It was back in those far-distant days--1848 or '49--that Jim Wolf came to us. He was from a hamlet thirty or forty miles back in the country, and he brought all his native sweetnesses and gentlenesses and simplicities1 with him. He was approaching seventeen, a grave and slender lad, trustful, honest, honorable, a creature to love and cling to. And he was incredibly bashful. He was with us a good while, but he could never conquer that peculiarity2; he could not be at ease in the presence of any woman, not even in my good and gentle mother's; and as to speaking to any girl, it was wholly impossible. He sat perfectly3 still, one day--there were ladies chatting in the room--while a wasp4 up his leg stabbed him cruelly a dozen times; and all the sign he gave was a slight wince5 for each stab and the tear of torture in his eye. He was too bashful to move.
It is to this kind that untoward6 things happen. My sister gave a "candy-pull" on a winter's night. I was too young to be of the company, and Jim was too diffident. I was sent up to bed early, and Jim followed of his own motion. His room was in the new part of the house and his window looked out on the roof of the L annex7. That roof was six inches deep in snow, and the snow had an ice crust upon it which was as slick as glass. Out of the comb of the roof projected a short chimney, a common resort for sentimental8 cats on moonlight nights--and this was a moonlight night. Down at the eaves, below the chimney, a canopy9 of dead vines spread away to some posts, making a cozy10 shelter, and after an hour or two the rollicking crowd of young ladies and gentlemen grouped themselves in its shade, with their saucers of liquid and piping-hot candy disposed about them on the frozen ground to cool. There was joyous11 chaffing and joking and laughter--peal12 upon peal of it.
About this time a couple of old, disreputable tomcats got up on the chimney and started a heated argument about something; also about this time I gave up trying to get to sleep and went visiting to Jim's room. He was awake and fuming13 about the cats and their intolerable yowling. I asked him, mockingly, why he didn't climb out and drive them away. He was nettled14, and said overboldly that for two cents he would.
It was a rash remark and was probably repented15 of before it was fairly out of his mouth. But it was too late--he was committed. I knew him; and I knew he would rather break his neck than back down, if I egged him on judiciously16.
"Oh, of course you would! Who's doubting it?"
It galled17 him, and he burst out, with sharp irritation18, "Maybe you doubt it!"
"I? Oh no! I shouldn't think of such a thing. You are always doing wonderful things, with your mouth."
He was in a passion now. He snatched on his yarn19 socks and began to raise the window, saying in a voice quivering with anger:
"You think I dasn't--you do! Think what you blame please. I don't care what you think. I'll show you!"
The window made him rage; it wouldn't stay up.
I said, "Never mind, I'll hold it."
Indeed, I would have done anything to help. I was only a boy and was already in a radiant heaven of anticipation20. He climbed carefully out, clung to the window sill until his feet were safely placed, then began to pick his perilous21 way on all-fours along the glassy comb, a foot and a hand on each side of it. I believe I enjoy it now as much as I did then; yet it is nearly fifty years ago. The frosty breeze flapped his short shirt about his lean legs; the crystal roof shone like polished marble in the intense glory of the moon; the unconscious cats sat erect22 upon the chimney, alertly watching each other, lashing23 their tails and pouring out their hollow grievances24; and slowly and cautiously Jim crept on, flapping as he went, the gay and frolicsome25 young creatures under the vine canopy unaware26, and outraging27 these solemnities with their misplaced laughter. Every time Jim slipped I had a hope; but always on he crept and disappointed it. At last he was within reaching distance. He paused, raised himself carefully up, measured his distance deliberately28, then made a frantic29 grab at the nearest cat--and missed it. Of course he lost his balance. His heels flew up, he struck on his back, and like a rocket he darted30 down the roof feet first, crashed through the dead vines, and landed in a sitting position in fourteen saucers of red-hot candy, in the midst of all that party--and dressed as he was--this lad who could not look a girl in the face with his clothes on. There was a wild scramble31 and a storm of shrieks32, and Jim fled up the stairs, dripping broken crockery all the way.
