eben holden-第11章

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The　sexton　he　came　…　Mr　Spider　by　name　…　a　citizen　hairy　and　grey。　His　rope　in　a　steeple；　he　called　the　good　people　　That　live　in　the　land　o'　the　hay。　The　ants　an'　the　squgs　an'　the　crickets　an'　bugs　…　came　out　in　a　mighty　array。

Some　came　down　from　Barleytown　an'　the　neighbouring　city　o'　Rye。　An'　the　little　black　people　they　climbed　every　steeple　An'　sat　looking　up　at　the　sky。　They　came　fer　t'　see　what　a　wedding　might　be　an'　they　furnished　the　cake　an；　the　pie。

I　remember　he　turned　to　me　when　he　had　finished　and　took　one　of　my　small　hands　and　held　it　in　his　hard　palm　and　looked　at　it　and　then　into　my　face。

'Ah；　boy！'　he　said；　'your　way　shall　lead　you　far　from　here；　and　you　shall　get　learning　and　wealth　and　win　　…　victories。'

'What　nonsense　are　you　talking；　Jed　Ferry？'　said　Uncle　Eb。　　　　　　　　　　　　'O；　you　all　think　I'm　a　fool　an'　a　humbug；　'cos　I　look　it。　Why；　Eben　Holden；　if　you　was　what　ye　looked；　ye'd　be　in　the　presidential　chair。　Folks　here　'n　the　valley　think　o'　nuthin'　but　hard　work　…　most　uv　'em；　an'　I　tell　ye　now　this　boy　ain't　a　goin'　t'　be　wuth　putty　on　a　farm。　Look　a'　them　slender　hands。

'There　was　a　man　come　to　me　the　other　day　an'　wanted　t'　hev　a　poem　'bout　his　wife　that　hed　jes'　died。　I　ast　him　t'　tell　me　all　'bout　her。

'〃Wall；〃　said　he；　after　he　had　scratched　his　head　an'　thought　a　minute；　〃she　was　a　dretful　good　woman　t'　work。〃

'〃Anything　else？〃　I　asked。

'He　thought　agin　fer　a　minute。

'〃Broke　her　leg　once；〃　he　said；　〃an'　was　laid　up　fer　more'n　a　year。〃

〃Must　o'　suffered；〃　said　I。

'〃Not　then；〃　he　answered。　〃Ruther　enjoyed　it　layin'　abed　an'　readin'　an'　bein'　rubbed；　but　'twas　hard　on　the　children。〃

'〃S'pose　ye　loved　her；〃　I　said。

'Then　the　tears　come　into　his　eyes　an'　he　couldn't　speak　fer　a　minute。　Putty　soon　he　whispered　〃Yes〃　kind　o'　confidential。　'Course　he　loved　her；　but　these　Yankees　are　ashamed　o'　their　feelin's。　They　hev　tender　thoughts；　but　they　hide　'em　as　careful　as　the　wild　goose　hides　her　eggs。　I　wrote　a　poem　t'　please　him；　an'　goin'　home　I　made　up　one　fer　myself；　an　'it　run　'bout　like　this：

O　give　me　more　than　a　life；　I　beg；　That　finds　real　joy　in　a　broken　leg。　Whose　only　thought　is　t'　work　an'　save　An'　whose　only　rest　is　in　the　grave。　Saving　an'　scrimping　from　day　to　day　While　its　best　it　has　squandered　an'　flung　away　Fer　a　life　like　that　of　which　I　tell　Would　rob　me　quite　o'　the　dread　o'　hell。

'Toil　an'　slave　an'　scrimp　an'　save　…　thet's　'bout　all　we　think　uv　'n　this　country。　'Tain't　right；　Holden。'

