-board ball-room constructed for the purpose.
I chanced once, a long while afterwards, to be in a country town where her troupe6 was giving exhibitions; I even read the gaudily7 illumined show-bill, setting forth8 the accomplishments9 of Zuleika, the famed Arabian Trick Pony10 -- but I failed to recognize my dear little Mustang girl behind those high-sounding titles, and so, alas11, did not attend the performance! I hope all the praises she received and all the spangled trappings she wore did not spoil her; but I am afraid they did, for she was always over much given to the vanities of this world!
Miss Abigail regulated the domestic destinies of my grandfather's household until the day of her death, which Dr. Theophilus Tredick solemnly averred12 was hastened by the inveterate13 habit she had contracted of swallowing unknown quantities of hot-drops whenever she fancied herself out of sorts. Eighty-seven empty phials were found in a bonnet-box on a shelf in her bedroom closet.
The old house became very lonely when the family got reduced to Captain Nutter14 and Kitty; and when Kitty passed away, my grandfather divided his time between Rivermouth and New York.
Sailor Ben did not long survive his little Irish lass, as he always fondly called her. At his demise15, which took place about six years since, he left his property in trust to the managers of a "Home for Aged16 Mariners17." In his will, which was a very whimsical document -- written by himself, and worded with much shrewdness, too -- he warned the Trustees that when he got "aloft" he intended to keep his "weather eye" on them, and should send "a speritual shot across their bows" and bring them to, if they didn't treat the Aged Mariners handsomely.
He also expressed a wish to have his body stitched up in a shotted hammock and dropped into the harbor; but as he did not strenuously18 insist on this, and as it was not in accordance with my grandfather's preconceived notions of Christian19 burial, the Admiral was laid to rest beside Kitty, in the Old South Burying Ground, with an anchor that would have delighted him neatly20 carved on his headstone.
I am sorry the fire has gone out in the old ship's stove in that sky-blue cottage at the head of the wharf21; I am sorry they have taken down the flag-staff and painted over the funny port-holes; for I loved the old cabin as it was. They might have let it alone!
For several months after leaving Rivermouth I carried on a voluminous correspondence with Pepper Whitcomb; but it gradually dwindled22 down to a single letter a month, and then to none at all. But while he remained at the Temple Grammar School he kept me advised of the current gossip of the town and the doings of the Centipedes.
As one by one the boys left the academy -- Adams, Harris, Marden, Blake, and Langdon -- to seek their fortunes elsewhere, there was less to interest me in the old seaport23; and when Pepper himself went to Philadelphia to read law, I had no one to give me an inkling of what was going on.
There wasn't much to go on, to be sure. Great events no longer considered it worth their while to honor so quiet a place.
One Fourth of July the Temple Grammar School burnt down -- set on fire, it was supposed, by an eccentric squib that was seen to bolt into an upper window -- and Mr. Grimshaw retired24 from public life, married, "and lived happily ever after," as the story-books say.
The Widow Conway, I am able to state, did not succeed in enslaving Mr. Meeks, the apothecary25, who united himself clandestinely26 to one of Miss Dorothy Gibbs's young ladies, and lost the patronage27 of Primrose28 Hall in consequence.
Young Conway went into the grocery business with his ancient chum, Rodgers -- RODGERS & CONWAY! I read the sign only last summer when I was down in Rivermouth, and had half a mind to pop into the shop and shake hands with him, and ask him if he wanted to fight. I contented29 myself, however, with flattening30 my nose against his dingy31 shop-window, and beheld32 Conway, in red whiskers and blue overalls33, weighing out sugar for a customer -- giving him short weight, I'll bet anything!
I have reserved my pleasantest word for the last. It is touching34 the Captain. The Captain is still hale and rosy35, and if he doesn't relate his exploit in the War of 1812 as spiritedly as he used to, he makes up by relating it more frequently and telling it differently every time! He passes his winters in New York and his summers in the Nutter House, which threatens to prove a hard nut for the destructive gentleman with the scythe36 and the hour-glass, for the seaward gable has not yielded a clapboard to the eastwind these twenty years. The Captain has now become the Oldest Inhabitant in Rivermouth, and so I don't laugh at the Oldest Inhabitant any more, but pray in my heart that he may occupy the post of honor for half a century to come!
So ends the Story of a Bad Boy -- but not such a very bad boy, as I told you to begin with.
The End
1 foes | |
敌人,仇敌( foe的名词复数 ) | |
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2 mare | |
n.母马,母驴 | |
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3 stipulated | |
vt.& vi.规定;约定adj.[法]合同规定的 | |
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4 anticipations | |
预期( anticipation的名词复数 ); 预测; (信托财产收益的)预支; 预期的事物 | |
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5 celebrity | |
n.名人,名流;著名,名声,名望 | |
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6 troupe | |
n.剧团,戏班;杂技团;马戏团 | |
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7 gaudily | |
adv.俗丽地 | |
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8 forth | |
adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
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9 accomplishments | |
n.造诣;完成( accomplishment的名词复数 );技能;成绩;成就 | |
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10 pony | |
adj.小型的;n.小马 | |
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11 alas | |
int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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12 averred | |
v.断言( aver的过去式和过去分词 );证实;证明…属实;作为事实提出 | |
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13 inveterate | |
adj.积习已深的,根深蒂固的 | |
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14 nutter | |
n.疯子 | |
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15 demise | |
n.死亡;v.让渡,遗赠,转让 | |
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16 aged | |
adj.年老的,陈年的 | |
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17 mariners | |
海员,水手(mariner的复数形式) | |
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18 strenuously | |
adv.奋发地,费力地 | |
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19 Christian | |
adj.基督教徒的;n.基督教徒 | |
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20 neatly | |
adv.整洁地,干净地,灵巧地,熟练地 | |
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21 wharf | |
n.码头,停泊处 | |
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22 dwindled | |
v.逐渐变少或变小( dwindle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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23 seaport | |
n.海港,港口,港市 | |
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24 retired | |
adj.隐退的,退休的,退役的 | |
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25 apothecary | |
n.药剂师 | |
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26 clandestinely | |
adv.秘密地,暗中地 | |
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27 patronage | |
n.赞助,支援,援助;光顾,捧场 | |
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28 primrose | |
n.樱草,最佳部分, | |
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29 contented | |
adj.满意的,安心的,知足的 | |
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30 flattening | |
n. 修平 动词flatten的现在分词 | |
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31 dingy | |
adj.昏暗的,肮脏的 | |
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32 beheld | |
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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33 overalls | |
n.(复)工装裤;长罩衣 | |
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34 touching | |
adj.动人的,使人感伤的 | |
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35 rosy | |
adj.美好的,乐观的,玫瑰色的 | |
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36 scythe | |
n. 长柄的大镰刀,战车镰; v. 以大镰刀割 | |
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