The other day a poet friend of mine, who has lived in close communion with nature all his life, wrote a poem and took it to an editor.
It was a living pastoral, full of the genuine breath of the fields, the song of birds, and the pleasant chatter2 of trickling3 streams.
When the poet called again to see about it, with hopes of a beefsteak dinner in his heart, it was handed back to him with the comment:
"Too artificial."
Several of us met over spaghetti and Dutchess County chianti, and swallowed indignation with slippery forkfuls.
And there we dug a pit for the editor. With us was Conant, a well-arrived writer of fiction - a man who had trod on asphalt all his life, and who had never looked upon bucolic4 scenes except with sensations of disgust from the windows of express trains.
Conant wrote a poem and called it "The Doe and the Brook5." It was a fine specimen6 of the kind of work you would expect from a poet who had strayed with Amaryllis only as far as the florist's windows, and whose sole ornithological7 discussion had been carried on with a waiter. Conant signed this poem, and we sent it to the same editor.
But this has very little to do with the story.
Just as the editor was reading the first line of the poem, on the next morning, a being stumbled off the West Shore ferryboat, and loped slowly up Forty-second Street.
The invader8 was a young man with light blue eyes, a hanging lip and hair the exact color of the little orphan's (afterward discovered to be the earl's daughter) in one of Mr. Blaney's plays. His trousers were corduroy, his coat short-sleeved, with buttons in the middle of his back. One bootleg was outside the corduroys. You looked expectantly, though in vain, at his straw hat for ear holes, its shape inaugurating the suspicion that it had been ravaged10 from a former equine possessor. In his hand was a valise - description of it is an impossible task; a Boston man would not have carried his lunch and law books to his office in it. And above one ear, in his hair, was a wisp of hay - the rustic11's letter of credit, his badge of innocence12, the last clinging touch of the Garden of Eden lingering to shame the gold-brick men.
Knowingly, smilingly, the city crowds passed him by. They saw the raw stranger stand in the gutter13 and stretch his neck at the tall buildings. At this they ceased to smile, and even to look at him. It had been done so often. A few glanced at the antique valise to see what Coney "attraction" or brand of chewing gum he might be thus dinning14 into his memory. But for the most part he was ignored. Even the newsboys looked bored when he scampered15 like a circus clown out of the way of cabs and street cars.
At Eighth Avenue stood "Bunco Harry16," with his dyed mustache and shiny, good-natured eyes. Harry was too good an artist not to be pained at the sight of an actor overdoing17 his part. He edged up to the countryman, who had stopped to open his mouth at a jewelry18 store window, and shook his head.
"Too thick, pal," he said, critically - "too thick by a couple of inches. I don't know what your lay is; but you've got the properties too thick. That hay, now - why, they don't even allow that on Proctor's circuit any more."
"I don't understand you, mister," said the green one. "I'm not lookin' for any circus. I've just run down from Ulster County to look at the town, bein' that the hayin's over with. Gosh! but it's a whopper. I thought Poughkeepsie was some punkins; but this here town is five times as big."
"Oh, well," said "Bunco Harry," raising his eyebrows19, "I didn't mean to butt9 in. You don't have to tell. I thought you ought to tone down a little, so I tried to put you wise. Wish you success at your graft20, whatever it is. Come and have a drink, anyhow."
"I wouldn't mind having a glass of lager beer," acknowledged the other.
They went to a cafe frequented by men with smooth faces and shifty eyes, and sat at their drinks.
"I'm glad I come across you, mister," said Haylocks. "How'd you like to play a game or two of seven-up? I've got the keerds."
He fished them out of Noah's valise - a rare, inimitable deck, greasy22 with bacon suppers and grimy with the soil of cornfields.
"Bunco Harry" laughed loud and briefly23.
"Not for me, sport," he said, firmly. "I don't go against that make-up of yours for a cent. But I still say you've overdone24 it. The Reubs haven't dressed like that since '79. I doubt if you could work Brooklyn for a key-winding watch with that layout."