'No；　'tain't　right；'　said　Uncle　Eb。

'I　know　I'm　a　poor；　mis'rable　critter。　Kind　o'　out　o'　tune　with　everybody　I　know。　Alwus　quarrelled　with　my　own　folks；　an'　now　I　ain't　got　any　home。　Someday　I'm　goin'　t'　die　in　the　poorhouse　er　on　the　ground　under　these　woods。　But　I　tell　ye'…　here　he　spoke　in　a　voice　that　grew　loud　with　feeling　…　'mebbe　I've　been　lazy；　as　they　say；　but　I've　got　more　out　o'　my　life　than　any　o'　these　fools。　And　someday　God'll　honour　me　far　above　them。　When　my　wife　an'　I　parted　I　wrote　some　lines　that　say　well　my　meaning。　It　was　only　a　log　house　we　had；　but　this　will　show　what　I　got　out　of　it。'　Then　he　spoke　the　lines；　his　voice　trembling　with　emotion。

'O　humble　home！　Thou　hadst　a　secret　door　Thro'　which　I　looked；　betimes；　with　wondering　eye　On　treasures　that　no　palace　ever　wore　But　now　…　goodbye！

In　hallowed　scenes　what　feet　have　trod　thy　stage！　The　babe；　the　maiden；　leaving　home　to　wed　The　young　man　going　forth　by　duty　led　And　faltering　age。

Thou　hadst　a　magic　window　broad　and　high　The　light　and　glory　of　the　morning　shone　Thro'　it；　however　dark　the　day　had　grown；　Or　bleak　the　sky。

'I　know　Dave　Brower's　folks　hev　got　brains　an'　decency；　but　when　thet　boy　is　old　enough　t'　take　care　uv　himself；　let　him　git　out　o'　this　country。　I　tell　ye　he'll　never　make　a　farmer；　an'　if　he　marries　an；　settles　down　here　he'll　git　t'　be　a　poet；　mebbe；　er　some　such　shif'less　cuss；　an'　die　in　the　poorhouse。　Guess　I　better　git　back　t'　my　bilin'　now。　Good…night；'　he　added；　rising　and　buttoning　his　old　coat　as　he　walked　away。

'Sing'lar　man！'　Uncle　Eli　exclaimed；　thoughtfully；　'but　anyone　thet　picks　him　up　fer　a　fool'll　find　him　a　counterfeit。'

Young　as　I　was；　the　rugged；　elemental　power　of　the　old　poet　had　somehow　got　to　my　heart　and　stirred　my　imagination。　It　all　came　not　fully　to　my　understanding　until　later。　Little　by　little　it　grew　upon　me；　and　what　an　effect　it　had　upon　my　thought　and　life　ever　after　I　should　not　dare　to　estimate。　And　soon　I　sought　out　the　'poet　of　the　hills；'　as　they　called　him；　and　got　to　know　and　even　to　respect　him　in　spite　of　his　unlovely　aspect。

Uncle　Eb　skimmed　the　boiling　sap；　put　more　wood　on　the　fire　and　came　and　pulled　off　his　boots　and　lay　down　beside　me　under　the　robe。　And；　hearing　the　boil　of　the　sap　and　the　crackle　of　the　burning　logs　in　the　arch；　I　soon　went　asleep。

I　remember　feeling　Uncle　Eb's　hand　upon　my　cheek；　and　how　I　rose　and　stared　about　me　in　the　fading　shadows　of　a　dream　as　he　shook　me　gently。

'Wake　up；　my　boy；'　said　he。　'Come；　we　mus'　put　fer　home。'

The　fire　was　out。　The　old　man　held　a　lantern　as　he　stood　before　me；　the　blaze　flickering。　There　was　a　fearsome　darkness　all　around。

'Come；　Willy；　make　haste；'　he　whispered；　as　I　rubbed　my　eyes。　'Put　on　yer　boots；　an'　here's　yer　little　coat　'n'　muffler。'

There　was　a　mighty　roar　in　the　forest　and　icy　puffs　of　snow　came　whistling　in　upon　as。　We　stored　the　robes　and　pails　and　buckets　and　covered　the　big　kettle。

