But you leave them behind, and come out into the sunshine, in a little green glade8 which might be the ballroom9 of the fairy queen. On your right, gleaming through clumps10 of alder11 and black birch, is a pond,—the home of cardinal12 flowers and gleaming jewel-weed; a little farther on, a thicket13 of birch and maple14, from which comes a musical sound of falling water. Follow this sound, keeping to the path, which winds away to the left. Stop! now you may step aside for a moment, and part the heavy hanging branches, and look, where the water falls over a high black wall, into a sombre pool, shut in by fantastic rocks, and shaded from all sunshine by a dense15 fringe of trees. This is the milldam, and the pond above is no natural one, but the enforced repose16 and outspreading of a merry brown brook17, which now shows its true nature, and escaping from the gloomy pool, runs scolding and foaming18 down through a wilderness19 of rocks and trees. You cannot follow it there,—though I have often done so in my barefoot days,—so come back to the path again. There are pines overhead now, and the ground is slippery with the fallen needles, and the air is sweet—ah! how sweet!—with their warm fragrance20. See! here is the old mill itself, now disused and falling to decay. Here the path becomes a little precipice21, and you must scramble22 as best you can down two or three rough steps, and round the corner of the ruined mill. This is a millstone, this great round thing like a granite23 cheese, half buried in the ground; and here is another, which makes a comfortable seat, if you are tired.
But there is a fairer resting-place beyond. Round this one more corner, now, and down,—carefully, carefully!—down this long stairway, formed of rough slabs25 of stone laid one below the other. Shut your eyes now for a moment, and let me lead you forward by the hand. And now—now open the eyes wide, wide, and look about you. In front, and under the windows of the old mill, the water comes foaming and rushing down over a rocky fall some sixty feet high, and leaps merrily into a second pool. No sombre, black gulf27 this, like the one above, but a lovely open circle, half in broad sunshine, half dappled with the fairy shadows of the boughs28 and ferns that bend lovingly over it. So the little brook is no longer angry, but mingles29 lovingly with the deep water of the pool, and then runs laughing and singing along the glen on its way down to the sea. On one side of this glen the bank rises abruptly30 some eighty feet, its sides clothed with sturdy birches which cling as best they may to the rocky steep. On the other stretches the little valley, a narrow strip of land, but with turf as fine as the Queen's lawn, and trees that would proudly grace Her Majesty's park,—tall Norway firs, raising their stately forms and pointing their long dark fingers sternly at the intruders on their solitude31; graceful32 birches; and here and there a whispering larch5 or a nodding pine. The other wall of the valley, or glen, is less precipitous, and its sides are densely33 wooded, and fringed with barberry bushes and climbing eglantine.
And between these two banks, and over this green velvet34 carpet, and among these dark fir-trees,—ah! how the sun shines. Nowhere else in the whole land does he shine so sweetly, for he knows that his time there is short, and that the high banks will shut him out from that green, pleasant place long before he must say good-night to the more common-place fields and hill-sides. So here his beams rest right lovingly, making royal show of gold on the smooth grass, and of diamonds on the running water, and of opals and topazes and beryls where the wave comes curling over the little fall.
And now, amid all this pomp and play of sun and of summer, what is this dash of blue that makes a strange, though not a discordant36, note in our harmony of gold and green? And what is that round, whitish object which is bobbing up and down with such singular energy? Why, the blue is Hildegarde's dress, if you must know; and the whitish object is the head of Zerubbabel Chirk, scholar and devotee; and the energy with which said head is bobbing is the energy of determination and of study. Hilda and Bubble have made themselves extremely comfortable under the great ash-tree which stands in the centre of the glen. The teacher has curled herself up against the roots of the tree, and has a piece of work in her hands; but her eyes are wandering dreamily over the lovely scene before her, and she looks as if she were really too comfortable to move even a finger. The scholar lies at her feet, face downwards37, his chin propped38 on his hands, his head bobbing up and down. The silence is only broken by the noise of the waterfall and the persistent39 chirping40 of some very cheerful little bird.
Presently the boy raised his head and cried joyfully41, "I've fetched him, Miss Hildy! I know it, now, jest like pie!" Whereupon he stood up, and assuming a military attitude, submitted to a severe geographical42 catechising, and came off with flying colors.
