the complete writings-4-第19节

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e；　and　that　the　carriage　was　from　Baltimore。　　Here　was　a　chance　for　a　romance。　　Slavery；　beauty；　wealth；　haughtiness；　especially　on　the　part　of　the　slender　boy　on　the　front　seat；here　was　an　opening　into　a　vast　realm。　　The　high…stepping　horses　and　the　shining　harness　were　enough　to　excite　John's　admiration；　but　these　were　nothing　to　the　little　girl。　　His　eyes　had　never　before　fallen　upon　that　kind　of　girl；　he　had　hardly　imagined　that　such　a　lovely　creature　could　exist。　Was　it　the　soft　and　dainty　toilet；　was　it　the　brown　curls；　or　the　large　laughing　eyes；　or　the　delicate；　finely　cut　features；　or　the　charming　little　figure　of　this　fairy…like　person？　　Was　this　expression　on　her　mobile　face　merely　that　of　amusement　at　seeing　a　country…boy？　　Then　John　hated　her。　　On　the　contrary；　did　she　see　in　him　what　John　felt　himself　to　be？　　Then　he　would　go　the　world　over　to　serve　her。　　In　a　moment　he　was　self…conscious。　　His　trousers　seemed　to　creep　higher　up　his　legs；　and　he　could　feel　his　very　ankles　blush。　He　hoped　that　she　had　not　seen　the　other　side　of　him；　for；　in　fact；　the　patches　were　not　of　the　exact　shade　of　the　rest　of　the　cloth。　The　vision　flashed　by　him　in　a　moment；　but　it　left　him　with　a　resentful　feeling。　　Perhaps　that　proud　little　girl　would　be　sorry　some　day；　when　he　had　become　a　general；　or　written　a　book；　or　kept　a　store；　to　see　him　go　away　and　marry　another。　　He　almost　made　up　his　cruel　mind　on　the　instant　that　he　would　never　marry　her；　however　bad　she　might　feel。　　And　yet　he　could　n't　get　her　out　of　his　mind　for　days　and　days；　and　when　her　image　was　present；　even　Cynthia　in　the　singers'　seat　on　Sunday　looked　a　little　cheap　and　common。　　Poor　Cynthia！　　Long　before　John　became　a　general　or　had　his　revenge　on　the　Baltimore　girl；　she　married　a　farmer　and　was　the　mother　of　children；　red…headed；　and　when　John　saw　her　years　after；　she　looked　tired　and　discouraged；　as　one　who　has　carried　into　womanhood　none　of　the　romance　of　her　youth。

Fishing　and　dreaming；　I　think；　were　the　best　amusements　John　had。　The　middle　pier　of　the　long　covered　bridge　over　the　river　stood　upon　a　great　rock；　and　this　rock　（which　was　known　as　the　swimming…rock；　whence　the　boys　on　summer　evenings　dove　into　the　deep　pool　by　its　side）　was　a　favorite　spot　with　John　when　he　could　get　an　hour　or　two　from　the　everlasting　〃chores。〃　　Making　his　way　out　to　it　over　the　rocks　at　low　water　with　his　fish…pole；　there　he　was　content　to　sit　and　observe　the　world；　and　there　he　saw　a　great　deal　of　life。　　He　always　expected　to　catch　the　legendary　trout　which　weighed　two　pounds　and　was　believed　to　inhabit　that　pool。　　He　always　did　catch　horned　dace　and　shiners；　which　he　despised；　and　sometimes　he　snared　a　monstrous　sucker　a　foot　and　a　half　long。　　But　in　the　summer　the　sucker　is　a　flabby　fish；　and　John　was　not　thanked　for　bringing　him　home。　　He　liked；　however；　to　lie　with　his　face　close　to　the　water　and　watch　the　long　fishes　panting　in　the　clear　depths；　and　occasionally　he　would　drop　a　pebble　near　one　to　see　how　gracefully　he　would　scud　away　with　one　wave　of　the　tail　into　deeper　water。　　Nothing　fears　the　little　brown　boy。　　The　yellow…bird　slants　his　wings；　almost　touches　the　deep　water　before　him；　and　then　escapes　away　under　the　bridge　to　the　east　with　a　glint　of　sunshine　on　his　back；　the　fish…hawk　comes　down　with　a　swoop；　dips　one　wing；　and；　his　prey　having　darted　under　a　stone；　is　away　again　over　the　still　hill；　high　soaring　on　even…poised　pinions；　keeping　an　eye　perhaps　upon　the　great　eagle　which　is　sweeping　the　sky　in　widening　circles。

