father and son-第20节
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h doth most easily beset me'。 Bess was insignificant； and vulgarized by domestic cares。 But Mary Grace was a delightful creature。The Burmingtons lived in what was almost the only old house surviving in the village。 It was an extraordinary construction of two storeys； with vast rooms； and winding passages； and surprising changes of level。 The sisters were poor； but very industrious； and never in anything like want； they sold； as I have said； crockery； and they took in washing； and did a little fine needlework； and sold the produce of a great； vague garden at the back。 In process of time； the elder sisters took a young woman； whose name was Drusilla Elliott； to live with them as servant and companion； she was a converted person； worshipping with a kindred sect； the Bible Christians。 I remember being much interested in hearing how Bess； before her marriage； became converted。 Mary Grace； on account of her infirm health； slept alone in one room； in another； of vast size； stood a family fourposter； where Ann slept with Drusilla Elliott； and another bed in the same room took Bess。 The sisters and their friend had been constantly praying that Bess might 'find peace'； for she was still a stranger to salvation。 One night； she suddenly called out； rather crossly； 'What are you two whispering about？ Do go to sleep；' to which Ann replied： 'We are praying for you。〃 How do you know；' answered Bess； 'that I don't believe？ And then she told them that； that very night； when she was sitting in the shop； she had closed with God's offer of redemption。 Late in the night as it was； Ann and Drusilla could do no less than go in and waken Mary Grace； whom； however； they found awake； praying； she too； for the conversion of Bess。 They told her the good news； and all four； kneeling in the darkness； gave thanks aloud to God for his infinite mercy。
It was Mary Grace Burmington who now became the romantic friend of Miss Marks； and a sort of second benevolence to me。 She must have been under thirty years of age； she wax very small； and she was distressingly deformed in the spine； but she had an animated； almost a sparkling countenance。 When we first arrived in the village； Mary Grace was only just recovering from a gastric fever which had taken her close to the grave。 I remember hearing that the vicar； a stout and pompous man at whom we always glared defiance； went； in Mary Grace's supposed extremity； to the Burmingtons' shop…door； and shouted： 'Peace be to this house；' intending to offer his ministrations； but that Ann； who was in one of her tantrums； positively hounded him from the doorstep and down the garden； in her passionate nonconformity。 Mary Grace； however； recovered； and soon became； not merely Miss Marks' inseparable friend； but my Father's spiritual factotum。 He found it irksome to visit the 'saints' from house to house； and Mary Grace Burmington gladly assumed this labour。 She proved a most efficient coadjutor； searched out； cherished and confirmed any of those； especially the young； who were attracted by my Father's preaching； and for several years was a great joy and comfort to us all。 Even when her illness so increased that she could no longer rise from her bed； she was a centre of usefulness and cheerfulness from that retreat； where she 'received'； in a kind of rustic state； under a patchwork coverlid that was like a basket of flowers。
My Father； ever reflecting on what could be done to confirm my spiritual vocation； to pin me down； as it were； beyond any possibility of escape； bethought him that it would accustom me to what he called 'pastoral work in the Lord's service'； if I accompanied Mary Grace on her visits from house to house。 If it is remembered that I was only eight and a half when this scheme was carried into practice； it will surprise no one to hear that it was not crowned with success。 I disliked extremely this visitation of the poor。 I felt shy； I had nothing to say； with difficulty could I understand their soft Devonian patois； and most of alla signal perhaps of my neurotic conditionI dreaded and loathed the smells of their cottages。 One had to run over the whole gamut of odours； some so faint that they embraced the nostril with a fairy kiss； others bluntly gross； of the 'knock… you…down' order； some sweet； with a dreadful sourness； some bitter； with a smack of rancid hair…oil。 There were fine manly smells of the pigsty and the open drain； and these prided themselves on being all they seemed to be； but there were also feminine odours； masquerading as you knew not what； in which penny whiffs； vials of balm and opoponax； seemed to have become tainted； vaguely； with the residue of the slop…pail。 It was not； I think； that the villagers were particularly dirty； but those were days before the invention of sanitary science； and my poor young nose was morbidly； nay ridiculously sensitive。 I often came home from 'visiting the saints' absolutely incapable of eating the milk…sop； with brown sugar strewn over it； which was my evening meal。
