idle thoughts of an idle fellow-第25节

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be　alone；　and　the　shadows　will　creep　out　across　the　fields　and　the　night　wind　will　sweep　past　moaning。　　Ghosts！　they　are　always　with　us　and　always　will　be　while　the　sad　old　world　keeps　echoing　to　the　sob　of　long　good…bys；　while　the　cruel　ships　sail　away　across　the　great　seas；　and　the　cold　green　earth　lies　heavy　on　the　hearts　of　those　we　loved。

But；　oh；　ghosts；　the　world　would　be　sadder　still　without　you。　　Come　to　us　and　speak　to　us；　oh　you　ghosts　of　our　old　loves！　　Ghosts　of　playmates；　and　of　sweethearts；　and　old　friends；　of　all　you　laughing　boys　and　girls；　oh；　come　to　us　and　be　with　us；　for　the　world　is　very　lonely；　and　new　friends　and　faces　are　not　like　the　old；　and　we　cannot　love　them；　nay；　nor　laugh　with　them　as　we　have　loved　and　laughed　with　you。　　And　when　we　walked　together；　oh；　ghosts　of　our　youth；　the　world　was　very　gay　and　bright；　but　now　it　has　grown　old　and　we　are　growing　weary；　and　only　you　can　bring　the　brightness　and　the　freshness　back　to　us。

Memory　is　a　rare　ghost…raiser。　　Like　a　haunted　house；　its　walls　are　ever　echoing　to　unseen　feet。　　Through　the　broken　casements　we　watch　the　flitting　shadows　of　the　dead；　and　the　saddest　shadows　of　them　all　are　the　shadows　of　our　own　dead　selves。

Oh；　those　young　bright　faces；　so　full　of　truth　and　honor；　of　pure；　good　thoughts；　of　noble　longings；　how　reproachfully　they　look　upon　us　with　their　deep；　clear　eyes！

I　fear　they　have　good　cause　for　their　sorrow；　poor　lads。　　Lies　and　cunning　and　disbelief　have　crept　into　our　hearts　since　those　preshaving　daysand　we　meant　to　be　so　great　and　good。

It　is　well　we　cannot　see　into　the　future。　　There　are　few　boys　of　fourteen　who　would　not　feel　ashamed　of　themselves　at　forty。

I　like　to　sit　and　have　a　talk　sometimes　with　that　odd　little　chap　that　was　myself　long　ago。　　I　think　he　likes　it　too；　for　he　comes　so　often　of　an　evening　when　I　am　alone　with　my　pipe；　listening　to　the　whispering　of　the　flames。　　I　see　his　solemn　little　face　looking　at　me　through　the　scented　smoke　as　it　floats　upward；　and　I　smile　at　him；　and　he　smiles　back　at　me；　but　his　is　such　a　grave；　old…fashioned　smile。　We　chat　about　old　times；　and　now　and　then　he　takes　me　by　the　hand；　and　then　we　slip　through　the　black　bars　of　the　grate　and　down　the　dusky　glowing　caves　to　the　land　that　lies　behind　the　firelight。　　There　we　find　the　days　that　used　to　be；　and　we　wander　along　them　together。　　He　tells　me　as　we　walk　all　he　thinks　and　feels。　　I　laugh　at　him　now　and　then；　but　the　next　moment　I　wish　I　had　not；　for　he　looks　so　grave　I　am　ashamed　of　being　frivolous。　　Besides；　it　is　not　showing　proper　respect　to　one　so　much　older　than　myselfto　one　who　was　myself　so　very　long　before　I　became　myself。

We　don't　talk　much　at　first；　but　look　at　one　another；　I　down　at　his　curly　hair　and　little　blue　bow；　he　up　sideways　at　me　as　he　trots。　　And　some…how　I　fancy　the　shy；　round　eyes　do　not　altogether　approve　of　me；　and　he　heaves　a　little　sigh；　as　though　he　were　disappointed。　　But　after　awhile　his　bashfulness　wears　off　and　he　begins　to　chat。　　He　tells　me　his　favorite　fairy…tales；　he　can　do　up　to　six　times；　and　he　has　a　guinea…pig；　and　pa　says　fairy…tales　ain't　true；　and　isn't　it　a　pity？　'cos　he　would　so　like　to　be　a　knight　and　fight　a　dragon　and　marry　a　beautiful　princess。　　But　he　takes　a　more　practical　view　of　life　when　he　reaches　seven；　and　would　prefer　to　grow　up　be　a　bargee；　and　earn　a　lot　of　money。　　Maybe　this　is　the　consequence　of　falling　in　love；　which　he　does　about　this　time　with　the　young　lady　at　the　milk　shop　aet。　six。　　（God　bless　her　little　ever…dancing　feet；　whatever　size　they　may　be　now！）　　He　must　be　very　fond　of　her；　for　he　gives　her　one　day　his　chiefest　treasure；　to　wit；　a　huge　pocket…knife　with　four　rusty　blades　and　a　corkscrew；　which　latter　has　a　knack　of　working　itself　out　in　some　mysterious　manner　and　sticking　into　its　owner's　leg。　　She　is　an　affectionate　little　thing；　and　she　throws　her　arms　round　his　neck　and　kisses　him　for　it；　then　and　there；　outside　the　shop。　　But　the　stupid　world　（in　the　person　of　the　boy　at　the　cigar　emporium　next　door）　jeers　at　such　tokens　of　love。　　Whereupon　my　young　friend　very　properly　prepares　to　punch　the　head　of　the　boy　at　the　cigar　emporium　next　door；　but　fails　in　the　attempt；　the　boy　at　the　cigar　emporium　next　door　punching　his　instead。

