the story of a bad boy(顽童故事)-第17章
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daily modicum of oats。 In my prayer at night I never forgot to mention
Gypsy with the rest of the family…generally setting forth her claims first。
Whatever relates to Gypsy belongs properly to this narrative； therefore
I offer no apology for rescuing from oblivion； and boldly printing here a
short composition which I wrote in the early part of my first quarter at the
Temple Grammar School。 It is my maiden effort in a difficult art； and is；
perhaps； lacking in those graces of thought and style which are reached
only after the severest practice。
Every Wednesday morning； on entering school； each pupil was
expected to lay his exercise on Mr。 Grimshaw's desk； the subject was
usually selected by Mr。 Grimshaw himself； the Monday previous。 With a
humor characteristic of him； our teacher had instituted two prizes； one for
the best and the other for the worst composition of the month。 The first
prize consisted of a penknife； or a pencil…case； or some such article dear to
the heart of youth； the second prize entitled the winner to wear for an hour
or two a sort of conical paper cap； on the front of which was written； in tall
letters； this modest admission： I AM A DUNCE！ The competitor who took
prize No。 2。 wasn't generally an object of envy。
My pulse beat high with pride and expectation that Wednesday
morning； as I laid my essay； neatly folded； on the master's table。 I firmly
decline to say which prize I won； but here's the composition to speak for
itself。
It is no small…author vanity that induces me to publish this stray leaf of
natural history。 I lay it before our young folks； not for their admiration； but
for their criticism。 Let each reader take his lead…pencil and remorselessly
correct the orthography； the capitalization； and the punctuation of the
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essay。 I shall not feel hurt at seeing my treatise cut all to pieces； though I
think highly of the production； not on account of its literary excellence；
which I candidly admit is not overpowering； but because it was written
years and years ago about Gypsy； by a little fellow who； when I strive to
recall him； appears to me like a reduced ghost of my present self。
I am confident that any reader who has ever had pets； birds or animals；
will forgive me for this brief digression。
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CHAPTER Twelve
Winter at Rivermouth
〃I guess we're going to have a regular old…fashioned snowstorm；〃 said
Captain Nutter； one bleak December morning； casting a peculiarly nautical
glance skyward。
The Captain was always hazarding prophecies about the weather；
which somehow never turned out according to his prediction。 The vanes
on the church…steeples seemed to take fiendish pleasure in humiliating the
dear old gentleman。 If he said it was going to be a clear day； a dense sea…
fog was pretty certain to set in before noon。 Once he caused a protracted
drought by assuring us every morning； for six consecutive weeks； that it
would rain in a few hours。 But； sure enough； that afternoon it began
snowing。
Now I had not seen a snow…storm since I was eighteen months old； and
of course remembered nothing about it。 A boy familiar from his infancy
with the rigors of our New England winters can form no idea of the
impression made on me by this natural phenomenon。 My delight and
surprise were as boundless as if the heavy gray sky had let down a shower
of pond lilies and white roses； instead of snow…flakes。 It happened to be a
half…holiday； so I had nothing to do but watch the feathery crystals
whirling hither and thither through the air。 I stood by the sitting…room
window gazing at the wonder until twilight shut out the novel scene。
We had had several slight flurries of hail and snow before； but this was
a regular nor'easter。
Several inches of snow had already fallen。 The rose…bushes at the door
drooped with the weight of their magical blossoms； and the two posts that
held the garden gate were transformed into stately Turks； with white
turbans； guarding the entrance to the Nutter House。
The storm increased at sundown； and continued with unabated
violence through the night。 The next morning； when I jumped out of bed；
the sun was shining brightly； the cloudless heavens wore the tender azure
of June； and the whole earth lay muffled up to the eyes； as it were； in a
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thick mantle of milk…white down。
It was a very deep snow。 The Oldest Inhabitant （what would become
of a New England town or village without its oldest Inhabitant？）
