[Pg 9]Now, I cannot think of anything more unlikely and uninteresting to make a story of than that old brown "linter" house of Captain Zephaniah Pennel, down on the south end of Orr's Island.
Zephaniah and Mary Pennel, like Zacharias and Elizabeth, are a pair of worthy1, God-fearing people, walking in all the commandments and ordinances3 of the Lord blameless; but that is no great recommendation to a world gaping4 for sensation and calling for something stimulating5. This worthy couple never read anything but the Bible, the "Missionary6 Herald," and the "Christian7 Mirror,"—never went anywhere except in the round of daily business. He owned a fishing-smack, in which he labored8 after the apostolic fashion; and she washed, and ironed, and scrubbed, and brewed9, and baked, in her contented10 round, week in and out. The only recreation they ever enjoyed was the going once a week, in good weather, to a prayer-meeting in a little old brown school-house, about a mile from their dwelling11; and making a weekly excursion every Sunday, in their fishing craft, to the church opposite, on Harpswell Neck.
To be sure, Zephaniah had read many wide leaves of God's great book of Nature, for, like most Maine sea-captains, he had been wherever ship can go,—to all usual and unusual ports. His hard, shrewd, weather-beaten visage had been seen looking over the railings of his brig in the port of Genoa, swept round by its splendid crescent of[Pg 10] palaces and its snow-crested Apennines. It had looked out in the Lagoons12 of Venice at that wavy13 floor which in evening seems a sea of glass mingled14 with fire, and out of which rise temples, and palaces, and churches, and distant silvery Alps, like so many fabrics15 of dreamland. He had been through the Skagerrack and Cattegat,—into the Baltic, and away round to Archangel, and there chewed a bit of chip, and considered and calculated what bargains it was best to make. He had walked the streets of Calcutta in his shirt-sleeves, with his best Sunday vest, backed with black glazed16 cambric, which six months before came from the hands of Miss Roxy, and was pronounced by her to be as good as any tailor could make; and in all these places he was just Zephaniah Pennel,—a chip of old Maine,—thrifty, careful, shrewd, honest, God-fearing, and carrying an instinctive17 knowledge of men and things under a face of rustic18 simplicity19.
It was once, returning from one of his voyages, that he found his wife with a black-eyed, curly-headed little creature, who called him papa, and climbed on his knee, nestled under his coat, rifled his pockets, and woke him every morning by pulling open his eyes with little fingers, and jabbering20 unintelligible21 dialects in his ears.
"We will call this child Naomi, wife," he said, after consulting his old Bible; "for that means pleasant, and I'm sure I never see anything beat her for pleasantness. I never knew as children was so engagin'!"
It was to be remarked that Zephaniah after this made shorter and shorter voyages, being somehow conscious of a string around his heart which pulled him harder and harder, till one Sunday, when the little Naomi was five years old, he said to his wife,—
"I hope I ain't a-pervertin' Scriptur' nor nuthin', but I can't help thinkin' of one passage, 'The kingdom of heaven is like a merchantman seeking goodly pearls, and[Pg 11] when he hath found one pearl of great price, for joy thereof he goeth and selleth all that he hath, and buyeth that pearl.' Well, Mary, I've been and sold my brig last week," he said, folding his daughter's little quiet head under his coat, "'cause it seems to me the Lord's given us this pearl of great price, and it's enough for us. I don't want to be rambling22 round the world after riches. We'll have a little farm down on Orr's Island, and I'll have a little fishing-smack, and we'll live and be happy together."
And so Mary, who in those days was a pretty young married woman, felt herself rich and happy,—no duchess richer or happier. The two contentedly23 delved24 and toiled25, and the little Naomi was their princess. The wise men of the East at the feet of an infant, offering gifts, gold, frankincense, and myrrh, is just a parable26 of what goes on in every house where there is a young child. All the hard and the harsh, and the common and the disagreeable, is for the parents,—all the bright and beautiful for their child.
When the fishing-smack went to Portland to sell mackerel, there came home in Zephaniah's fishy27 coat pocket strings28 of coral beads29, tiny gaiter boots, brilliant silks and ribbons for the little fairy princess,—his Pearl of the Island; and sometimes, when a stray party from the neighboring town of Brunswick came down to explore the romantic scenery of the solitary30 island, they would be startled by the apparition31 of this still, graceful32, dark-eyed child exquisitely33 dressed in the best and brightest that the shops of a neighboring city could afford,—sitting like some tropical bird on a lonely rock, where the sea came dashing up into the edges of arbor34 vitæ, or tripping along the wet sands for shells and seaweed.
