第 20 节
作者:
冬冬 更新:2021-02-20 15:54 字数:9322
When I had gone through it half a dozen times with such added
variations and trills as I could command; and had two of the children
hopping about in the yard; and the forlorn man tapping his toe to the tune;
and a smile on the face of the forlorn woman; I wound up with a rush and
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then; as if I could hold myself in no longer (and I couldn't either!); I
suddenly burst out:
Yankee doodle dandy! Yankee doodle dandy! Mind the music and the
step; And with the girls be handy。
It may seem surprising; but I think I can understand why it was
when I looked up at the woman in the doorway there were tears in her
eyes!
〃Do you know 'John Brown's Body'?〃 eagerly inquired the little girl
with the dipper; and then; as if she had done something quite bold and
improper; she blushed and edged toward the doorway。
〃How does it go?〃 I asked; and one of the bold lads in the yard
instantly puckered his lips to show me; and immediately they were all
trying it。
〃Here goes;〃 said I; and for the next few minutes; and in my very best
style; I hung Jeff Davis on the sour apple…tree; and I sent the soul of John
Brown marching onward with an altogether unnecessary number of
hallelujahs。
I think sometimes that peoplewhole families of 'emliterally perish
for want of a good; hearty; whole…souled; mouth…opening; throat…stretching;
side…aching laugh。 They begin to think themselves the abused of creation;
they begin to advise with their livers and to hate their neighbours; and the
whole world becomes a miserable dark blue place quite unfit for human
habitation。 Well; all this is often only the result of a neglect to exercise
properly those muscles of the body (and of the soul) which have to do with
honest laughter。
I've never supposed I was an especially amusing person; but before I
got through with it I had the Clark family well loosened up with laughter;
although I wasn't quite sure some of the time whether Mrs。 Clark was
laughing or crying。 I had them all laughing and talking; asking questions
and answering them as though I were an old and valued neighbour。
Isn't it odd how unconvinced we often are by the crises in the lives of
other people? They seem to us trivial or unimportant; but the fact is; the
crises in the life of a boy; for example; or of a poor man; are as
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commanding as the crises in the life of the greatest statesman or
millionaire; for they involve equally the whole personality; the entire
prospects。
The Clark family; I soon learned; had lost its pig。 A trivial matter; you
say? I wonder if anything is ever trivial。 A year of poor crops; sickness;
low prices; discouragement and; at the end of it; on top of it all; the
cherished pig had died!
From all accounts (and the man on the porch quite lost his apathy in
telling me about it) it must have been a pig of remarkable virtues and
attainments; a paragon of pigs in whom had been bound up the many
possibilities of new shoes for the children; a hat for the lady; a new pair of
overalls for the gentleman; and I know not what other kindred luxuries。 I
do not think; indeed; I ever had the portrait of a pig drawn for me with
quite such ardent enthusiasm of detail; and the more questions I asked the
more eager the story; until finally it became necessary for me to go to the
barn; the cattle…pen; the pig…pen and the chicken…house; that I might
visualize more clearly the scene of the tragedy。 The whole family trooped
after us like a classic chorus; but Mr。 Clark himself kept the centre of the
stage。
How plainly I could read upon the face of the land the story of this hill
farmer and his meagre existencehis ill…directed effort to wring a poor
living for his family from these upland fields; his poverty; and; above all;
his evident lack of knowledge of his own calling。 Added to these things;
and perhaps the most depressing of all his difficulties; was the utter
loneliness of the task; the feeling that it mattered little to any one whether
the Clark family worked or not; or indeed whether they lived or died。 A
perfectly good American family was here being wasted; with the precious
land they lived on; because no one had taken the trouble。 to make them
feel that they were a part of this Great American Job。
As we went back to the house; a freckled…nosed neighbour's boy
came in at the gate。
〃A letter for you; Mr。 Clark;〃 said he。 〃I brought it up with our mail。〃
〃A letter!〃 exclaimed Mrs。 Clark。
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〃A letter!〃 echoed at least three of the children in unison。
〃Probably a dun from Brewster;〃 said Mr。 Clark discouragingly。
I felt a curious sensation about the heart; and an eagerness of interest I
have rarely experienced。 I had no idea what a mere lettera mere
unopened unread letterwould mean to a family like this。
〃It has no stamp on it!〃 exclaimed the older girl。
Mrs。 Clark turned it over wonderingly in her hands。 Mr。 Clark hastily
put on a pair of steel…bowed spectacles。
〃Let me see it;〃 he said; and when he also had inspected it minutely he
solemnly tore open the envelope and drew forth my letter。
'I assure you I never awaited the reading of any writing of mine with
such breathless interest。 How would they take it? Would they catch the
meaning that I meant to convey? And would they suspect me of having
written it?
Mr。 Clark sat on the porch and read the letter slowly through to the end;
turned the sheet over and examined it carefully; and then began reading it
again to himself; Mrs。 Clark leaning over his shoulder。
〃What does it mean?〃 asked Mr。 Clark。
〃It's too good to be true;〃 said Mrs。 Clark with a sigh。
I don't know how long the discussion might have continuedprobably
for days or weekshad not the older girl; now flushed of face and rather
pretty; looked at me and said breathlessly (she was as sharp as a briar):
〃You wrote it。〃
I stood the battery of all their eyes for a moment; smiling and rather
excited。
〃Yes;〃 I said earnestly; 〃I wrote it; and I mean every word of it。〃
I had anticipated some shock of suspicion and inquiry; but to my
surprise it was accepted as simply as a neighbourly good morning。 I
suppose the mystery of it was eclipsed by my astonishing presence there
upon the scene with my tin whistle。
At any rate; it was a changed; eager; interested family which now
occupied the porch of that dilapidated farmhouse。 And immediately we
fell into a lively discussion of crops and farming; and indeed the whole
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farm question; in which I found both the man and his wife singularly
acutesharpened upon the stone of hard experience。
Indeed; I found right here; as I have many times found among our
American farmers; an intelligence (a literacy growing out of what I believe
to be improper education) which was better able to discuss the problems of
rural life than to grapple with and solve them。 A dull; illiterate Polish
farmer; I have found; will sometimes succeed much better at the job of life
than his American neighbour。
Talk with almost any man for half an hour; and you will find that his
conversation; like an old…fashioned song; has a regularly recurrent chorus。
I soon discovered Mr。 Clark's chorus。
〃Now; if only I had a little cash;〃 he sang; or; 〃If I had a few dollars; I
could do so and so。〃
Why; he was as helplessly; dependent upon money as any soft…handed
millionairess。 He considered himself poor and helpless because he lacked
dollars; whereas people are