Up on the mountain-side Tommy was indeed fighting the battle of his life. He had made his way mechanically to the top of the ledge1 of rock from which the spring gushed2 forth3, and had flung himself down upon the grass which crested4 it. He could see far down the valley, until at last, away in the distance, the purple mountains closed in and cut it off. The trees, which clothed them from foot to brow, had been touched by the first November frosts, and their foliage5 fused, as if by magic, from sober green to golden yellow and orange and flaming red.
He looked down upon it all, but not upon its beauty. For its beauty formed no part of the lives of the people who worked out their destinies here. The ugly places along the river were typical of their lives. For them it was only to dive deep into the earth and drag forth the black treasure that had been entombed there, to send it forth to warm and light the world and to move the wheels of industry—to do this at the sacrifice of health and strength and happiness, and, worse than all, of intellect. Brains grow atrophied7 and shrunken where only the muscles are used; for brain, no less than muscle, demands exercise, else it grows weak and flabby. A picture danced before his eyes of a group of stately buildings overlooking a wide and level campus, where men worked, not with their hands, but with their brains, with all the intellectual wealth of the world before them.
Let it not be inferred that there is aught in this to lessen9 the dignity and merit of manual toil10. No man of real attainment11 ever thought to do that. It is only when that toil makes the man a machine, when it shuts out light from the mind, that it is detestable and a menace to human happiness.
Of all that the broader life meant, Tommy had just begun to understand the meaning. He had taken his first draught12 of the sweets of study and of intellectual fellowship, and the taste would linger in his mouth forever, making all others stale and insipid13 by comparison. Must he decide deliberately14 to turn away from the source of that enjoyment15? Was there no other way?
And then, of a sudden, a thought came to him which stung him upright. He owed Jabez Smith three hundred dollars. He must not only provide for father and mother: he must also repay that money. He dropped back again upon the turf with tight-closed lips. What a tremendous sum it seemed! But other boys had done as much, and suddenly remembering his book, he drew it from his pocket and turned over the pages. It was under the name of Horace Greeley he found what he was seeking:
“He could go to school no longer, and must now support himself. From earliest childhood he had determined16 to be a printer; so, when eleven years of age, he walked nine miles to see the publisher of a newspaper and obtain a situation. The editor looked at the small, tow-headed boy, shook his head, and said, ‘You are too young.’ With a heavy heart, the child walked the long nine miles back again. But he must do something; and, a little later, with seventy-five cents in his pocket, and some food tied in a bundle, which he slung17 on the end of a stick over his shoulder, he walked one hundred and twenty miles back to New Hampshire, to see his relatives. After some weeks he returned, with a few more cents in his purse than when he started.”
At last he succeeded in getting apprenticed18 to a printer, and was laughed at for wearing threadbare clothes. “Ah, they did not know that every penny was saved and sent to the father, struggling to clear a farm in the wilderness19 of Pennsylvania. During his four years’ apprenticeship20 he visited his parents twice, though six hundred miles distant, and walked most of the way.” But he was soon thrown out of work again.
“After trying various towns, he found a situation in Erie, taking the place of a workman who was ill, and for seven months he did not lose a day. Out of his wages—eighty-four dollars—he had used only six—less than one dollar a month! Putting fifteen dollars in his pocket, he took the balance of sixty-three in a note, and gave it to his father.”
And this man had become one of the greatest editors the country had ever seen, had been nominated for President, had left an indelible mark upon the nation’s history. Tommy closed the book and replaced it in his pocket. The struggle was quite over, and he went calmly down to the house.
His mother looked at him with anxious eyes as he entered, but the calmness of his face seemed to reassure21 her. The meal was on the table, and he sat down to it with a hunger born of his long fasting.
“Where’s Johnny?” he asked suddenly, seeing that his younger brother’s place at table remained vacant.
“Mis’ Jones took him,” answered his mother. “I didn’t want anybody t’ tend to but your pa after th’ accident. Mis’ Jones said she’d look out fer him fer a few days.”