But　there　is　other　life。　　A　wagon　rumbles　over　the　bridge；　and　the　farmer　and　his　wife；　jogging　along；　do　not　know　that　they　have　startled　a　lazy　boy　into　a　momentary　fancy　that　a　thunder…shower　is　coming　up。　　John　can　see　as　he　lies　there　on　a　still　summer　day；　with　the　fishes　and　the　birds　for　company；　the　road　that　comes　down　the　left　bank　of　the　river；a　hot；　sandy；　well…traveled　road；　hidden　from　view　here　and　there　by　trees　and　bushes。　　The　chief　point　of　interest；　however；　is　an　enormous　sycamore…tree　by　the　roadside　and　in　front　of　John's　house。　　The　house　is　more　than　a　century　old；　and　its　timbers　were　hewed　and　squared　by　Captain　Moses　Rice　（who　lies　in　his　grave　on　the　hillside　above　it）；　in　the　presence　of　the　Red　Man　who　killed　him　with　arrow　and　tomahawk　some　time　after　his　house　was　set　in　order。　　The　gigantic　tree；　struck　with　a　sort　of　leprosy；　like　all　its　species；　appears　much　older；　and　of　course　has　its　tradition。　They　say　that　it　grew　from　a　green　stake　which　the　first　land…　surveyor　planted　there　for　one　of　his　points　of　sight。　　John　was　reminded　of　it　years　after　when　he　sat　under　the　shade　of　the　decrepit　lime…tree　in　Freiburg　and　was　told　that　it　was　originally　a　twig　which　the　breathless　and　bloody　messenger　carried　in　his　hand　when　he　dropped　exhausted　in　the　square　with　the　word　〃Victory！〃　on　his　lips；　announcing　thus　the　result　of　the　glorious　battle　of　Morat；　where　the　Swiss　in　1476　defeated　Charles　the　Bold。　　Under　the　broad　but　scanty　shade　of　the　great　button…ball　tree　（as　it　was　called）　stood　an　old　watering…trough；　with　its　half…decayed　penstock　and　well…worn　spout　pouring　forever　cold；　sparkling　water　into　the　overflowing　trough。　　It　is　fed　by　a　spring　near　by；　and　the　water　is　sweeter　and　colder　than　any　in　the　known　world；　unless　it　be　the　well　Zem…zem；　as　generations　of　people　and　horses　which　have　drunk　of　it　would　testify；　if　they　could　come　back。　　And　if　they　could　file　along　this　road　again；　what　a　procession　there　would　be　riding　down　the　valley！antiquated　vehicles；　rusty　wagons　adorned　with　the　invariable　buffalo…robe　even　in　the　hottest　days；　lean　and　long…　favored　horses；　frisky　colts；　drawing；　generation　after　generation；　the　sober　and　pious　saints；　that　passed　this　way　to　meeting　and　to　mill。