"Oh, you needn't think I ain't got the money," boasted Haylocks. He drew forth25 a tightly rolled mass of bills as large as a teacup, and laid it on the table.
"Got that for my share of grandmother's farm," he announced. "There's $950 in that roll. Thought I'd come to the city and look around for a likely business to go into."
"Bunco Harry" took up the roll of money and looked at it with almost respect in his smiling eyes.
"I've seen worse," he said, critically. "But you'll never do it in them clothes. You want to get light tan shoes and a black suit and a straw hat with a colored band, and talk a good deal about Pittsburg and freight differentials, and drink sherry for breakfast in order to work off phony stuff like that."
"What's his line?" asked two or three shifty-eyed men of "Bunco Harry" after Haylocks had gathered up his impugned26 money and departed.
"The queer, I guess," said Harry. "Or else he's one of Jerome's men. Or some guy with a new graft. He's too much hayseed. Maybe that his - I wonder now - oh, no, it couldn't have been real money."
Haylocks wandered on. Thirst probably assailed27 him again, for he dived into a dark groggery on a side street and bought beer. At first sight of him their eyes brightened; but when his insistent28 and exaggerated rusticity29 became apparent their expressions changed to wary30 suspicion.
Haylocks swung his valise across the bar.
"Keep that a while for me, mister," he said, chewing at the end of a virulent31 claybank cigar. "I'll be back after I knock around a spell. And keep your eye on it, for there's $950 inside of it, though maybe you wouldn't think so to look at me."
Somewhere outside a phonograph struck up a band piece, and Haylocks was off for it, his coat-tail buttons flopping32 in the middle of his back.
"Divvy, Mike," said the men hanging upon the bar, winking33 openly at one another.
"Honest, now," said the bartender, kicking the valise to one side. "You don't think I'd fall to that, do you? Anybody can see he ain't no jay. One of McAdoo's come-on squad34, I guess. He's a shine if he made himself up. There ain't no parts of the country now where they dress like that since they run rural free delivery to Providence35, Rhode Island. If he's got nine-fifty in that valise it's a ninety-eight cent Waterbury that's stopped at ten minutes to ten."
When Haylocks had exhausted36 the resources of Mr. Edison to amuse he returned for his valise. And then down Broadway he gallivanted, culling37 the sights with his eager blue eyes. But still and evermore Broadway rejected him with curt38 glances and sardonic39 smiles. He was the oldest of the "gags" that the city must endure. He was so flagrantly impossible, so ultra rustic, so exaggerated beyond the most freakish products of the barnyard, the hayfield and the vaudeville40 stage, that he excited only weariness and suspicion. And the wisp of hay in his hair was so genuine, so fresh and redolent of the meadows, so clamorously rural that even a shellgame man would have put up his peas and folded his table at the sight of it.
Haylocks seated himself upon a flight of stone steps and once more exhumed41 his roll of yellow-backs from the valise. The outer one, a twenty, he shucked off and beckoned42 to a newsboy.
"Son," said he, "run somewhere and get this changed for me. I'm mighty43 nigh out of chicken feed. I guess you'll get a nickel if you'll hurry up."
A hurt look appeared through the dirt on the newsy's face.
"Aw, watchert'ink! G'wan and get yer funny bill changed yerself. Dey ain't no farm clothes yer got on. G'wan wit yer stage money."
On a corner lounged a keen-eyed steerer for a gambling-house. He was Haylocks, and his expression suddenly grew cold and virtuous44.
"Mister," said the rural one. "I've heard of places in this here town where a fellow could have a good game of old sledge45 or peg46 a card at keno. I got $950 in this valise, and I come down from old Ulster to see the sights. Know where a fellow could get action on about $9 or $10? I'm goin' to have some sport, and then maybe I'll buy out a business of some kind."
The steerer looked pained, and investigated a white speck47 on his left forefinger48 nail.
