the friendly road(友好的路)-第42节
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about； and a pleasant stream fringed with alders in the little valley。 And
out of the chimney into the sweet； still evening air rises the slow white
smoke of the supper…fire。
I turned from the main road； and climbed the fence and walked across
my upper field to the old wood lane。 The air was heavy and sweet with
clover blossoms； and along the fences I could see that the raspberry bushes
were ripening their fruit。
So I came down the lane and heard the comfortable grunting of pigs in
the pasture lot and saw the calves licking one another as they stood at the
gate。
〃How they've grown！〃 I said。
I stopped at the corner of the barn for a moment。 From within I heard
the rattling of milk in a pail （a fine sound）； and heard a man's voice
saying：
〃Whoa； there！ Stiddy now！〃
〃Dick's milking；〃 I said。
So I stepped in at the doorway。
〃Lord； Mr。 Grayson！〃 exclaimed Dick； rising instantly and clasping my
hand like a long…lost brother。
〃I'm glad to see you！〃
〃I'm glad to see YOU！〃
The warm smell of the new milk； the pleasant sound of animals
stepping about in the stable； the old mare reaching her long head over the
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stanchion to welcome me； and nipping at my fingers when I rubbed her
nose
And there was the old house with the late sun upon it； the vines
hanging green over the porch； Harriet's trim flower bedI crept along
quietly。 to the corner。 The kitchen door stood open。
〃Well； Harriet！〃 I said； stepping inside。
〃Mercy！ David！〃
I have rarely known Harriet to be in quite such a reckless mood。 She
kept thinking of a new kind of sauce or jam for supper （I think there were
seven； or were there twelve？ on the table before I got through）。 And there
was a new rhubarb pie such as only Harriet can make； just brown enough
on top； and not too brown； with just the right sort of hills and hummocks
in the crust； and here and there little sugary bubbles where a suggestion of
the goodness came throughsuch a pie！ and such an appetite to go with
it！
〃Harriet；〃 I said； 〃you're spoiling me。 Haven't you heard how
dangerous it is to set such a supper as this before a man who is perishing
with hunger？ Have you no mercy for me？〃
This remark produced the most extraordinary effect。 Harriet was at
that moment standing in the corner near the pump。 Her shoulders suddenly
began to shake convulsively。
〃She's so glad I'm home that she can't help laughing；〃 I thought； which
shows how penetrating I really am。
She was crying。
〃Why； Harriet！〃 I exclaimed。
〃Hungry！〃 she burst out； 〃and j…joking about it！〃
I couldn't say a single word； somethingit must have been a piece of
the rhubarb piestuck in my throat。 So I sat there and watched her moving
quietly about in that immaculate kitchen。 After a time I walked over to
where she stood by the table and put my arm around her quickly。 She half
turned her head； in her quick； businesslike way。 I noted how firm and
clean and sweet her face was。
〃Harriet；〃 I said； 〃you grow younger every year。〃
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No response。
〃Harriet；〃 I said； 〃I haven't seen a single person anywhere on my
journey that I like as much as I do you。〃
The quick blood came up。
〃TherethereDavid！〃 she said。
So I stepped away。
〃And as for rhubarb pie； Harriet〃
When I first came to my farm years ago there were mornings when I
woke up with the strong impression that I had just been hearing the most
exquisite sounds of music。 I don't know whether this is at all a common
experience； but in those days （and farther back in my early boyhood） I had
it frequently。 It did not seem exactly like music either； but was rather a
sense of harmony； so wonderful； so pervasive that it cannot be described。 I
have not had it so often in recent years； but on the morning after I reached
home it came to me as I awakened with a strange depth and sweetness。 I
lay for a moment there in my clean bed。 The morning sun was up and
coming in cheerfully through the vines at the window； a gentle breeze
stirred the clean white curtains； and I could smell even there the odours of
the garden。
I wish I had room to tell； but I cannot； of all the crowded experiences
of that day； the renewal of acquaintance with the fields； the cattle； the
fowls； the bees； of my long talks with Harriet and Dick Sheridan； who had
cared for my work while I was away； of the wonderful visit of the Scotch
Preacher； of Horace's shrewd and whimsical comments upon the general
absurdity of the head of the Grayson familyoh； of a thousand thingsand
how when I went into my study and took up the nearest book in my
favourite caseit chanced to be 〃The Bible in Spain〃it opened of itself at
one of my favourite sages； the one beginning：
〃Mistos amande； I am content〃
So it's all over！ It has been a great experience； and it seems to me
now that I have a firmer grip on life； and a firmer trust in that Power
which orders the ages。 In a book I read not long ago； called 〃A Modern
Utopia；〃 the writer provides in his imaginary perfect state of society a
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class of leaders known as Samurai。 And； from time to time； it is the
custom of these Samurai to cut themselves loose from the crowding world
of men； and with packs on their backs go away alone to far places in the
deserts or on Arctic ice caps。 I am convinced that every man needs some
such change as this； an opportunity to think things out； to get a new grip
on life； and a new hold on God。 But not for me the Arctic ice cap or the
desert！ I choose the Friendly Roadand all the mon people who travel in it
or live along itI choose even the busy city at the end of it。
I assure you； friend； that it is a wonderful thing for a man to cast
himself freely for a time upon the world； not knowing where his next meal
is coming from； nor where he is going to sleep for the night。 It is a
surprising readjuster of values。 I paid my way； I think； throughout my
pilgrimage； but I discovered that stamped metal is far from being the
world's only true coin。 As a matter of fact； there are many things that men
prize more highlybecause they are rarer and more precious。
My friend； if you should chance yourself some day to follow the
Friendly Road； you may catch a fleeting glimpse of a man in a rusty hat；
carrying a gray bag； and sometimes humming a little song under his breath
for the joy of being there。 And it may actually happen； if you stop him；
that he will take a tin whistle from his bag and play for you； 〃Money
Musk；〃 or 〃Old Dan Tucker；〃 or he may produce a battered old volume of
Montaigne from which he will read you a passage。 If such an adventure
should befall you； know that you have met
Your friend；
David Grayson。
P。 S。 Harriet bemoans most of all the unsolved mystery of the sign man。
But it doesn't bother me in the least。 I'm glad now I never found him。 The
poet sings his song and goes his way。 If we sought him out how horribly
disappointed we might be！ We might find him shaving； or eating sausage；
or drinking a bottle of beer。 We might find him shaggy and unkempt where
we imagined him beautiful； weak where we thought him strong； dull
where we thought him brilliant。 Take then the vintage of his heart and let
him go。 As for me； I'm glad some mystery is left in this world。 A thousand
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signs on my roadways are still as unexplainable； as mysterious； and as
beguiling as this。 And I can close my narrative with no better motto for
tired spirits than that of the country roadside：
＇ REST ＇
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