Somebody had sighed deeply, and had said, "Oh dear!"
What bothered Jimmieboy was to find out who that somebody was. It couldn't have been mamma, because she had gone out that evening with papa to take dinner at Uncle Periwinkle's, and for the same reason, therefore, it could not have been papa that had sighed and said "Oh dear!" so plainly. Neither was it Moggie, as Jimmieboy called his nurse, companion, and friend, because Moggie, supposing him to be asleep, had gone up stairs to her own room to read. It might have been little Russ if it had only been a sigh that had come to Jimmieboy's ears, for little Russ was quite old enough to sigh; but as for adding "Oh dear!" that was quite out of the[Pg 133] question, because all little Russ had ever been able to say was "Bzoo," and, as you may have observed for yourself, people who can only say "Bzoo" cannot say "Oh dear!"
It was so mysterious altogether that Jimmieboy sat up straight on his pillow, and began to wonder if it wouldn't be well for him to get frightened and cry. The question was decided1 in favor of a shriek2 of terror; but the shriek did not come, because just as Jimmieboy got his[Pg 134] mouth open to utter it the strange somebody sighed again, and said:
"Aren't you sorry for me, Jimmieboy?"
"Who are you?" asked Jimmieboy, peering through the darkness, trying to see who it was that had addressed him.
"I'm a poor unhappy Blank-book," came the answer. "A Blank-book with no hope now of ever becoming great. Did you ever feel as if you wanted to become great, Jimmieboy?"
"Oh, yes, indeed," returned the boy. "I do yet. I'm going to be a fireman when I grow up, and drive an engine, and hold a hose, and put out great configurations3, as papa calls 'em."
"Then you know," returned the Blank-book, "or rather you can imagine, my awful sorrow[Pg 135] when I say that I have aspired4 to equally lofty honors, but find myself now condemned5 to do things I don't like, to devote my life not to great and noble deeds, but to miserable6 every-day affairs. You can easily see how I must feel if you will only try to imagine your own feelings if, after a life whose every thought and effort had been directed toward making you the proud driver of a fire-engine, you should find it necessary to settle down to the humdrum7 life of a lawyer, all your hopes destroyed, and the goal toward which you had ever striven placed far beyond your reach."
"You didn't want to be a fireman, did you?" asked Jimmieboy, softly.
"No," said the Blank-book, jumping off the table, and crossing over to Jimmieboy's crib, into which he climbed, much to the little fellow's delight. "No, I never wanted to be a fireman, or a policeman, or a car conductor, because I have always known that those were things I never could become. No matter how wise and great a Blank-book may be, there is a limit to his wisdom and his greatness. It sometimes makes us unhappy to realize this, but after all there is plenty in the world that a Blank-book can do, and do nobly, without envying[Pg 136] others who have to do far nobler and greater things before they can be considered famous. Everything we have to do in this world is worth doing well, and everybody should be content to do the things that are given to his kind to accomplish. The poker9 should always try to poke8 as well as he can, and not envy the garden hose because the garden hose can sprinkle flowers, while he can't. The rake should be content to do the best possible rake's work, and not sigh because he cannot sing 'Annie Rooney' the way the hand-organ does."
"Then why do you sigh because of the work they have given you to do?"
"That's very simple," returned the Blank-book. "I can explain that in a minute. While I have no right to envy a glue-pot because it can hold glue and I can't, I have a right to feel hurt and envious10 when it falls to the lot of another Blank-book, no better than myself, to become the medium through which beautiful poems and lovely thoughts are given to the world, while I am compelled to do work of the meanest kind.
"It has always been my dream to become the companion of a poet, of a philosopher, or of a humorist—to be the Blank-book of his heart—to lie quiet in his pocket until he had thought a[Pg 137] thought, and then to be pulled out of that pocket and to be made the receptacle of that thought.
"Oh, I have dreamed ambitious dreams, Jimmieboy—ambitious dreams that must now remain only dreams, and never be real. Once, as I lay with a thousand others just like me on the shelf of the little stationery11 shop where your mother bought me, I dreamed I was sold to a poet—a true poet. Everywhere he went, went I, and every beautiful line he thought of was promptly12 put down upon one of my leaves with a dainty gold pencil, contact with which was enough to thrill me through and through.
"Here is one of the things I dreamed he wrote upon my leaves:
"'What's the use of tears?
What's the use of moping?
What's the use of fears?
Here's to hoping!
"'Life hath more of joy
Than she hath of weeping.
When grief comes, my boy,
Pleasure's sleeping.