The incident was ended. But I was not done with it yet, though I supposed I was. Eighteen or twenty years later I arrived in New York from California, and by that time I had failed in all my other undertakings33 and had stumbled into literature without intending it. This was early in 1867. I was offered a large sum to write something for the Sunday Mercury, and I answered with the tale of "Jim Wolf and the Cats." I also collected the money for it--twenty-five dollars. It seemed over-pay, but I did not say anything about that, for I was not so scrupulous34 then as I am now.
A year or two later "Jim Wolf and the Cats" appeared in a Tennessee paper in a new dress--as to spelling; it was masquerading in a Southern dialect. The appropriator of the tale had a wide reputation in the West and was exceedingly popular. Deservedly so, I think. He wrote some of the breeziest and funniest things I have ever read, and did his work with distinguished35 ease and fluency36. His name has passed out of my memory.
A couple of years went by; then the original story cropped up again and went floating around in the original spelling, and with my name to it. Soon, first one paper and then another fell upon me vigorously for "stealing" "Jim Wolf and the Cats" from the Tennessee man. I got a merciless basting37, but I did not mind it. It's all in the game. Besides, I had learned, a good while before that, that it is not wise to keep the fires going under a slander38 unless you can get some large advantage out of keeping it alive. Few slanders39 can stand the wear of silence.
But I was not done with "Jim and the Cats" yet. In 1873 I was lecturing in London in the Queen's Concert Rooms, Hanover Square, and living at the Langham Hotel, Portland Place. I had no domestic household on that side of the water, and no official household except George Dolby, lecture agent, and Charles Warren Stoddard, the Californian poet, now professor of English literature in the Roman Catholic University, Washington. Ostensibly Stoddard was my private secretary; in reality he was merely my comrade--I hired him in order to have his company. As secretary there was nothing for him to do except to scrap-book the daily reports of the great trial of the Tichborne Claimant for perjury40. But he made a sufficient job out of that, for the reports filled six columns a day and he usually postponed41 the scrap-booking until Sunday; then he had forty-two columns to cut out and paste in--a proper labor42 for Hercules. He did his work well, but if he had been older and feebler it would have killed him once a week. Without doubt he does his literary lectures well, but also without doubt he prepares them fifteen minutes before he is due on his platform and thus gets into them a freshness and sparkle which they might lack if they underwent the staling process of overstudy.
He was good company when he was awake. He was refined, sensitive, charming, gentle, generous, honest himself and unsuspicious of other people's honesty, and I think he was the purest male I have known, in mind and speech. George Dolby was something of a contrast to him, but the two were very friendly and sociable43 together, nevertheless. Dolby was large and ruddy, full of life and strength and spirits, a tireless and energetic talker, and always overflowing44 with good nature and bursting with jollity. It was a choice and satisfactory menagerie, this pensive45 poet and this gladsome gorilla46. An indelicate story was a sharp distress47 to Stoddard; Dolby told him twenty-five a day. Dolby always came home with us after the lecture, and entertained Stoddard till midnight. Me, too. After he left I walked the floor and talked, and Stoddard went to sleep on the sofa. I hired him for company.
Dolby had been agent for concerts, and theaters, and Charles Dickens, and all sorts of shows and "attractions," for many years. He had known the human being in many aspects, and he didn't much believe in him. But the poet did. The waifs and estrays found a friend in Stoddard; Dolby tried to persuade him that he was dispensing48 his charities unworthily, but he was never able to succeed. One night a young American got access to Stoddard at the Concert Rooms and told him a moving tale. He said he was living on the Surrey side, and for some strange reason his remittances49 had failed to arrive from home; he had no money, he was out of employment and friendless; his girl wife and his new baby were actually suffering for food. For the love of Heaven could he lend him a sovereign until his remittance50 should resume? Stoddard was deeply touched, and gave him a sovereign on my account. Dolby scoffed51, but Stoddard stood his ground. Each told me his story later in the evening, and I backed Stoddard's judgment52. Dolby said we were women in disguise, and not a sane53 kind of woman, either. The next week the young man came again. His wife was ill with the pleurisy, the baby had the botts or something--I am not sure of the name of the disease; the doctor and the drugs had eaten up the money; the poor little family were starving. If Stoddard, "in the kindness of his heart, could only spare him another sovereign," etc., etc. Stoddard was much moved, and spared him a sovereign for me. Dolby was outraged54. He spoke55 up and said to the customer:
"Now, young man, you are going to the hotel with us and state your case to the other member of the family. If you don't make him believe in you I shan't honor this poet's drafts in your interest any longer, for I don't believe in you myself."