And　then　comes　school　life；　with　its　bitter　little　sorrows　and　its　joyous　shoutings；　its　jolly　larks；　and　its　hot　tears　falling　on　beastly　Latin　grammars　and　silly　old　copy…books。　　It　is　at　school　that　he　injures　himself　for　lifeas　I　firmly　believetrying　to　pronounce　German；　and　it　is　there；　too；　that　he　learns　of　the　importance　attached　by　the　French　nation　to　pens；　ink；　and　paper。　　〃Have　you　pens；　ink；　and　paper？〃　is　the　first　question　asked　by　one　Frenchman　of　another　on　their　meeting。　　The　other　fellow　has　not　any　of　them；　as　a　rule；　but　says　that　the　uncle　of　his　brother　has　got　them　all　three。　The　first　fellow　doesn't　appear　to　care　a　hang　about　the　uncle　of　the　other　fellow's　brother；　what　he　wants　to　know　now　is；　has　the　neighbor　of　the　other　fellow's　mother　got　'em？　　〃The　neighbor　of　my　mother　has　no　pens；　no　ink；　and　no　paper；〃　replies　the　other　man；　beginning　to　get　wild。　　〃Has　the　child　of　thy　female　gardener　some　pens；　some　ink；　or　some　paper？〃　　He　has　him　there。　　After　worrying　enough　about　these　wretched　inks；　pens；　and　paper　to　make　everybody　miserable；　it　turns　out　that　the　child　of　his　own　female　gardener　hasn't　any。　　Such　a　discovery　would　shut　up　any　one　but　a　French　exercise　man。　　It　has　no　effect　at　all；　though；　on　this　shameless　creature。　　He　never　thinks　of　apologizing；　but　says　his　aunt　has　some　mustard。

So　in　the　acquisition　of　more　or　less　useless　knowledge；　soon　happily　to　be　forgotten；　boyhood　passes　away。　　The　red…brick　school…house　fades　from　view；　and　we　turn　down　into　the　world's　high…road。　　My　little　friend　is　no　longer　little　now。　　The　short　jacket　has　sprouted　tails。　　The　battered　cap；　so　useful　as　a　combination　of　pocket…handkerchief；　drinking…cup；　and　weapon　of　attack；　has　grown　high　and　glossy；　and　instead　of　a　slate…pencil　in　his　mouth　there　is　a　cigarette；　the　smoke　of　which　troubles　him；　for　it　will　get　up　his　nose。　　He　tries　a　cigar　a　little　later　on　as　being　more　stylisha　big　black　Havanna。　　It　doesn't　seem　altogether　to　agree　with　him；　for　I　find　him　sitting　over　a　bucket　in　the　back　kitchen　afterward；　solemnly　swearing　never　to　smoke　again。

And　now　his　mustache　begins　to　be　almost　visible　to　the　naked　eye；　whereupon　he　immediately　takes　to　brandy…and…sodas　and　fancies　himself　a　man。　　He　talks　about　〃two　to　one　against　the　favorite；〃　refers　to　actresses　as　〃Little　Emmy〃　and　〃Kate〃　and　〃Baby；〃　and　murmurs　about　his　〃losses　at　cards　the　other　night〃　in　a　style　implying　that　thousands　have　been　squandered；　though；　to　do　him　justice；　the　actual　amount　is　most　probably　one…and…twopence。　　Also；　if　I　see　arightfor　it　is　always　twilight　in　this　land　of　memorieshe　sticks　an　eyeglass　in　his　eye　and　stumbles　over　everything。

His　female　relations；　much　troubled　at　these　things；　pray　for　him　（bless　their　gentle　hearts！）　and　see　visions　of　Old　Bailey　trials　and　halters　as　the　only　possible　outcome　of　such　reckless　dissipation；　and　the　prediction　of　his　first　school…master；　that　he　would　come　to　a　bad　end；　assumes　the　proportions　of　inspired　prophecy。

He　has　a　lordly　contempt　at　this　age　for　the　other　sex；　a　blatantly　good　opinion　of　himself；　and　a　sociably　patronizing　manner　toward　all　the　elderly　male　friends　of　the　family。　　Altogether；　it　must　be　confessed；　he　is　somewhat　of　a　nuisance　about　this　time。

It　does　not　last　long；　though。　　He　falls　in　love　in　a　little　while；　and　that　soon　takes　the　bounce　out　of　him。　　I　notice　his　boots　are　much　too　small　for　him　now；　and　his　hair　is　fearfully　and　wonderfully　arranged。　　He　reads　poetry　more　than　he　used；　and　he　keeps　a　rhyming　dictionary　in　his　bedroom。　　Every　morning　Emily　Jane　finds　scraps　of　torn…up　paper　on　the　floor　and　reads　thereon　of　〃cruel　hearts　and　love's　deep　darts；〃　of　〃beauteous　eyes　and　lovers'　sighs；〃　and　much　more　of　the　old；　old　song　that　lads　so　love　to　sing　and　lassies　love　to　listen　to　while　giving　their　dainty　heads　a　toss　and　pretending　never　to　hear。

The　course　of　love；　however；　seems　not　to　have　run　smoothly；　for　later　on　he　takes　more　walking　exercise　and　less　sleep；　poor　boy；　than　is　good　for　him；　and　his　face　is　suggestive　of　anything　but　wedding…bells　and　happiness　ever　after。

And　here　he　seems　to　vanish。　　The　little；　boyish　self　that　has　grown　up　beside　me　as　we　walked　is　gone。

I　am　alone　and　the　road　is　very　dark。　　I　stumble　on；　I　know　not　how　nor　care；　for　the　way　seems　leading　nowhere；　and　there　is　no　light　to　guide。

But　at　last　the　morning　comes；　and　I　find　that　I　have　grown　into　myself。








THE　END。