“How is father?”
“Still asleep. A long sleep’ll do him good, th’ doctor says. But nothin’ can’t make his leg grow out ag’in.”
“No,” said Tommy, “nothing can do that.”
“I s’pose you hed a nice time out East?” she asked at last.
“Yes, a nice time. There were a lot of nice fellows there.”
“An’ could y’ keep up with them?”
“Yes; I managed to keep up. It was a little hard at first, but it grew easier after a while.”
There was a proud light in her eyes as she looked at him.
“Y’ mus’ go back,” she said, “soon ’s y’ kin8. Y’ mustn’t fall behind. We’ll git along here some way.”
“We’ll see,” he answered simply. “I can’t go back till father’s out of danger. There’s no hurry. A whole year wouldn’t matter much.”
There was a tone in his voice which brought his mother’s eyes to his face, and a look in his face that held them there.
“I am older,” said Tommy. “I feel years older—old enough, certainly, to do a little work.”
“Where are my old clothes?” he asked—“the clothes I used to work in?”
Then she understood.
“Not that!” she cried. “Oh, not that!” and would have come to him, but he waved her back, and she sank again into her chair. For an instant he felt immeasurably older than his mother.
“There’s no use trying to get around it,” he said, as calmly as he could. “I’ve got to go to work, and till something better shows up I’ve got to take father’s place in the mine. I can do the work, and I’m going to begin right away. Where are my clothes?”
She rose as one dazed, went to a closet, and drew out the grimy garments. He shuddered25 as he looked at them. His mother saw the movement of disgust, and understood it.
“It sha’n’t be!” she cried, and flung the garments back into the closet and shut the door.
But Tommy had already conquered the moment’s feeling.
“Come, mother,” he said, “we’re making a mountain out of a mole-hill. Why shouldn’t I go back to the mine? It’s only for a little while, till I can find something else. I’m sure I can soon find something else. Give me the clothes.”
She made no movement, and he opened the door and took them out himself.
“I’ll be back in a minute,” he said, and went into the other room.
His loathing26 came back upon him as he slowly donned the dirty garments. For three months he had been clean, and he had reveled in the luxury of cleanliness. But that was all over now. The coal-dust would conquer him as it had done before. But he shook the thought from him, and was quite himself when he came out again into the kitchen where his mother was. She was sitting on a chair, her lips quivering, her eyes misty27 with tears.
“Come here, Tommy,” she said. “Come an’ kiss me. You’re a good boy, Tommy.”
He went to her, and she put her arms convulsively about his neck. He stooped and kissed the trembling lips, then gently loosed her arms and stood away. His eyes were luminous28 with the joy of sacrifice.
“I must go,” he said. “The whistle will blow soon. Remember, I’ll be hungry for supper,” he added gaily29.
“I’ll remember,” she answered, almost smiling. What a supper she would have for him!
She stood on the porch watching him as he went down the path and up the opposite hillside toward the mine. How often had she watched her husband so! He looked back just before he passed from sight and waved his hand to her. But there was a scene on the hillside she could not see, for as the boy turned away a harsh voice startled him.
“Ain’t you Tommy Remington?” it asked.
He looked up with a start and recognized Jabez Smith.
“Yes, sir,” said Tommy, quickly, “and I want to thank you, sir, for—”
“Stop!” cried Jabez, in a tremendous voice. “Not a word. Where you goin’ in them clothes?”
“To work,” faltered the boy, astonished at this unexpected outburst.
“Where?” asked Jabez, sternly.
“At the mine.”
“At the mine!” roared Jabez. “Well, I’ll be blowed! Es thet all your l’arnin’ amounts to? You go away t’ study, an’ then come hum an’ go t’ work ag’in in th’ mine!”
“We need money,” said the boy, timidly. “I can do this until I find something better.”
“Did your father an’ mother send you up here?”
Tommy colored at the tone of his voice.
“No, sir,” he answered quickly. “Father knows nothing about it. Mother tried to keep me from coming.”