"That was a very good recitation," said Hilda, approvingly, as she laid the book down. "You shall have another ballad43 to-day as a reward. But, Bubble," she added, rather seriously, "I do wish you would not use so much slang. It is so senseless! Now what did you mean by saying 'just like pie,' in speaking of your lesson just now?"
"Oh! come now, Miss Hildy!" said Bubble, bashfully, "the' ain't no use in your tellin' me you don't know what pie is."
"Of course I know what pie is, you silly boy!" said Hilda, laughing. "But what has pie to do with your geography lesson?"
"That's so!" murmured the boy, apologetically. "That's a fact, ain't it! I won't say 'like pie' no more; I'll say 'like blazes,' instead."
"You needn't say 'like' anything!" cried Hilda, laughing again; "just say, I know my lesson 'well,' or 'thoroughly44.' There are plenty of real words, Bubble, that have as much meaning as the slang ones, and often a great deal more."
"That's so," said Bubble, with an air of deep conviction. "I'll try not to talk no more slang, Miss Hildy. I will, I swan!"
"But, Bubble, you must not say 'I swan' either; that is abominable45 slang."
Bubble looked very blank. "Why, what shall I say?" he asked, simply. "Pink won't let me say 'I swow,' 'cause it's vulgar; an' if I say 'by' anything, Ma says it's swearin',—an' I can't swear, nohow!"
"Of course not," said Hilda. "But why must you say anything, Bubble,—anything of that sort, I mean?"
"Oh!" said the boy, "I d' 'no 's I kin35 say ezackly why, Miss Hildy; but—but—wal, I swan! I mean, I—I don't mean I swan—but—there now! You see how 'tis, Miss Hildy. Things don't seem to hev no taste to 'em, without you say somethin'."
"Let me think," said Hilda. "Perhaps I can think of something that will sound better."
"I might say, 'Gee46 Whittekers!'" suggested Bubble, brightening up a little. "I know some fellers as says that."
"I don't think that would do," replied Hilda, decidedly. "What does it mean?"
"Don't mean nothing as I knows on," said the boy; "but it sounds kind o' hahnsome, don't it?"
Hilda shook her head with a smile. She did not think "Gee Whittekers" a "hahnsome" expression.
"Bubble," she said after a few moments' reflection, during which her scholar watched her anxiously, "I have an idea. If you must say 'something,' beside what you actually have to say, let it be something that will remind you of your lessons; then it may help you to remember them. Instead of Gee—what is it?—Gee Whittekers, say Geography, or Spelling, or Arithmetic; and instead of 'I swan,' say 'I study!' What do you think of this plan?"
"Fustrate!" exclaimed Bubble, nodding his head enthusiastically. "I like fustrate! Ge-ography! Why, that sounds just like pie! I—I don't mean that, Miss Hildy. I didn't mean to say it, nohow! It kind o' slipped out, ye know." Bubble paused, and hung his head in much confusion.
"Never mind!" said Hilda, kindly47. "Of course you cannot make the change all at once, Bubble. But little by little, if you really think about it, you will bring it about. Next week," she added, "I think we must begin upon grammar. You are doing very well indeed in spelling and geography, and pretty well in arithmetic; but your grammar, Bubble, is simply frightful48."
"Be it?" said Bubble, resignedly. "I want to know!"
"And now," said the young instructress, rising, and shaking out her crumpled49 frock, "that is enough for to-day, Bubble. We must be going home soon; but first, I want to take a peep at the lower part of the old mill, that you told me about yesterday. You have been in there, you say? And how did you get in?"
"I'll show ye!" cried Bubble, springing up with alacrity50, and leading the way towards the mill. "I'll show ye the very place, Miss Hildy. 'Tain't easy to get in, and 'tain't no place for a lady, nohow; but I kin git in, jist like—like 'rithmetic!"
"Bravo, Bubble!" said Hilda, laughing merrily. "That is very well for a beginning. How long is it since the mill was used?" she asked, looking up at the frowning walls of rough, dark stone, covered with moss51 and lichens.
"Farmer Hartley's gran'f'ther was the last miller52," replied Bubble Chirk. "My father used to say he could just remember him, standin' at the mill-door, all white with flour, an' rubbin' his hands and laughin', jes' the way Farmer does. He was a good miller, father said, an' made the mill pay well. But his eldest53 son, that kem after him, warn't no great shakes, an' he let the mill go to wrack54 and ruin, an' jes' stayed on the farm. An' then he died, an' Cap'n Hartley came (that's the farmer's father, ye know), an' he was kind o' crazy, and didn't care about the mill either, an' so there it stayed.