Many children would have been spoiled by such unlimited35 indulgence; but there are natures sent down into this harsh world so timorous36, and sensitive, and helpless in themselves, that the utmost stretch of indulgence and kind[Pg 12]ness is needed for their development,—like plants which the warmest shelf of the green-house and the most careful watch of the gardener alone can bring into flower. The pale child, with her large, lustrous37, dark eyes, and sensitive organization, was nursed and brooded into a beautiful womanhood, and then found a protector in a high-spirited, manly38 young ship-master, and she became his wife.
And now we see in the best room—the walls lined with serious faces—men, women, and children, that have come to pay the last tribute of sympathy to the living and the dead. The house looked so utterly39 alone and solitary in that wild, sea-girt island, that one would have as soon expected the sea-waves to rise and walk in, as so many neighbors; but they had come from neighboring points, crossing the glassy sea in their little crafts, whose white sails looked like millers40' wings, or walking miles from distant parts of the island.
Some writer calls a funeral one of the amusements of a New England population. Must we call it an amusement to go and see the acted despair of Medea? or the dying agonies of poor Adrienne Lecouvreur? It is something of the same awful interest in life's tragedy, which makes an untaught and primitive42 people gather to a funeral,—a tragedy where there is no acting,—and one which each one feels must come at some time to his own dwelling.
Be that as it may, here was a roomful. Not only Aunt Roxy and Aunt Ruey, who by a prescriptive right presided over all the births, deaths, and marriages of the neighborhood, but there was Captain Kittridge, a long, dry, weather-beaten old sea-captain, who sat as if tied in a double bow-knot, with his little fussy43 old wife, with a great Leghorn bonnet44, and eyes like black glass beads shining through in the bows of her horn spectacles, and her hymn-book in her hand ready to lead the psalm45. There were aunts, uncles, cousins, and brethren of the deceased; and in the[Pg 13] midst stood two coffins47, where the two united in death lay sleeping tenderly, as those to whom rest is good. All was still as death, except a chance whisper from some busy neighbor, or a creak of an old lady's great black fan, or the fizz of a fly down the window-pane, and then a stifled48 sound of deep-drawn49 breath and weeping from under a cloud of heavy black crape veils, that were together in the group which country-people call the mourners.
A gleam of autumn sunlight streamed through the white curtains, and fell on a silver baptismal vase that stood on the mother's coffin46, as the minister rose and said, "The ordinance2 of baptism will now be administered." A few moments more, and on a baby brow had fallen a few drops of water, and the little pilgrim of a new life had been called Mara in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost,—the minister slowly repeating thereafter those beautiful words of Holy Writ41, "A father of the fatherless is God in his holy habitation,"—as if the baptism of that bereaved50 one had been a solemn adoption51 into the infinite heart of the Lord.
With something of the quaint52 pathos53 which distinguishes the primitive and Biblical people of that lonely shore, the minister read the passage in Ruth from which the name of the little stranger was drawn, and which describes the return of the bereaved Naomi to her native land. His voice trembled, and there were tears in many eyes as he read, "And it came to pass as she came to Bethlehem, all the city was moved about them; and they said, Is this Naomi? And she said unto them, Call me not Naomi; call me Mara; for the Almighty54 hath dealt very bitterly with me. I went out full, and the Lord hath brought me home again empty: why then call ye me Naomi, seeing the Lord hath testified against me, and the Almighty hath afflicted55 me?"
Deep, heavy sobs56 from the mourners were for a few[Pg 14] moments the only answer to these sad words, till the minister raised the old funeral psalm of New England,—
"Why do we mourn departing friends,
Or shake at Death's alarms?
'Tis but the voice that Jesus sends
To call them to his arms.
"Are we not tending upward too,
As fast as time can move?
And should we wish the hours more slow
That bear us to our love?"
The words rose in old "China,"—that strange, wild warble, whose quaintly57 blended harmonies might have been learned of moaning seas or wailing58 winds, so strange and grand they rose, full of that intense pathos which rises over every defect of execution; and as they sung, Zephaniah Pennel straightened his tall form, before bowed on his hands, and looked heavenward, his cheeks wet with tears, but something sublime59 and immortal60 shining upward through his blue eyes; and at the last verse he came forward involuntarily, and stood by his dead, and his voice rose over all the others as he sung,—
And bid the dead arise!
Awake, ye nations under ground!
The sunbeam through the window-curtain fell on his silver hair, and they that looked beheld63 his face as it were the face of an angel; he had gotten a sight of the city whose foundation is jasper, and whose every gate is a separate pearl.
