第 3 节
作者:月寒      更新:2024-04-14 09:15      字数:9321
  had for himself。 His great gift of eyesight and observation failed him in his
  judgments   upon   his   friends。   If   only   you   loved   him;   you   could   get   your
  biggest   failures   of   conduct   somewhat   more   than   forgiven;   without   any
  trouble at all。 And of your mole…hill virtues he made splendid mountains。
  He only  interfered   with you   when   he was   afraid   that you   were  going to
  hurt some one else whom he also loved。 Once I had a telegram from him
  which urged me for heaven's sake not to forget that the next day was my
  wife's birthday。 Whether I had forgotten it or not is my own private affair。
  And when I declared that I had read a story which I liked very; very much
  and was going to write to the author to tell him so; he always kept at me
  till the letter was written。
  Have I said that he had no habits? Every day; when he was away from
  her;   he   wrote   a   letter   to   his   mother;   and   no   swift   scrawl   at   that;   for;   no
  matter how crowded and eventful the day; he wrote her the best letter that
  he could write。 That was the only habit he had。 He was a slave to it。
  Once I saw R。 H。 D。 greet his old mother after an absence。 They threw
  their arms about each other and rocked to and fro for a long time。 And it
  hadn't been a long absence at that。 No ocean had been between them; her
  heart had not been in her mouth with the thought that he was under fire; or
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  about to become a victim of jungle fever。 He had only been away upon a
  little   expedition;   a   mere   matter   of   digging   for   buried   treasure。   We   had
  found the treasure; part of it a chipmunk's skull and a broken arrow…head;
  and R。 H。 D。 had been absent from his mother for nearly two hours and a
  half。
  I set about this article with the knowledge that I must fail to give more
  than a few hints of what he was like。 There isn't much more space at my
  command; and there were so many sides to him that to touch upon them
  all would fill a volume。 There were the patriotism and the Americanism; as
  much a part of him as the marrow of his bones; and from which sprang all
  those brilliant headlong letters to the newspapers; those trenchant assaults
  upon evil…doers in public office; those quixotic efforts to redress wrongs;
  and    those    simple    and   dexterous    exposures      of  this  and   that;  from    an
  absolutely   unexpected   point   of   view。   He   was   a   quickener   of   the   public
  conscience。 That people are beginning to think tolerantly of preparedness;
  that a nation which at one time looked yellow as a dandelion is beginning
  to turn Red; White; and Blue is owing in some measure to him。
  R。 H。  D。  thought that   war  was unspeakably terrible。  He  thought   that
  peace   at   the   price   which   our   country   has   been   forced   to   pay   for   it   was
  infinitely worse。 And he was one of those who have gradually taught this
  country to see the matter in the same way。
  I must come to a close now; and I have hardly scratched the surface of
  my   subject。   And   that   is   a  failure   which    I   feel   keenly   but   which  was
  inevitable。 As R。 H。 D。 himself used to say of those deplorable 〃personal
  interviews〃 which appear in the newspapers; and in which the important
  person   interviewed   is   made   by   the   cub   reporter   to   say   things   which   he
  never said; or thought; or dreamed of〃You can't expect a fifteen… dollar…
  a…week brain to describe a thousand…dollar…a…week brain。〃
  There is; however; one question which I should attempt to answer。 No
  two men are alike。 In what one salient thing did R。 H。 D。 differ from other
  mendiffer in his personal character and in the character of his work? And
  that   question   I   can   answer   offhand;   without   taking   thought;   and   be   sure
  that I am right。
  An   analysis of   his   works;  a  study  of   that   book   which   the   Recording
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  Angel   keeps   will   show   one   dominant   characteristic   to   which   even   his
  brilliancy;   his   clarity   of   style;   his   excellent   mechanism   as   a   writer   are