"'Only sleeping, child;
Let thy smiles run wild—
[Pg 138]
"Very nice," said Jimmieboy. "And it's very true, too. Tears aren't any good. Why, they don't even wash your face."
"I know," returned the Blank-book. "Tears are just like rain clouds. A sunny smile can drive 'em away like autumn leaves before a whirl-wind."
"Or a clothes-line full of clothes before an east wind," suggested Jimmieboy.
"Yes; or like buckwheat cakes before a hungry school-boy," put in the Blank-book. "Then that same poet in my dream wrote a verse about his little boy I rather liked. It went this way:
Some man has said boys are made;
If 'twas of my boy 'twas said.
"'For honey, and wine, and sweet sunshine,
And fruits from over the swim,
And everything else that's fair and fine,
Are sure to be found in him.
"'His kisses are nice and sweet as spice,
His smile is richer than cake—
Which, if it were known to rats and mice,
"'His dear little voice is soft and choice,
And it makes my heart and soul rejoice,
To think he belongs to me.'"
"That's first rate," said Jimmieboy. "Only Mother Goose has something very much like it about little girls."
"That was just it," returned the Blank-book. "She had been a little girl herself, and she was too proud to live. If she had been a boy instead of a girl, it would have been the boy who was made of sugar and spice and all that's nice."
"Didn't your dream-poet ever write anything funny in you?" asked Jimmieboy. "I do love funny poems."
"Well, I don't know whether some of the things he wrote were funny or not," returned the Blank-book, scratching his cover with a pencil he carried in a little loop at his side. "But they were queer. There was one about a small boy, named Napples, who spent all his time eating apples, till by some odd mistake he contracted an ache, and now with J. Ginger21 he grapples."
"That's the kind," said Jimmieboy. "I think to some people who never ate a green apple, or tasted Jamaica ginger, or contracted an ache,[Pg 140] it would be real funny. I don't laugh at it, because I know how solemn Tommy Napples must have felt. Did you ever have any more like that?"
"Oh my, yes," returned the Blank-book. "Barrels full. This was another one—only I don't believe what it says is true:
"A man living near Navesink,
With mustard and glue,
Washed down with the best of blue ink.'"
"That's pretty funny," said Jimmieboy.
"Is it?" queried the Blank-book, with a sigh. "I'll have to take your word for it. I can't laugh, because I have nothing to say ha! ha! with, and even if I could say ha! ha! I don't suppose I'd know when to laugh, because I don't know a joke when I see one."
"Really?" asked Jimmieboy, who had never supposed any one could be born so blind that he could not at least see a joke.
"Really," sighed the Blank-book. "Why, a man came into the store where I was for sale once, and said he wanted a Blank-book, and the clerk asked him what for—meaning, of course, did he want an account-book, a diary, or a copy-book.[Pg 141] The man answered, 'To wash windows with, of course,' and everybody laughed but me. I simply couldn't see the point. Can you?"
"Why, certainly," said Jimmieboy, a broad smile coming over his lips. "It was very funny. The point was that people don't wash windows with Blank-books."
"What's funny about that?" asked the Blank-book. "It would be a great deal funnier if people did wash windows with a Blank-book. He might have said 'to go coasting on,' or 'to sweeten my coffee with,' or 'to send out to the heathen,' and it would have been just as funny."
"I guess that's true," said Jimmieboy. "But it was funny just the same."
"No doubt," returned the Blank-book; "but it seems to me what's funny depends on the other fellow. You might get off a splendid joke, and if he hadn't his joke spectacles on he'd think it was nonsense."
"Oh no," said Jimmieboy. "If he hadn't his joke spectacles on he wouldn't think it was nonsense. Jokes are nonsense."
"But you said a moment ago the fun of the Blank-book joke was that you couldn't wash windows with one. That's a fact, so how could it be nonsense?"
[Pg 142]
"I never thought of it in that way," said Jimmieboy.
"Ah!" ejaculated the Blank-book. "Now that is really funny, because I don't see how you could think of it in any other way."
"I don't see anything funny about that," began Jimmieboy.
"Oh dear!" sighed the Blank-book. "We never shall agree, except that I am willing to believe that you know more about nonsense than I do. Perhaps you can explain this poem to me. I dreamt my poet wrote this on my twelfth page. It was called 'A Plane Tale:'
"'I used to be so surly, that
All men avoided me;
"'I met a carpenter one night,
Who wore a dotted vest;
And when I asked if that was right,
He told me to go West.
"'I seized his saw and brandished27 it,
As fiercely as I could,
And told him, with much show of wit,
I thought he was no good.