"This way, Miss Hildy!" added the boy, breaking off suddenly, and plunging55 into the tangled56 thicket of shrubs57 and brambles that hid the base of the mill. "Thar! ye see that hole? That's whar I get in. Wait till I clear away the briers a bit! Thar! now ye kin look in."
The "hole" was a square opening, a couple of feet from the ground, and large enough for a person of moderate size to creep through. Hildegarde stooped down and looked in. At first she saw nothing but utter blackness; but presently her eyes became accustomed to the place, and the feeble light which struggled in past her through the opening, revealed strange objects which rose here and there from the vast pit of darkness,—fragments of rusty58 iron, bent59 and twisted into unearthly shapes; broken beams, their jagged ends sticking out like stiffly pointing fingers; cranks, and bits of hanging chain; and on the side next the water, a huge wheel, rising apparently60 out of the bowels61 of the earth, since the lower part of it was invisible. A cold, damp air seemed to rise from the earth. Hilda shivered and drew back, looking rather pale. "What a dreadful place!" she cried. "It looks like a dungeon63 of the Inquisition. I think you were very brave to go in there, Bubble. I am sure I should not dare to go; it looks so spectral64 and frightful."
"Hy Peters stumped65 me to go," said Bubble, simply, "so o' course I went. Most of the boys dassent. And it ain't bad, after the fust time. They do say it's haunted; but I ain't never seed nothin'."
"Haunted!" cried Hilda, drawing back still farther from the black opening. "By—by what, Bubble?"
"Cap'n's ghost!" replied the boy. "He used to go rooklin' round in there when he was alive, folks say, and some thinks his sperit haunts there now."
"Oh, nonsense!" said Hildegarde, with a laugh which did not sound quite natural. "Of course you don't believe any such foolishness as that, Bubble. But what did the old—old gentleman—want there when he was alive? I can't imagine any one going in there for pleasure."
"Dunno, I'm sure!" replied Bubble. "Father, he come down here one day, after blackberries, when he was a boy. He hearn a noise in there, an' went an' peeked66 in, an' there was the ol' Cap'n pokin' about with his big stick in the dirt. He looked up an' saw father, an' came at him with his stick up, roarin' like a mad bull, father said. An' he cut an' run, father did, an' he hearn the ol' Cap'n laughin' after him as if he'd have a fit. Crazy as a loon67, I reckon the Cap'n was, though none of his folks thought so, Ma says."
He let the wild briers fly back about the gloomy opening, and they stepped back on the smooth greensward again. Ah, how bright and warm the sunshine was, after that horrible black pit! Hilda shivered again at the thought of it, and then laughed at her own cowardice68. She turned and gazed at the waterfall, creaming and curling over the rocks, and making such a merry, musical jest of its tumble into the pool. "Oh, lovely, lovely!" she cried, kissing her hand to it. "Bubble, do you know that Hartley's Glen is without exception the most beautiful place in the world?"
"No, miss! Be it really?" asked Zerubbabel, seriously. "I allays69 thought 'twas kind of a sightly gully, but I didn't know't was all that."
"Well, it is," said Hilda. "It is all that, and more; and I love it! But now, Bubble," she added, "we must make haste, for the farmer will be wanting you, and I have a dozen things to do before tea."
"Yes, miss," said Bubble, but without his usual alacrity.
Hilda saw a look of disappointment in his honest blue eyes, and asked what was the matter. "I ain't had my ballid!" said Zerubbabel, sadly.
"Why, you poor lad, so you haven't!" said Hildegarde. "But you shall have it; I will tell it to you as we walk back to the farm. Which one will you have,—or shall I tell you a new one?"
The blue eyes sparkled with the delight of anticipation70. "Oh, please!" he cried; "the one about the bold Buckle-oh!"
Hilda laughed merrily. "The bauld Buccleugh?" she repeated. "Oh! you mean 'Kinmont Willie.' Yes, indeed, you shall have that. It is one of my favorite ballads71, and I am glad you like it."
"Oh, I tell yer!" cried Bubble. "When he whangs the table, and says do they think his helmet's an old woman's bunnit, an' all the rest of it,—I tell ye that's some, Miss Hildy!"