overhauled his almanacs； and pronounced it the deepest snow we had bad
for twenty years。 It couldn't have been much deeper without smothering us
all。 Our street was a sight to be seen； or； rather； it was a sight not to be
seen； for very little street was visible。 One huge drift completely banked
up our front door and half covered my bedroom window。
There was no school that day； for all the thoroughfares were
impassable。 By twelve o'clock； however； the great snowploughs； each
drawn by four yokes of oxen； broke a wagon…path through the principal
streets； but the foot…passengers had a hard time of it floundering in the
arctic drifts。
The Captain and I cut a tunnel； three feet wide and six feet high； from
our front door to the sidewalk opposite。 It was a beautiful cavern； with its
walls and roof inlaid with mother…of…pearl and diamonds。 I am sure the ice
palace of the Russian Empress； in Cowper's poem； was not a more superb
piece of architecture。
The thermometer began falling shortly before sunset and we had the
bitterest cold night I ever experienced。 This brought out the Oldest
Inhabitant again the next day…and what a gay old boy he was for deciding
everything！ Our tunnel was turned into solid ice。 A crust thick enough to
bear men and horses had formed over the snow everywhere； and the air
was alive with merry sleigh…bells。 Icy stalactites； a yard long； bung from
the eaves of the house； and the Turkish sentinels at the gate looked as if
they had given up all hopes of ever being relieved from duty。
So the winter set in cold and glittering。 Everything out…of…doors was
sheathed in silver mail。 To quote from Charley Marden； it was 〃cold
enough to freeze the tail off a brass monkey；〃…an observation which
seemed to me extremely happy； though I knew little or nothing concerning
the endurance of brass monkeys； having never seen one。
I had looked forward to the advent of the season with grave
apprehensions； nerving myself to meet dreary nights and monotonous days；
but summer itself was not more jolly than winter at Rivermouth。 Snow…
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balling at school； skating on the Mill Pond； coasting by moonlight； long
rides behind Gypsy in a brand…new little sleigh built expressly for her；
were sports no less exhilarating than those which belonged to the sunny
months。 And then Thanksgiving！ The nose of Memory…why shouldn't
Memory have a nose？…dilates with pleasure over the rich perfume of Miss
Abigail's forty mince…pies； each one more delightful than the other； like
the Sultan's forty wives。 Christmas was another red…letter day； though it
was not so generally observed in New England as it is now。
The great wood…fire in the tiled chimney…place made our sitting…room
very cheerful of winter nights。 When the north…wind howled about the
eaves； and the sharp fingers of the sleet tapped against the window…panes；
it was nice to be so warmly sheltered from the storm。 A dish of apples and
a pitcher of chilly cider were always served during the evening。 The
Captain had a funny way of leaning back in the chair； and eating his apple
with his eyes closed。 Sometimes I played dominos with him； and
sometimes Miss Abigail read aloud to us； pronouncing 〃to〃 toe； and
sounding all the eds。
In a former chapter I alluded to Miss Abigail's managing propensities。
She had affected many changes in the Nutter House before I came there to
live； but there was one thing against which she bad long contended
without being able to overcome。 This was the Captain's pipe。 On first
taking command of the household； she prohibited smoking in the sitting…
room； where it had been the old gentleman's custom to take a whiff or two
of the fragrant weed after meals。 The edict went forth…and so did the pipe。
An excellent move； no doubt； but then the house was his； and if he saw fit
to keep a tub of tobacco burning in the middle of the parlor floor； he had a
perfect right to do so。 However； be humored her in this as in other matters；
and smoked by stealth； like a guilty creature； in the barn； or about the
gardens。 That was practicable in summer； but in winter the Captain was
hard put to it。 When he couldn't stand it longer； he retreated to his
bedroom and barricaded the door。 Such was the position of affairs at the
time of which I write。
One morning； a few days after the great snow； as Miss Abigail was
dusting the chronometer in the ball； she beheld Captain Nutter slowly
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descending the staircase； with a long clay pipe in his mouth。 Miss Abigail
could hardly credit her own eyes。
〃Dan'el！〃 she gasped； retiring heavily on the hat…rack。
The tone of reproach with w