The young man was quite willing. I found no fault in him. On the contrary, I believed in him at once and was solicitous56 to heal the wounds inflicted57 by Dolby's too frank incredulity; therefore I did everything I could think of to cheer him up and entertain him and make him feel at home and comfortable. I spun58 many yarns59; among others the tale of "Jim Wolf and the Cats." Learning that he had done something in a small way in literature, I offered to try to find a market for him in that line. His face lighted joyfully60 at that, and he said that if I could only sell a small manuscript to Tom Hood61's Annual for him it would be the happiest event of his sad life and he would hold me in grateful remembrance always. That was a most pleasant night for three of us, but Dolby was disgusted and sarcastic62.
Next week the baby died. Meantime I had spoken to Tom Hood and gained his sympathy. The young man had sent his manuscript to him, and the very day the child died the money for the MS. came--three guineas. The young man came with a poor little strip of crape around his arm and thanked me, and said that nothing could have been more timely than that money and that his poor little wife was grateful beyond words for the service I had rendered. He wept, and in fact Stoddard and I wept with him, which was but natural. Also Dolby wept. At least he wiped his eyes and wrung63 out his handkerchief, and sobbed64 stertorously65 and made other exaggerated shows of grief. Stoddard and I were ashamed of Dolby and tried to make the young man understand that he meant no harm, it was only his way. The young man said sadly that he was not minding it, his grief was too deep for other hurts; that he was only thinking of the funeral and the heavy expenses which--
We cut that short and told him not to trouble about it, leave it all to us; send the bills to Mr. Dolby and--
"Yes," said Dolby, with a mock tremor66 in his voice, "send them to me and I will pay them. What, are you going? You must not go alone in your worn and broken condition. Mr. Stoddard and I will go with you. Come, Stoddard. We will comfort the bereaved67 mamma and get a lock of the baby's hair."
It was shocking. We were ashamed of him again, and said so. But he was not disturbed. He said:
"Oh, I know this kind; the woods are full of them. I'll make this offer: if he will show me his family I will give him twenty pounds. Come!"
The young man said he would not remain to be insulted, and he said good-night and took his hat. But Dolby said he would go with him and stay by him until he found the family. Stoddard went along to soothe68 the young man and modify Dolby. They drove across the river and all over Southwork, but did not find the family. At last the young man confessed that there wasn't any.
The thing he sold to Tom Hood's Annual for three guineas was "Jim Wolf and the Cats." And he did not put my name to it.
So that small tale was sold three times. I am selling it again now. It is one of the best properties I have come across.
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1
simplicities
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| n.简单，朴素，率直( simplicity的名词复数 ) | |
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peculiarity
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| n.独特性，特色；特殊的东西；怪癖 | |
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3
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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4
wasp
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| n.黄蜂，蚂蜂 | |
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5
wince
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| n.畏缩，退避，（因痛苦，苦恼等)面部肌肉抽动；v.畏缩，退缩，退避 | |
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untoward
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| adj.不利的，不幸的，困难重重的 | |
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7
annex
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| vt.兼并，吞并；n.附属建筑物 | |
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8
sentimental
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| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
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canopy
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| n.天篷，遮篷 | |
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10
cozy
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| adj.亲如手足的，密切的，暖和舒服的 | |
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11
joyous
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| adj.充满快乐的；令人高兴的 | |
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12
peal
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| n.钟声；v.鸣响 | |
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13
fuming
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| 愤怒( fume的现在分词 )； 大怒； 发怒； 冒烟 | |
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14
nettled
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| v.拿荨麻打，拿荨麻刺（nettle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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15
repented
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| 对（自己的所为）感到懊悔或忏悔( repent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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16
judiciously
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| adv.明断地，明智而审慎地 | |
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17
galled
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| v.使…擦痛( gall的过去式和过去分词 )；擦伤；烦扰；侮辱 | |
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18
irritation
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| n.激怒，恼怒，生气 | |
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19
yarn
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| n.纱，纱线，纺线；奇闻漫谈，旅行轶事 | |
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20
anticipation
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| n.预期，预料，期望 | |
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21
perilous
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| adj.危险的，冒险的 | |
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22
erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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23
lashing
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| n.鞭打；痛斥；大量；许多v.鞭打( lash的现在分词 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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24
grievances