"Cheese it, old man," he murmured, reproachfully. "The Central Office must be bughouse to send you out looking like such a gillie. You couldn't get within two blocks of a sidewalk crap game in them Tony Pastor1 props49. The recent Mr. Scotty from Death Valley has got you beat a crosstown block in the way of Elizabethan scenery and mechanical accessories. Let it be skiddoo for yours. Nay50, I know of no gilded51 halls where one may bet a patrol wagon52 on the ace21."
Rebuffed once again by the great city that is so swift to detect artificialities, Haylocks sat upon the curb53 and presented his thoughts to hold a conference.
"It's my clothes," said he; "durned if it ain't. They think I'm a hayseed and won't have nothin' to do with me. Nobody never made fun of this hat in Ulster County. I guess if you want folks to notice you in New York you must dress up like they do."
So Haylocks went shopping in the bazaars54 where men spake through their noses and rubbed their hands and ran the tape line ecstatically over the buldge in his inside pocket where reposed55 a red nubbin of corn with an even number of rows. And messengers bearing parcels and boxes streamed to his hotel on Broadway within the lights of Long Acre.
At 9 o'clock in the evening one descended56 to the sidewalk whom Ulster County would have foresworn. Bright tan were his shoes; his hat the latest block. His light gray trousers were deeply creased57; a gay blue silk handkerchief flapped from the breast pocket of his elegant English walking coat. His collar might have graced a laundry window; his blond hair was trimmed close; the wisp of hay was gone.
For an instant he stood, resplendent, with the leisurely58 air of a boulevardier concocting59 in his mind the route for his evening pleasures. And then he turned down the gay, bright street with the easy and graceful60 tread of a millionaire.
But in the instant that he had paused the wisest and keenest eyes in the city had enveloped61 him in their field of vision. A stout62 man with gray eyes picked two of his friends with a lift of his eyebrows from the row of loungers in front of the hotel.
"The juiciest jay I've seen in six months," said the man with gray eyes. "Come along."
It was half-past eleven when a man galloped63 into the West Forty-seventh Street Police Station with the story of his wrongs.
"Nine hundred and fifty dollars," he gasped64, "all my share of grandmother's farm."
The desk seargeant wrung65 from him the name Jabez Bulltongue, of Locust66 Valley farm, Ulster County, and then bagan to take descriptions of the strong-arm gentlemen.
When Conant went to see the editor about the fate of his poem, he was received over the head of the office boy into the inner office that is decorated with the statuettes by Rodin and J. G. Brown.
"When I read the first line of 'The Doe and the Brook,'" said the editor, "I knew it to be the work of one whose life has been heart to heart with Nature. The finished art of the line did not blind me to that fact. To use a somewhat homely67 comparison, it was as if a wild, free child of the woods and fields were to don the garb68 of fashion and walk down Broadway. Beneath the apparel the man would show."
"Thanks," said Conant. "I suppose the check will be round on Thursday, as usual."
The morals of this story have somehow gotten mixed. You can take your choice of "Stay on the Farm" or "Don't Write Poetry."
