the poet at the breakfast table-第14部分

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matter　with　them　you　turn　of　the　color　of　bronze。　　After　all；　I
didn't　mean　to　say　I　believed　it　was　Morbus　Addisonii；　I　only　thought
of　that　when　I　saw　the　discoloration。

So　he　gave　me　a　recipe；　which　I　took　care　to　put　where　it　could　do　no
hurt　to　anybody；　and　I　paid　him　his　fee　（which　he　took　with　the　air
of　a　man　in　the　receipt　of　a　great　income）　and　said　Good…morning。


What　in　the　name　of　a　thousand　diablos　is　the　reason　these
confounded　doctors　will　mention　their　guesses　about　〃a　case；〃　as　they
call　it；　and　all　its　conceivable　possibilities；　out　loud　before　their
patients？　　I　don't　suppose　there　is　anything　in　all　this　nonsense
about　〃Addison's　Disease；〃　but　I　wish　he　hadn't　spoken　of　that　very
interesting　ailment；　and　I　should　feel　a　little　easier　if　that
discoloration　would　leave　my　forehead。　　I　will　ask　the　Landlady　about
it；these　old　women　often　know　more　than　the　young　doctors　just　come
home　with　long　names　for　everything　they　don't　know　how　to　cure。　　But
the　name　of　this　complaint　sets　me　thinking。　　Bronzed　skin！　　What　an
odd　idea！　　Wonder　if　it　spreads　all　over　one。　　That　would　be
picturesque　and　pleasant；　now；　wouldn't　it？　　To　be　made　a　living
statue　of；nothing　to　do　but　strike　an　attitude。　　Arm　upsolike
the　one　in　the　Garden。　　John　of　Bologna's　Mercurythus　on　one　foot。
Needy　knife…grinder　in　the　Tribune　at　Florence。　　No；　not　〃needy；〃
come　to　think　of　it。　　Marcus　Aurelius　on　horseback。　　Query。　　Are
horses　subject　to　the　Morbus　Addisonii？　　Advertise　for　a　bronzed
living　horseLyceum　invitations　and　engagementsbronze　versus
brass。…What　's　the　use　in　being　frightened？　　Bet　it　was　a　bump。
Pretty　certain　I　bumped　my　forehead　against　something。　　Never　heard
of　a　bronzed　man　before。　　Have　seen　white　men；　black　men；　red　men；
yellow　men；　two　or　three　blue　men；　stained　with　doctor's　stuff；　some
green　ones；　from　the　country；　but　never　a　bronzed　man。　　Poh；　poh！
Sure　it　was　a　bump。　　Ask　Landlady　to　look　at　it。

Landlady　did　look　at　it。　　Said　it　was　a　bump；　and　no　mistake。
Recommended　a　piece　of　brown　paper　dipped　in　vinegar。　　Made　the　house
smell　as　if　it　were　in　quarantine　for　the　plague　from　Smyrna；　but
discoloration　soon　disappeared；so　I　did　not　become　a　bronzed　man
after　all；hope　I　never　shall　while　I　am　alive。　　Should　n't　mind
being　done　in　bronze　after　I　was　dead。　　On　second　thoughts　not　so
clear　about　it；　remembering　how　some　of　them　look　that　we　have　got
stuck　up　in　public；　think　I　had　rather　go　down　to　posterity　in　an
Ethiopian　Minstrel　portrait；　like　our　friend's　the　other　day。


You　were　kind　enough　to　say；　I　remarked　to　the　Master；　that　you
read　my　poems　and　liked　them。　　Perhaps　you　would　be　good　enough　to
tell　me　what　it　is　you　like　about　them？

The　Master　harpooned　a　breakfast…roll　and　held　it　up　before　me。Will
you　tell　me；he　said；why　you　like　that　breakfast…roll？I　suppose
he　thought　that　would　stop　my　mouth　in　two　senses。　　But　he　was
mistaken。

To　be　sure　I　will；said　I。…First；　I　like　its　mechanical
consistency；　brittle　externally；that　is　for　the　teeth；　which　want
resistance　to　be　overcome；　soft；　spongy；　well　tempered　and　flavored
internally；　that　is　for　the　organ　of　taste；　wholesome；　nutritious；
that　is　for　the　internal　surfaces　and　the　system　generally。