The　lofty　tree…tops　reeled　and　creaked　above　us；　and　a　deep；　sonorous　moan　was　sweeping　through　the　woods；　as　if　the　fingers　of　the　wind　had　touched　a　mighty　harp　string　in　the　timber。　We　could　hear　the　crash　and　thunder　of　falling　trees。

'Make　haste！　Make　haste！　It's　resky　here；'　said　Uncle　Eb；　and　he　held　my　hand　and　ran。　We　started　through　the　brush　and　steered　as　straight　as　we　could　for　the　clearing。　The　little　box　of　light　he　carried　was　soon　sheathed　in　snow；　and　I　remember　how　he　stopped；　half　out　of　breath；　often；　and　brushed　it　with　his　mittens　to　let　out　the　light。　We　had　made　the　scattering　growth　of　little　timber　at　the　edge　of　the　woods　when　the　globe　of　the　lantern　snapped　and　fell。　A　moment　later　we　stood　in　utter　darkness。　I　knew；　for　the　first　time；　then　that　we　were　in　a　bad　fix。

'I　guess　God'll　take　care　of　us；　Willy；'　said　Uncle　Eb。　'If　he　don't；　we'll　never　get　there　in　this　world　never！'

It　was　a　black　and　icy　wall　of　night　and　storm　on　every　side　of　us。　I　never　saw　a　time　when　the　light　of　God's　heaven　was　so　utterly　extinguished；　the　cold　never　went　to　my　bone　as　on　that　bitter　night。　My　hands　and　feet　were　numb　with　aching；　as　the　roar　of　the　trees　grew　fainter　in　the　open。　I　remember　how　I　lagged；　and　how　the　old　man　urged　me　on；　and　how　we　toiled　in　the　wind　and　darkness；　straining　our　eyes　for　some　familiar　thing。　Of　a　sudden　we　stumbled　upon　a　wall　that　we　had　passed　an　hour　or　so　before。

'Oh！'　he　groaned；　and　made　that　funny；　deprecating　cluck　with　his　tongue；　that　I　have　heard　so　much　from　Yankee　lips。

'God　o'　mercy！'　said　he；　'we've　gone　'round　in　a　half…circle。　Now　we'll　take　the　wall　an'　mebbe　it'll　bring　us　home。'

I　thought　I　couldn't　keep　my　feet　any　longer；　for　an　irresistible　drowsiness　had　come　over　me。　The　voice　of　Uncle　Eb　seemed　far　away；　and　when　I　sank　in　the　snow　and　shut　my　eyes　to　sleep　he　shook　me　as　a　terrier　shakes　a　rat。

'Wake　up；　my　boy；'　said　he；　'ye　musn't　sleep。'

Then　he　boxed　my　ears　until　I　cried；　and　picked　me　up　and　ran　with　me　along　the　side　of　the　wall。　I　was　but　dimly　conscious　when　he　dropped　me　under　a　tree　whose　bare　twigs　lashed　the　air　and　stung　my　cheeks。　I　heard　him　tearing　the　branches　savagely　and　muttering；　'Thanks　to　God；　it's　the　blue　beech。'　I　shall　never　forget　how　he　turned　and　held　to　my　hand　and　put　the　whip　on　me　as　I　lay　in　the　snow；　and　how　the　sting　of　it　started　my　blood。　Up　I　sprang　in　a　jiffy　and　howled　and　danced。　The　stout　rod　bent　and　circled　on　me　like　a　hoop　of　fire。　Then　I　turned　and　tried　to　run　while　he　clung　to　my　coat　tails；　and　every　step　I　felt　the　stinging　grab　of　the　beech。　There　is　a　little　seam　across　my　cheek　today　that　marks　a　footfall　of　one　of　those　whips。　In　a　moment　I　was　as　wide　awake　as　Uncle　Eb　and　needed　no　more　stimulation。