What　a　refreshment　is　that　water…spout！　　All　day　long　there　are　pilgrims　to　it；　and　John　likes　nothing　better　than　to　watch　them。　Here　comes　a　gray　horse　drawing　a　buggy　with　two　men；cattle

buyers；　probably。　　Out　jumps　a　man；　down　goes　the　check…rein。　　What　a　good　draught　the　nag　takes！　　Here　comes　a　long…stepping　trotter　in　a　sulky；　man　in　a　brown　linen　coat　and　wide…awake　hat；dissolute；　horsey…looking　man。　　They　turn　up；　of　course。　　Ah；　there　is　an　establishment　he　knows　well：　a　sorrel　horse　and　an　old　chaise。　　The　sorrel　horse　scents　the　water　afar　off；　and　begins　to　turn　up　long　before　he　reaches　the　trough；　thrusting　out　his　nose　in　anticipation　of　the　coot　sensation。　　No　check　to　let　down；　he　plunges　his　nose　in　nearly　to　his　eyes。　　in　his　haste　to　get　at　it。　　Two　maiden　ladies　unmistakably　such；　though　they　appear　neither　〃anxious　nor　aimless　〃…　…within　the　scoop…top　smile　benevolently　on　the　sorrel　back。　　It　is　the　deacon's　horse；　a　meeting…going　nag；　with　a　sedate；　leisurely　jog　as　he　goes；　and　these　are　two　of　the　〃salt　of　the　earth；〃the　brevet　rank　of　the　women　who　stand　and　wait；going　down　to　the　village　store　to　dicker。　　There　come　two　men　in　a　hurry；　horse　driven　up　smartly　and　pulled　up　short；　but　as　it　is　rising　ground；　and　the　horse　does　not　easily　reach　the　water　with　the　wagon　pulling　back；　the　nervous　man　in　the　buggy　hitches　forward　on　his　seat；　as　if　that　would　carry　the　wagon　a　little　ahead！　　Next；　lumber…wagon　with　load　of　boards；　horse　wants　to　turn　up；　and　driver　switches　him　and　cries　〃G'lang；〃　and　the　horse　reluctantly　goes　by；　turning　his　head　wistfully　towards　the　flowing　spout。　　Ah；　here　comes　an　equipage　strange　to　these　parts；　and　John　stands　up　to　look；　an　elegant　carriage　and　two　horses；　trunks　strapped　on　behind；　gentleman　and　boy　on　front　seat　and　two　ladies　on　back　seat；city　people。　　The　gentleman　descends；　unchecks　the　horses；　wipes　his　brow；　takes　a　drink　at　the　spout　and　looks　around；　evidently　remarking　upon　the　lovely　view；　as　he　swings　his　handkerchief　in　an　explanatory　manner。　Judicious　travelers。　　John　would　like　to　know　who　they　are。　　Perhaps　they　are　from　Boston；　whence　come　all　the　wonderfully　painted　peddlers'　wagons　drawn　by　six　stalwart　horses；　which　the　driver；　using　no　rein；　controls　with　his　long　whip　and　cheery　voice。　　If　so；　great　is　the　condescension　of　Boston；　and　John　follows　them　with　an　undefined　longing　as　they　drive　away　toward　the　mountains　of　Zoar。　Here　is　a　footman；　dusty　and　tired；　who　comes　with　lagging　steps。　　He　stops；　removes　his　hat；　as　he　should　to　such　a　tree；　puts　his　mouth　to　the　spout；　and　takes　a　long　pull　at　the　lively　water。　　And　then　he　goes　on；　perhaps　to　Zoar；　perhaps　to　a　worse　place。

So　they　come　and　go　all　the　summer　afternoon；　but　the　great　event　of　the　day　is　the　passing　down　the　valley　of　the　majestic　stage…coach；　the　vast　yellow…bodied；　rattling　vehicle。　　John　can　hear　a　mile　off　the　shaking　of　chains；　traces；　and　whiffle…trees；　and　the　creaking　of　its　leathern　braces；　as　the　great　bulk　swings　along　piled　high　with　trunks。　　It　represents　to　John；　somehow；　authority；　government；　the　right　of　way；　the　driver　is　an　autocrat；　everybody　must　make　way　for　the　stage…coach。　　It　almost　satisfies　the　imagination；　this　royal　vehicle；　one　can　go　in　it　to　the　confines　of　the　world；to　Boston　and　to　Albany。

There　were　other　influences　that　I　daresay　contributed　to　the　boy's　education。　　I　think　his　imagination　was　stimulated　by