  subordinate; and to which; as a man; even his sense of duty; his powers of
  affection; of forgiveness; of loving…kindness are subordinate; too; and that
  characteristic is cleanliness。
  The biggest force for cleanliness that was in the world has gone out of
  the worldgone to that Happy Hunting Ground where 〃Nobody hunts us
  and there is nothing to hunt。〃
  GOUVERNEUR MORRIS。
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  CHAPTER 1 THE RED CROSS
  GIRL
  When   Spencer   Flagg   laid   the   foundation…stone   for   the   new   million…
  dollar wing he was adding to the Flagg Home for Convalescents; on the
  hills above Greenwich; the New York REPUBLIC sent Sam Ward to cover
  the   story;   and   with   him   Redding   to   take   photographs。   It   was   a   crisp;
  beautiful day in October; full of sunshine and the joy of living; and from
  the great lawn in front of the Home you could see half over Connecticut
  and across the waters of the Sound to Oyster Bay。
  Upon Sam Ward; however; the beauties of Nature were wasted。 When;
  the night previous; he had been given the assignment he had sulked; and
  he was still sulking。 Only a year before he had graduated into New York
  from a small up…state college and a small up…state newspaper; but already
  he was a 〃star〃 man; and Hewitt; the city editor; humored him。
  〃What's   the   matter   with   the   story?〃   asked   the   city   editor。   〃With   the
  speeches and lists of names it ought to run to two columns。〃
  〃Suppose it does!〃 exclaimed Ward; 〃anybody can collect type…written
  speeches and lists of names。 That's a messenger boy's job。 Where's there
  any heart…interest in a Wall Street broker like Flagg waving a silver trowel
  and   singing;   'See   what   a   good   boy   am!'   and   a   lot   of   grownup   men   in
  pinafores saying; 'This stone is well   and truly laid。' Where's the story  in
  that?〃
  〃When I was a reporter;〃 declared the city editor; 〃I used to be glad to
  get a day in the country。〃
  〃Because   you'd   never   lived   in   the   country;〃   returned   Sam。   〃If   you'd
  wasted twenty…six years in the backwoods; as I did; you'd know that every
  minute you spend outside of New York you're robbing yourself。〃
  〃Of   what?〃   demanded   the   city   editor。   〃There's   nothing   to   New York
  except cement; iron girders; noise; and zinc garbage cans。 You never see
  the   sun   in   New   York;   you   never   see   the   moon   unless   you   stand   in   the
  middle   of   the   street   and   bend   backward。   We   never   see   flowers   in   New
  York except on the women's hats。 We never see the women except in cages
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  in   the   elevatorsthey   spend   their   lives   shooting   up   and   down   elevator
  shafts in department stores; in apartment houses; in office buildings。 And
  we   never   see   children   in   New   York   because   the   janitors   won't   let   the
  women who live in elevators have children! Don't talk to me! New York's
  a Little Nemo nightmare。 It's a joke。 It's an insult!〃
  〃How curious!〃 said Sam。 〃Now I see why they took you off the street
  and made you a city editor。 I don't agree with anything you say。 Especially
  are you wrong about the women。 They ought to be caged in elevators; but
  they're not。 Instead; they flash past you in the street; they shine upon you
  from boxes in the theatre; they frown at you from the tops of buses; they
  smile at you from the cushions of a taxi; across restaurant tables under red
  candle   shades;   when   you   offer   them   a   seat   in   the   subway。   They   are   the
  only thing in New York that gives me any trouble。〃
  The city editor sighed。 〃How young you are!〃 he exclaimed。 〃However;
  to…morrow   you   will   be   free   from   your   only   trouble。   There   will   be   few
  women        at   the   celebration;     and    they    will    be   interested     only    in
  convalescentsand you do not look like a convalescent。〃
  Sam Ward sat at the outer edge of the crowd of overdressed females
  and overfed men; and; with a sardonic smile; listened to Flagg telling his
  assembled friends and sycophants how glad he was they were there to see
  him give away a million dollars。