"You have the spirit of the verse, Bubble," said Hilda, laughing softly; "but the words are not quite right." And she repeated the splendid, ringing words of Buccleugh's indignant outcry:
"Oh! is my basnet a widow's curch,
Or my lance a wand o' the willow-tree,
Or my arm a lady's lily hand,
That an English lord should lightly me?
"And have they ta'en him, Kinmont Willie,
And forgotten that the bauld Buccleugh
"And have they e'en ta'en him, Kinmont Willie,
And forgotten that the bauld Buccleugh
Can back a steed or shake a spear?"
Zerubbabel Chirk fairly danced up and down in his excitement "Oh! but begin again at the beginning, please, Miss Hildy," he cried.
So Hilda, nothing loth, began at the beginning; and as they walked homeward, recited the whole of the noble old ballad, which if any girl-reader does not know, she may find it in any collection of Scottish ballads.
"And the best of it is, Bubble," said Hilda, "that it is all true,—every word of it; or nearly every word."
"I'll bet it is!" cried Bubble, still much excited. "They couldn't make lies sound like that, ye know! You kind o' know it's true, and it goes right through yer, somehow. When did it happen, Miss Hildy?"
"Oh! a long time ago," said Hildegarde; "near the end of the sixteenth century. I forget just the very year, but it was in the reign74 of Queen Elizabeth. She was very angry at Buccleugh's breaking into Carlisle Castle, which was an English castle, you see, and carrying off Lord Scroope's prisoner; and she sent word to King James of Scotland that he must give up Buccleugh to her to punish as she saw fit. King James refused at first, for he said that Lord Scroope had been the first to break the truce by carrying off Kinmont Willie in time of peace; but at length he was obliged to yield, for Queen Elizabeth was very powerful, and always would have her own way. So the 'bauld Buccleugh' was sent to London and brought before the great, haughty75 English queen. But he was just as haughty as she, and was not a bit afraid of her. She looked down on him from her throne (she was very stately, you know, and she wore a crown, and a great stiff ruff, and her dress was all covered with gold and precious stones), and asked him how he dared to undertake such a desperate and presumptuous76 enterprise. And Buccleugh—O Bubble, I always liked this so much!—Buccleugh just looked her full in the face, and said, 'What is it a man dare not do?' Now Queen Elizabeth liked nothing so much as a brave man, and this bold answer pleased her. She turned to one of her ministers and said, 'With ten thousand such men our brother in Scotland might shake the firmest throne in Europe.' And so she let him go, just because he was so brave and so handsome."
Bubble Chirk drew a long breath, and his eyes flashed. "I wish't I'd ben alive then!" he said.
"Why, Bubble?" asked Hilda, much amused; "what would you have done?"
"I'd ha' killed Lord Scroope!" he cried,—"him and the hull77 kit78 of 'em. Besides," he added, "I'd like t' ha' lived then jest ter see him,—jest ter see the bold Buckle-oh; that's what I call a man!" And Queen Hildegardis fully24 agreed with him.
They had nearly reached the house when the boy asked: "If that king was her brother, why did she treat him so kind o' ugly? My sister don't act that way."
"What—oh, you mean Queen Elizabeth!" said Hilda, laughing. "King James was not her brother, Bubble. They were cousins, but nothing more."
"You said she said 'brother,'" persisted the boy.
"So I did," replied Hilda. "You see, it was the fashion, and is still, for kings and queens to call each other brother and sister, whether they were really related to each other or not."
"But I thought they was always fightin'," objected Bubble. "I've got a hist'ry book to home, an' in that it says they fit like time whenever they got a chance."
"So they did," said Hilda. "But they called each other 'our royal brother' and 'our beloved sister;' and they were always paying each other fine compliments, and saying how much they loved each other, even in the middle of a war, when they were fighting as hard as they could."
"Humph!" said Bubble, "nice kind o folks they must ha' been. Well, I must go, Miss Hildy," he added, reluctantly. "I've had a splendid time, an' I'm real obleeged to ye. I sh'll try to larn that story by heart, 'bout26 the bold Buckle-oh. I want to tell it to Pink! She'd like it—oh, my! wouldn't she like it, jest like—I mean jest like spellin'! Good by, Miss Hildy!" And Bubble ran off to bring home the cows, his little heart swelling79 high with scorn of kings and queens, and with a fervor80 of devotion to Walter Scott, first lord of Buccleugh.