"'At that he looked me in the face,
And said my tone was gruff;
My manner lacked a needed grace,
[Pg 143]In every way was rough.
He gave a little cough;
And then, although my spirits sank,
He planed me wholly off!
"'And ever since that painful night,
When he so treated me,
I've been as polished, smooth a wight,
As any one can be.'"
"There isn't much sense in that," said Jimmieboy.
"Well, now, I think there is," said the Blank-book. "There's a moral to that. Two of 'em. One's mind your own business. If the carpenter wanted to wear a dotted vest it was nobody's affair. The other moral is, a little plane speaking goes a great way."
"Oh, what a joke!" cried Jimmieboy.
"I didn't make any joke," retorted the Blank-book, his Russia-leather cover getting red as a beet29.
"Yes, you did, too," returned Jimmieboy. "Plane and plain—don't you see? P-l-a-n-e and p-l-a-i-n."
"Bah!" said the Blank-book. "Nonsense! That can't be a joke. That's a coincidence. Is that what you call a joke?"
"Certainly," replied Jimmieboy.
"Well, then, I'm not as badly off as I thought.[Pg 144] I wanted to be a poet's book and couldn't, but it is better to be used for a wash-list as I am than to help funny men to remember stuff like that. I am very grateful to you, Jimmieboy, for the information. You have made me see that I might have fared worse than I have fared, and I thank you, and as I hear your mamma and papa coming up the stairs now, I'll run back to the desk. Good-night!"
And the Blank-book kissed Jimmieboy, and scampered30 over to the desk as fast as it could, and the next day Jimmieboy begged so hard for[Pg 145] it that his mamma gave it to him for his very own.
"What shall you do with it now that you have it?" asked mamma.
"I'm going to save it till I grow up," returned Jimmieboy. "Maybe I'll be a poet, and I can use it to write poems in."
点击收听单词发音
1 decided | |
adj.决定了的,坚决的;明显的,明确的 | |
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2 shriek | |
v./n.尖叫,叫喊 | |
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3 configurations | |
n.[化学]结构( configuration的名词复数 );构造;(计算机的)配置;构形(原子在分子中的相对空间位置) | |
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4 aspired | |
v.渴望,追求( aspire的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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5 condemned | |
adj. 被责难的, 被宣告有罪的 动词condemn的过去式和过去分词 | |
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6 miserable | |
adj.悲惨的,痛苦的;可怜的,糟糕的 | |
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7 humdrum | |
adj.单调的,乏味的 | |
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8 poke | |
n.刺,戳,袋;vt.拨开,刺,戳;vi.戳,刺,捅,搜索,伸出,行动散慢 | |
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9 poker | |
n.扑克;vt.烙制 | |
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10 envious | |
adj.嫉妒的,羡慕的 | |
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11 stationery | |
n.文具;(配套的)信笺信封 | |
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12 promptly | |
adv.及时地,敏捷地 | |
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13 Forsaken | |
adj. 被遗忘的, 被抛弃的 动词forsake的过去分词 | |
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14 forsake | |
vt.遗弃,抛弃;舍弃,放弃 | |
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15 awaken | |
vi.醒,觉醒;vt.唤醒,使觉醒,唤起,激起 | |
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16 queried | |
v.质疑,对…表示疑问( query的过去式和过去分词 );询问 | |
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17 snails | |
n.蜗牛;迟钝的人;蜗牛( snail的名词复数 ) | |
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18 spoke | |
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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19 truthful | |
adj.真实的,说实话的,诚实的 | |
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20 giggles | |
n.咯咯的笑( giggle的名词复数 );傻笑;玩笑;the giggles 止不住的格格笑v.咯咯地笑( giggle的第三人称单数 ) | |
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21 ginger | |
n.姜,精力,淡赤黄色;adj.淡赤黄色的;vt.使活泼,使有生气 | |
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22 zinc | |
n.锌;vt.在...上镀锌 | |
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23 stew | |
n.炖汤,焖,烦恼;v.炖汤,焖,忧虑 | |
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24 diplomat | |
n.外交官,外交家;能交际的人,圆滑的人 | |
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25 wondrous | |
adj.令人惊奇的,奇妙的;adv.惊人地;异乎寻常地;令人惊叹地 | |
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26 suavity | |
n.温和;殷勤 | |
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27 brandished | |
v.挥舞( brandish的过去式和过去分词 );炫耀 | |
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28 plank | |
n.板条,木板,政策要点,政纲条目 | |
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29 beet | |
n.甜菜;甜菜根 | |
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30 scampered | |
v.蹦蹦跳跳地跑,惊惶奔跑( scamper的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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