“I must go,” said Tommy. “I’ll be late if I don’t hurry.”
“Wait a minute”; and Jabez impressively drew a great wallet from an inner pocket. “You seem t’ fergit thet I’ve got somethin’ t’ say about this—thet I’ve got an int’rust in y’.” He opened the wallet and selected a strip of paper from the mass of documents with which it was crammed31. “D’ y’ know what this is?” he asked, holding it out.
Tommy glanced at it, and blushed to his ears.
“Yes, sir, I know. It’s my note for three hundred dollars. That’s another reason I must get to work. I think I can pay you two dollars a week on it.”
But Jabez stopped him again.
“Who said anything about pay?” he demanded savagely32. “I’m a business man. I’ve lent you this money at five per cent.—a good int’rust. I’d counted on keepin’ it out six or eight year anyway, an’ six hunderd dollars more on th’ same terms. What right ’ve you got t’ upset all them calcerlations?”
Tommy stared at him aghast. The thought crossed his mind that maybe Mr. Smith was mad.
“Oh, I can’t take any more of your money,” he faltered. “It’s not business.”
“But that’s not all,” protested Tommy. “Somebody’s got to take care of father and mother and Johnny.”
Jabez threw up his hands with a gesture of despair.
“What ails34 the boy?” he cried. “D’ y’ s’pose any man’s goin’ t’ starve in this free an’ enlightened country? Why, th’ superintendent35 up at the mine told me yesterday thet he counted on givin’ Remington a job es watchman.”
Now, the superintendent had really told him that, but only after much pressing, of which Jabez said never a word.
“Now are y’ goin’ t’ stop interferin’ with my business?” demanded Jabez.
“I can’t,” faltered Tommy, again. “I’ve no claim.”
At that instant the mine whistle blew shrilly37; but the boy felt an iron hand on his arm that held him to the spot.
“Don’t go,” said Jabez. “Come ’long with me down t’ th’ house, an’ I’ll show y’ whether there’s any claim. Come on.”
His voice was no longer harsh. It was soft, almost gentle. The boy began dimly to understand what was going on in this man’s heart, and followed him down the hill without a word, without a thought of resistance. Jabez led him straight to an upper room fitted up as a kind of office. Tommy caught a glimpse of another room beyond through the half-open door.
“Set down,” said Jabez, and unlocked a heavy chest which stood in one corner of the room. He took out a little case and handed it to Tommy.
“Look at it,” he said.
It was an old daguerreotype—a boy of ten or twelve, with bright face and wide-open, sparkling eyes.
“Thet’s me,” said Jabez.
Tommy glanced from the fresh face of the picture to the grizzled one opposite him.
“Ay, look,” growled38 the man. “You’d ha’ looked a long time afore you’d ’a’ knowed it. I spiled my life—no matter how. Now you’re goin’ t’ make me spile another. Don’t y’ reckon one’s enough?”
His voice was quivering with emotion.
“Don’t y’ reckon one’s enough?” he repeated. “I’ve allers wanted th’ chance t’ set some boy straight on th’ right road, but I hadn’t found the boy worth it. I’ve watched you from th’ time Miss Bessie showed y’ t’ me at the schoolhouse. I’ve heard ’em talkin’ about y’, an’ I’ve seen what was in y’. All th’ time y’ was studyin’ I was watchin’, an’ at last I said t’ myself: ‘Jabez Smith, thet’s th’ boy you’ve been lookin’ fer. You’ve spiled one life, but, with God’s help, you’re goin’ t’ make up fer it now.’ An’ I’ve lived in it, an’ gloried in it. It’s been meat an’ drink t’ me. An’ here you’re goin’ t’ snatch it away!”
He paused with a kind of sob6 in his voice that seemed to choke him, while Tommy sat staring at him, long past the power of reply. But the sob was echoed from the other room.
“I won’t be still!” cried a voice, and the door was thrown back and Bessie Andrews appeared on the threshold. “I’ve heard every word,” she continued through her tears. “I couldn’t help it. I was just coming to see you, Mr. Smith. I’m glad of it!”