There was one exception to my unwillingness to join in the pastoral labours of Mary Grace。 When she announced； on a fine afternoon； that we were going to Pavor and Barton； I was always agog to start。 These were two hamlets in our parish； and； I should suppose； the original home of its population。 Pavor was； even then； decayed almost to extinction； but Barton preserved its desultory street of ancient； detached cottages。 Each； however poor； had a wild garden around it； and； where the inhabitants possessed some pride in their surroundings； the roses and the jasmines and that distinguished creeper；which one sees nowhere at its best but in Devonshire cottage…gardens；the stately cotoneaster； made the whole place a bower。 Barton was in vivid contrast to our own harsh； open； squalid village； with its mean modern houses； its absence of all vegetation。 The ancient thatched cottages of Barton were shut in by moist hills； and canopied by ancient trees； they were approached along a deep lane which was all a wonder and a revelation to me that spring； since； in the very words of Shelley：
There in the warm hedge grew lush eglantine； Green cow…bind and the moonlight…coloured may； And cherry blossoms； and white cups； whose wine Was the bright dew yet drained not by the day； And wild roses； and ivy serpentine With its dark buds and leaves； wandering astray。
Around and beyond Barton there lay fairyland。 All was mysterious； unexplored； rich with infinite possibilities。 I should one day enter it； the sword of make…believe in my hand； the cap of courage on my head； 'when you are a big boy'； said the oracle of Mary Grace。 For the present； we had to content ourselves with being an unadventurous couplea little woman； bent half…double； and a preternaturally sedate small boy as we walked very slowly； side by side； conversing on terms of high familiarity； in which Biblical and colloquial phrases were quaintly jumbled； through the sticky red mud of the Pavor lanes with Barton as a bourne before us。
When we came home； my Father would sometimes ask me for particulars。 Where had we been； whom had we found at home； what testimony had those visited been able to give of the Lord's goodness to them； what had Mary Grace replied in the way of exhortation； reproof or condolence？ These questions I hated at the time； but they were very useful to me； since they gave me the habit of concentrating my attention on what was going on in the course of our visits； in case I might be called upon to give a report。 My Father was very kind in the matter； he cultivated my powers of expression； he did not snub me when I failed to be intelligent。 But I overheard Miss Marks and Mary Grace discussing the whole question under the guise of referring to 'you know whom； not a hundred miles hence'； fancying that I could not recognize their little ostrich because its head was in a bag of metaphor。 I understood perfectly； and gathered that they both of them thought this business of my going into undrained cottages injudicious。 Accordingly； I was by degrees taken 'visiting' only when Mary Grace was going into the country…hamlets； and then I was usually left outside； to skip among the flowers and stalk the butterflies。
I must not； however； underestimate the very prominent part taken all through this spring and summer of 1858 by the collection of specimens on the seashore。 My Father had returned； the chagrin of his failure in theorizing now being mitigated； to what was his real work in life； the practical study of animal forms in detail。 He was not a biologist； in the true sense of the term。 That luminous indication which Flaubert gives of what the action of the scientific mind should be； 'affranchissant esprit et pesant les mondes； sans haine； sans peur； sans pitie； sans amour et sans Dieu'； was opposed in every segment to the attitude of my Father； who； nevertheless； was a man of very high scientific attainment。
But； again I repeat； he was not a philosopher； he was incapable； by temperament and education； of forming broad generalizations and of escaping in a vast survey from the troublesome pettiness of detail。 He saw everything through a lens； nothing in the immensity of nature。 Certain senses were absent in him； I think that； with all his justice； he had n