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1
lichens
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| n.地衣( lichen的名词复数 ) | |
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gateway
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| n.大门口，出入口，途径，方法 | |
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plantation
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| n.种植园，大农场 | |
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larches
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| n.落叶松（木材）( larch的名词复数 ) | |
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larch
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| n.落叶松 | |
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cedar
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| n.雪松，香柏(木) | |
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behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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glade
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| n.林间空地，一片表面有草的沼泽低地 | |
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ballroom
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| n.舞厅 | |
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clumps
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| n.（树、灌木、植物等的）丛、簇( clump的名词复数 )；（土、泥等）团；块；笨重的脚步声v.（树、灌木、植物等的）丛、簇( clump的第三人称单数 )；（土、泥等）团；块；笨重的脚步声 | |
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alder
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| n.赤杨树 | |
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cardinal
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| n.(天主教的)红衣主教；adj.首要的，基本的 | |
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thicket
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| n.灌木丛，树林 | |
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maple
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| n.槭树，枫树，槭木 | |
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dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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brook
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foaming
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wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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fragrance
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| n.芬芳，香味，香气 | |
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precipice
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scramble
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| v.爬行，攀爬，杂乱蔓延，碎片，片段，废料 | |
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granite
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| adj.花岗岩，花岗石 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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slabs
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bout
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| n.侵袭，发作；一次(阵，回)；拳击等比赛 | |
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gulf
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| n.海湾；深渊，鸿沟；分歧，隔阂 | |
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boughs
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| 大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
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mingles
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| 混合，混入( mingle的第三人称单数 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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abruptly
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solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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densely
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| ad.密集地；浓厚地 | |
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velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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kin
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discordant
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| adj.不调和的 | |
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downwards
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| adj./adv.向下的（地），下行的（地） | |
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propped
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| 支撑，支持，维持( prop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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persistent
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| adj.坚持不懈的，执意的；持续的 | |
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chirping
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| 鸟叫，虫鸣( chirp的现在分词 ) | |
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joyfully
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| adv. 喜悦地, 高兴地 | |
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geographical
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| adj.地理的；地区(性)的 | |
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ballad
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| n.歌谣，民谣，流行爱情歌曲 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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abominable
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| adj.可厌的，令人憎恶的 | |
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gee
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| n.马；int.向右！前进！，惊讶时所发声音；v.向右转 | |
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47
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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frightful
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| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
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crumpled
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| adj. 弯扭的, 变皱的 动词crumple的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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alacrity
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| n.敏捷，轻快，乐意 | |
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moss
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| n.苔，藓，地衣 | |
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miller
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| n.磨坊主 | |
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eldest
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| adj.最年长的，最年老的 | |
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wrack
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| v.折磨；n.海草 | |
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plunging
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| adj.跳进的，突进的v.颠簸( plunge的现在分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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tangled
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| adj. 纠缠的，紊乱的 动词tangle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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shrubs
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| 灌木( shrub的名词复数 ) | |
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rusty
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| adj.生锈的；锈色的；荒废了的 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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bowels
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| n.肠，内脏，内部；肠( bowel的名词复数 )；内部，最深处 | |
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dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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dungeon
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| n.地牢，土牢 | |
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spectral
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| adj.幽灵的，鬼魂的 | |
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stumped
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| 僵直地行走，跺步行走( stump的过去式和过去分词 )； 把（某人）难住； 使为难； （选举前）在某一地区作政治性巡回演说 | |
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peeked
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| v.很快地看( peek的过去式和过去分词 )；偷看；窥视；微露出 | |
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loon
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| n.狂人 | |
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cowardice
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| n.胆小，怯懦 | |
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allays
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| v.减轻，缓和( allay的第三人称单数 ) | |
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anticipation
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| n.预期，预料，期望 | |
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ballads
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| 民歌，民谣，特别指叙述故事的歌( ballad的名词复数 )； 讴 | |
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truce
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| n.休战，(争执，烦恼等的)缓和；v.以停战结束 | |
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warden
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| n.监察员，监狱长，看守人，监护人 | |
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reign
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| n.统治时期，统治，支配，盛行；v.占优势 | |
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haughty
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| adj.傲慢的，高傲的 | |
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presumptuous
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| adj.胆大妄为的，放肆的，冒昧的，冒失的 | |
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hull
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| n.船身；(果、实等的)外壳；vt.去(谷物等)壳 | |
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kit
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| n.用具包，成套工具；随身携带物 | |
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swelling
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| n.肿胀 | |
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fervor
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| n.热诚；热心；炽热 | |
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