Jabez slowly drew his handkerchief from his pocket and mopped his brow in a dazed way.
“Why don’t you speak to him?” cried the girl to Tommy. “But you don’t know all about him that I do. Come here with me this instant”; and she threw herself on her knees before the older man.
But he caught her and held her up.
“Don’t,” he protested brokenly. “I can’t stand it. Only make him listen. I’ve got a right t’ tell him what t’ do. If he only knowed how empty my heart is!”
There was something in the tone that brought the quick tears to the boy’s eyes. His boyish obstinacy39 and pride melted away as he gazed into the other’s tender face. He was drawn40 out of his chair by some power greater than himself, and in an instant was in the other’s arms, sobbing41 upon his breast. He knew that the problem had been solved.
“He’s pure gold,” said Jabez Smith, with his hand on Tommy’s shoulder; “he’s just pure gold. I knowed it when I seen him goin’ up t’ th’ mine with these here clothes on. An’ he sha’n’t stay in th’ rough. We’ll make him int’ the finest piece of work th’ colleges of this country kin turn out.”
But the girl, looking fondly at them, knew that they were both pure gold, and that the old, rough, world-worn nugget was more beautiful than the hand of man could make it.
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1
ledge
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| n.壁架，架状突出物；岩架，岩礁 | |
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2
gushed
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| v.喷，涌( gush的过去式和过去分词 )；滔滔不绝地说话 | |
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3
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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4
crested
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| adj.有顶饰的，有纹章的，有冠毛的v.到达山顶（或浪峰）( crest的过去式和过去分词 )；到达洪峰，达到顶点 | |
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5
foliage
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| n.叶子，树叶，簇叶 | |
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6
sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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7
atrophied
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| adj.萎缩的，衰退的v.（使）萎缩，（使）虚脱，（使）衰退( atrophy的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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8
kin
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| n.家族，亲属，血缘关系；adj.亲属关系的，同类的 | |
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9
lessen
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| vt.减少，减轻；缩小 | |
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10
toil
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| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
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11
attainment
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| n.达到，到达；［常pl.］成就，造诣 | |
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12
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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13
insipid
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| adj.无味的，枯燥乏味的，单调的 | |
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14
deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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15
enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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16
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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17
slung
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| 抛( sling的过去式和过去分词 )； 吊挂； 遣送； 押往 | |
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18
apprenticed
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| 学徒，徒弟( apprentice的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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19
wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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20
apprenticeship
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| n.学徒身份；学徒期 | |
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21
reassure
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| v.使放心，使消除疑虑 | |
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22
moody
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| adj.心情不稳的，易怒的，喜怒无常的 | |
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23
faltered
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| （嗓音）颤抖( falter的过去式和过去分词 )； 支吾其词； 蹒跚； 摇晃 | |
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24
dreading
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| v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的现在分词 ) | |
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25
shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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26
loathing
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| n.厌恶，憎恨v.憎恨，厌恶( loathe的现在分词)；极不喜欢 | |
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27
misty
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| adj.雾蒙蒙的，有雾的 | |
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28
luminous
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| adj.发光的，发亮的；光明的；明白易懂的；有启发的 | |
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29
gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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30
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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31
crammed
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| adj.塞满的，挤满的；大口地吃；快速贪婪地吃v.把…塞满；填入；临时抱佛脚( cram的过去式) | |
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32
savagely
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| adv. 野蛮地，残酷地 | |
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33
irony
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| n.反语，冷嘲；具有讽刺意味的事，嘲弄 | |
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34
ails
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| v.生病( ail的第三人称单数 )；感到不舒服；处境困难；境况不佳 | |
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35
superintendent
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| n.监督人，主管，总监；(英国)警务长 | |
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36
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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37
shrilly
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| 尖声的； 光亮的，耀眼的 | |
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38
growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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39
obstinacy
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| n.顽固；（病痛等）难治 | |
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40
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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41
sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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