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pastor
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| n.牧师，牧人 | |
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chatter
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| vi.／n.喋喋不休；短促尖叫；(牙齿)打战 | |
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trickling
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| n.油画底色含油太多而成泡沫状突起v.滴( trickle的现在分词 )；淌；使)慢慢走；缓慢移动 | |
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bucolic
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| adj.乡村的；牧羊的 | |
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brook
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| n.小河，溪；v.忍受，容让 | |
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specimen
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| n.样本，标本 | |
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ornithological
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| adj.鸟类学的 | |
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invader
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| n.侵略者，侵犯者，入侵者 | |
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butt
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| n.笑柄；烟蒂；枪托；臀部；v.用头撞或顶 | |
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ravaged
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| 毁坏( ravage的过去式和过去分词 )； 蹂躏； 劫掠； 抢劫 | |
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rustic
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| adj.乡村的，有乡村特色的；n.乡下人，乡巴佬 | |
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innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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gutter
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| n.沟，街沟，水槽，檐槽，贫民窟 | |
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dinning
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| vt.喧闹（din的现在分词形式） | |
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scampered
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| 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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harry
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| vt.掠夺，蹂躏，使苦恼 | |
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overdoing
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| v.做得过分( overdo的现在分词 )；太夸张；把…煮得太久；（工作等）过度 | |
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jewelry
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| n.（jewllery）（总称）珠宝 | |
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eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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graft
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| n.移植，嫁接，艰苦工作，贪污；v.移植，嫁接 | |
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ace
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| n.A牌；发球得分；佼佼者；adj.杰出的 | |
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greasy
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| adj. 多脂的，油脂的 | |
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briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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overdone
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| v.做得过分( overdo的过去分词 )；太夸张；把…煮得太久；（工作等）过度 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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impugned
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| v.非难，指谪( impugn的过去式和过去分词 )；对…有怀疑 | |
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assailed
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| v.攻击( assail的过去式和过去分词 )；困扰；质问；毅然应对 | |
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insistent
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| adj.迫切的，坚持的 | |
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rusticity
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| n.乡村的特点、风格或气息 | |
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wary
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| adj.谨慎的，机警的，小心的 | |
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virulent
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| adj.有毒的，有恶意的，充满敌意的 | |
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flopping
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| n.贬调v.（指书、戏剧等）彻底失败( flop的现在分词 )；（因疲惫而）猛然坐下；（笨拙地、不由自主地或松弛地）移动或落下；砸锅 | |
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winking
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| n.瞬眼，目语v.使眼色( wink的现在分词 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
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squad
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| n.班，小队，小团体；vt.把…编成班或小组 | |
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providence
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| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
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exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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culling
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| n.选择，大批物品中剔出劣质货v.挑选，剔除( cull的现在分词 ) | |
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curt
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| adj.简短的，草率的 | |
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sardonic
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| adj.嘲笑的，冷笑的，讥讽的 | |
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vaudeville
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| n.歌舞杂耍表演 | |
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exhumed
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| v.挖出，发掘出( exhume的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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beckoned
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| v.（用头或手的动作）示意，召唤( beckon的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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virtuous
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| adj.有品德的，善良的，贞洁的，有效力的 | |
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sledge
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| n.雪橇，大锤；v.用雪橇搬运，坐雪橇往 | |
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peg
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| n.木栓，木钉；vt.用木钉钉，用短桩固定 | |
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speck
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| n.微粒，小污点，小斑点 | |
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forefinger
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| n.食指 | |
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props
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| 小道具； 支柱( prop的名词复数 )； 支持者； 道具； （橄榄球中的）支柱前锋 | |
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nay
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| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
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gilded
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| a.镀金的，富有的 | |
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wagon
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| n.四轮马车，手推车，面包车；无盖运货列车 | |
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curb
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| n.场外证券市场，场外交易；vt.制止，抑制 | |
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bazaars
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| （东方国家的）市场( bazaar的名词复数 )； 义卖； 义卖市场； （出售花哨商品等的）小商品市场 | |
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reposed
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| v.将（手臂等）靠在某人（某物）上( repose的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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creased
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| （使…）起折痕，弄皱( crease的过去式和过去分词 )； （皮肤）皱起，使起皱纹； 皱皱巴巴 | |
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leisurely
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| adj.悠闲的；从容的，慢慢的 | |
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concocting
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| v.将（尤指通常不相配合的）成分混合成某物( concoct的现在分词 )；调制；编造；捏造 | |
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graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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enveloped
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| v.包围，笼罩，包住( envelop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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galloped
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| （使马）飞奔，奔驰( gallop的过去式和过去分词 )； 快速做[说]某事 | |
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gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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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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locust
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| n.蝗虫；洋槐，刺槐 | |
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homely
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| adj.家常的，简朴的；不漂亮的 | |
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garb
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| n.服装，装束 | |
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