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| n.委屈( grievance的名词复数 )；苦衷；不满；牢骚 | |
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25
frolicsome
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| adj.嬉戏的，闹着玩的 | |
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26
unaware
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| a.不知道的，未意识到的 | |
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27
outraging
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| 引起…的义愤，激怒( outrage的现在分词 ) | |
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28
deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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29
frantic
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| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
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30
darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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31
scramble
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| v.爬行，攀爬，杂乱蔓延，碎片，片段，废料 | |
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32
shrieks
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| n.尖叫声( shriek的名词复数 )v.尖叫( shriek的第三人称单数 ) | |
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33
undertakings
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| 企业( undertaking的名词复数 )； 保证； 殡仪业； 任务 | |
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34
scrupulous
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| adj.审慎的，小心翼翼的，完全的，纯粹的 | |
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35
distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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36
fluency
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| n.流畅，雄辩，善辩 | |
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37
basting
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| n.疏缝；疏缝的针脚；疏缝用线；涂油v.打( baste的现在分词 )；粗缝；痛斥；（烤肉等时）往上抹[浇]油 | |
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38
slander
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| n./v.诽谤，污蔑 | |
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slanders
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| 诽谤，诋毁( slander的名词复数 ) | |
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40
perjury
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| n.伪证；伪证罪 | |
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41
postponed
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| vt.& vi.延期，缓办，（使）延迟vt.把…放在次要地位；[语]把…放在后面（或句尾）vi.（疟疾等）延缓发作（或复发） | |
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42
labor
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| n.劳动，努力，工作，劳工；分娩；vi.劳动，努力，苦干；vt.详细分析；麻烦 | |
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43
sociable
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| adj.好交际的，友好的，合群的 | |
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44
overflowing
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| n. 溢出物,溢流 adj. 充沛的，充满的 动词overflow的现在分词形式 | |
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45
pensive
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| a.沉思的,哀思的,忧沉的 | |
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46
gorilla
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| n.大猩猩，暴徒，打手 | |
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47
distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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48
dispensing
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| v.分配( dispense的现在分词 )；施与；配（药） | |
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49
remittances
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| n.汇寄( remittance的名词复数 )；汇款，汇款额 | |
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50
remittance
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| n.汇款，寄款，汇兑 | |
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51
scoffed
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| 嘲笑，嘲弄( scoff的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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52
judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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53
sane
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| adj.心智健全的，神志清醒的，明智的，稳健的 | |
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54
outraged
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| a.震惊的，义愤填膺的 | |
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55
spoke
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| 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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56
solicitous
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| adj.热切的，挂念的 | |
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57
inflicted
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| 把…强加给，使承受，遭受( inflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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58
spun
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| v.纺，杜撰，急转身 | |
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59
yarns
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| n.纱( yarn的名词复数 )；纱线；奇闻漫谈；旅行轶事 | |
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60
joyfully
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| adv. 喜悦地, 高兴地 | |
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61
hood
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| n.头巾，兜帽，覆盖；v.罩上，以头巾覆盖 | |
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62
sarcastic
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| adj.讥讽的，讽刺的，嘲弄的 | |
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63
wrung
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| 绞( wring的过去式和过去分词 )； 握紧（尤指别人的手）； 把（湿衣服）拧干； 绞掉（水） | |
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64
sobbed
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| 哭泣，啜泣( sob的过去式和过去分词 )； 哭诉，呜咽地说 | |
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65
stertorously
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66
tremor
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| n.震动，颤动，战栗，兴奋，地震 | |
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67
bereaved
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| 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） | |
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68
soothe
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| v.安慰；使平静；使减轻；缓和；奉承 | |
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