The　wall　led　us　to　the　pasture　lane；　and　there　it　was　easy　enough　to　make　our　way　to　the　barnyard　and　up　to　the　door　of　the　house；　which　had　a　candle　in　every　window；　I　remember。　David　was　up　and　dressed　to　come　after　us；　and　I　recall　how　he　took　Uncle　Eb　in　his　arms；　when　he　fell　fainting　on　the　doorstep；　and　carried　him　to　the　lounge。　I　saw　the　blood　on　my　face　as　I　passed　the　mirror；　and　Elizabeth　Brower　came　running　and　gave　me　one　glance　and　rushed　out　of　doors　with　the　dipper。　It　was　full　of　snow　when　she　ran　in　and　tore　the　wrappings　off　my　neck　and　began　to　rub　my　ears　and　cheeks　with　the　cold　snow；　calling　loudly　for　Grandma　Bisnette。　She　came　in　a　moment　and　helped　at　the　stripping　of　our　feet　and　legs。　I　remember　that　she　slit　my　trousers　with　the　shears　as　I　lay　on　the　floor；　while　the　others　rubbed　my　feet　with　the　snow。　Our　hands　and　ears　were　badly　frosted；　but　in　an　hour　the　whiteness　had　gone　out　of　them　and　the　returning　blood　burnt　like　a　fire。

'How　queer　he　stares！'　I　heard　them　say　when　Uncle　Eb　first　came　to；　and　in　a　moment　a　roar　of　laughter　broke　from　him。

'I'll　never　fergit；'　said　he　presently；　'if　I　live　a　thousan'　years；　the　lickin'　I　gin　thet　boy；　but　it　hurt　me　worse'n　it　hurt　him。'

Then　he　told　the　story　of　the　blue　beech。

The　next　day　was　that　'cold　Friday'　long　remembered　by　those　who　felt　its　deadly　chill　…　a　day　when　water　thrown　in　the　magic　air　came　down　in　clinking　crystals；　and　sheaths　of　frost　lay　thick　upon　the　windows。　But　that　and　the　one　before　it　were　among　the　few　days　in　that　early　period　that　lie；　like　a　rock；　under　my　character。

Chapter　9

Grandma　Bisnette　came　from　Canada　to　work　for　the　Browers。　She　was　a　big；　cheerful　woman；　with　a　dialect；　an　amiable　disposition　and　a　swarthy；　wrinkled　face。　She　had　a　loose　front　tooth　that　occupied　all　the　leisure　of　her　tongue。　When　she　sat　at　her　knitting　this　big　tooth　clicked　incessantly。　On　every　stitch　her　tongue　went　in　and　out　across　it'　and　I；　standing　often　by　her　knees；　regarded　the　process　with　great　curiosity。

The　reader　may　gather　much　from　these　frank　and　informing　words　of　Grandma　Bisnette。　'When　I　los'　my　man；　Mon　Dieu！　I　have　two　son。　An'　when　I　come　across　I　bring　him　with　me。　Abe　he　rough；　but　den　he　no　bad　man。'

Abe　was　the　butcher　of　the　neighbourhood　…　that　red…handed；　stony…hearted；　necessary　man　whom　the　Yankee　farmer　in　that　north　country　hires　to　do　the　cruel　things　that　have　to　be　done。　He　wore　ragged；　dirty　clothes　and　had　a　voice　like　a　steam　whistle。　His　rough；　black　hair　fell　low　and　mingled　with　his　scanty　beard。　His　hands　were　stained　too　often　with　the　blood　of　some　creature　we　loved。　I　always　crept　under　the　bed　in　Mrs　Brower's　room　when　Abe　came　…　he　was　such　a　terror　to　me　with　his　bloody　work　and　noisy　oaths。　Such　men　were　the　curse　of　the　cleanly　homes　in　that　country。　There　was　much　to　shock　the　ears　and　eyes　of　children　in　the　life　of　the　farm。　It　was　a　fashion　among　the　help　to　decorate　their　speech　with　profanity　for　the　mere　sound　of　i