点击收听单词发音
1 worthy | |
adj.(of)值得的,配得上的;有价值的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
2 ordinance | |
n.法令;条令;条例 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
3 ordinances | |
n.条例,法令( ordinance的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
4 gaping | |
adj.口的;张口的;敞口的;多洞穴的v.目瞪口呆地凝视( gape的现在分词 );张开,张大 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
5 stimulating | |
adj.有启发性的,能激发人思考的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
6 missionary | |
adj.教会的,传教(士)的;n.传教士 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
7 Christian | |
adj.基督教徒的;n.基督教徒 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
8 labored | |
adj.吃力的,谨慎的v.努力争取(for)( labor的过去式和过去分词 );苦干;详细分析;(指引擎)缓慢而困难地运转 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
9 brewed | |
调制( brew的过去式和过去分词 ); 酝酿; 沏(茶); 煮(咖啡) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
10 contented | |
adj.满意的,安心的,知足的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
11 dwelling | |
n.住宅,住所,寓所 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
12 lagoons | |
n.污水池( lagoon的名词复数 );潟湖;(大湖或江河附近的)小而浅的淡水湖;温泉形成的池塘 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
13 wavy | |
adj.有波浪的,多浪的,波浪状的,波动的,不稳定的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
14 mingled | |
混合,混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 ); 混进,与…交往[联系] | |
参考例句: |
|
|
15 fabrics | |
织物( fabric的名词复数 ); 布; 构造; (建筑物的)结构(如墙、地面、屋顶):质地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
16 glazed | |
adj.光滑的,像玻璃的;上过釉的;呆滞无神的v.装玻璃( glaze的过去式);上釉于,上光;(目光)变得呆滞无神 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
17 instinctive | |
adj.(出于)本能的;直觉的;(出于)天性的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
18 rustic | |
adj.乡村的,有乡村特色的;n.乡下人,乡巴佬 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
19 simplicity | |
n.简单,简易;朴素;直率,单纯 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
20 jabbering | |
v.急切而含混不清地说( jabber的现在分词 );急促兴奋地说话;结结巴巴 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
21 unintelligible | |
adj.无法了解的,难解的,莫明其妙的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
22 rambling | |
adj.[建]凌乱的,杂乱的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
23 contentedly | |
adv.心满意足地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
24 delved | |
v.深入探究,钻研( delve的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
25 toiled | |
长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的过去式和过去分词 ); 艰难缓慢地移动,跋涉 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
26 parable | |
n.寓言,比喻 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
27 fishy | |
adj. 值得怀疑的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
28 strings | |
n.弦 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
29 beads | |
n.(空心)小珠子( bead的名词复数 );水珠;珠子项链 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
30 solitary | |
adj.孤独的,独立的,荒凉的;n.隐士 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
31 apparition | |
n.幽灵,神奇的现象 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
32 graceful | |
adj.优美的,优雅的;得体的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
33 exquisitely | |
adv.精致地;强烈地;剧烈地;异常地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
34 arbor | |
n.凉亭;树木 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
35 unlimited | |
adj.无限的,不受控制的,无条件的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
36 timorous | |
adj.胆怯的,胆小的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
37 lustrous | |
adj.有光泽的;光辉的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
38 manly | |
adj.有男子气概的;adv.男子般地,果断地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
39 utterly | |
adv.完全地,绝对地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
40 millers | |
n.(尤指面粉厂的)厂主( miller的名词复数 );磨房主;碾磨工;铣工 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
41 writ | |
n.命令状,书面命令 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
42 primitive | |
adj.原始的;简单的;n.原(始)人,原始事物 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
43 fussy | |
adj.为琐事担忧的,过分装饰的,爱挑剔的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
44 bonnet | |
n.无边女帽;童帽 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
45 psalm | |
n.赞美诗,圣诗 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
46 coffin | |
n.棺材,灵柩 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
47 coffins | |
n.棺材( coffin的名词复数 );使某人早亡[死,完蛋,垮台等]之物 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
48 stifled | |
(使)窒息, (使)窒闷( stifle的过去式和过去分词 ); 镇压,遏制; 堵 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
49 drawn | |
v.拖,拉,拔出;adj.憔悴的,紧张的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
50 bereaved | |
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) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
51 adoption | |
n.采用,采纳,通过;收养 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
52 quaint | |
adj.古雅的,离奇有趣的,奇怪的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
53 pathos | |
n.哀婉,悲怆 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
54 almighty | |
adj.全能的,万能的;很大的,很强的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
55 afflicted | |
使受痛苦,折磨( afflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
56 sobs | |
啜泣(声),呜咽(声)( sob的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
57 quaintly | |
adv.古怪离奇地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
58 wailing | |
v.哭叫,哀号( wail的现在分词 );沱 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
59 sublime | |
adj.崇高的,伟大的;极度的,不顾后果的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
60 immortal | |
adj.不朽的;永生的,不死的;神的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
61 trumpet | |
n.喇叭,喇叭声;v.吹喇叭,吹嘘 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
62 ascend | |
vi.渐渐上升,升高;vt.攀登,登上 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
63 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 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
欢迎访问英文小说网 |