Good；said　the　Master；　and　laughed　a　hearty　terrestrial　laugh。

I　hope　he　will　carry　that　faculty　of　an　honest　laugh　with　him
wherever　he　goes；why　shouldn't　he？　　The　〃order　of　things；〃　as　he
calls　it；　from　which　hilarity　was　excluded；　would　be　crippled　and
one…sided　enough。　　I　don't　believe　the　human　gamut　will　be　cheated　of
a　single　note　after　men　have　done　breathing　this　fatal　atmospheric
mixture　and　die　into　the　ether　of　immortality！

I　did　n't　say　all　that；　if　I　had　said　it；　it　would　have　brought　a
pellet　from　the　popgun；　I　feel　quite　certain。

The　Master　went　on　after　he　had　had　out　his　laugh。　There　is　one
thing　I　am　His　Imperial　Majesty　about；　and　that　is　my　likes　and
dislikes。　　What　if　I　do　like　your　verses；you　can't　help　yourself。
I　don't　doubt　somebody　or　other　hates　'em　and　hates　you　and
everything　you　do；　or　ever　did；　or　ever　can　do。　　He　is　all　right；
there　is　nothing　you　or　I　like　that　somebody　does　n't　hate。　　Was
there　ever　anything　wholesome　that　was　not　poison　to　somebody？　　If
you　hate　honey　or　cheese；　or　the　products　of　the　dairy；I　know　a
family　a　good　many　of　whose　members　can't　touch　milk；　butter；　cheese；
and　the　like；　why；　say　so；　but　don't　find　fault　with　the　bees　and　the
cows。　　Some　are　afraid　of　roses；　and　I　have　known　those　who　thought　a
pond…lily　a　disagreeable　neighbor。　　That　Boy　will　give　you　the
metaphysics　of　likes　and　dislikes。　　Look　here；you　young　philosopher
over　there；do　you　like　candy？

That　Boy。…You　bet！　　Give　me　a　stick　and　see　if　I　don't。

And　can　you　tell　me　why　you　like　candy？

That　Boy。Because　I　do。

There；　now；　that　is　the　whole　matter　in　a　nutshell。　　Why　do　your
teeth　like　crackling　crust；　and　your　organs　of　taste　like　spongy
crumb；　and　your　digestive　contrivances　take　kindly　to　bread　rather
than　toadstools

That　Boy　（thinking　he　was　still　being　catechised）。Because　they　do。

Whereupon　the　Landlady　said；　Sh！　and　the　Young　Girl　laughed；　and　the
Lady　smiled；　and　Dr。　Ben　Franklin　kicked　him；　moderately；　under　the
table；　and　the　Astronomer　looked　up　at　the　ceiling　to　see　what　had
happened；　and　the　Member　of　the　Haouse　cried；　Order！　Order！　and　the
Salesman　said；　Shut　up；　cash…boy！　and　the　rest　of　the　boarders　kept
on　feeding；　except　the　Master；　who　looked　very　hard　but　half
approvingly　at　the　small　intruder；　who　had　come　about　as　nearly　right
as　most　professors　would　have　done。

You　poets；the　Master　said　after　this　excitement　had　calmed　down；
you　poets　have　one　thing　about　you　that　is　odd。　　You　talk　about
everything　as　if　you　knew　more　about　it　than　the　people　whose
business　it　is　to　know　all　about　it。　　I　suppose　you　do　a　little　of
what　we　teachers　used　to　call　〃cramming〃　now　and　then？

If　you　like　your　breakfast　you　must　n't　ask　the　cook　too　many
questions；I　answered。

Oh；　come　now；　don't　be　afraid　of　letting　out　your　secrets。　　I　have
a　notion　I　can　tell　a　poet　that　gets　himself　up　just　as　I　can　tell　a
make…believe　old　man　on　the　stage　by　the　line　where　the　gray　skullcap
joins　the　smooth　forehead　of　the　young　fellow　of　seventy。　　You'll
confess　to　a　rhyming　dictionary　anyhow；　won't　you？

I　would　as　lief　use　that　as　any　other　dictionary；　but　I　don't　want
it。　　When　a　word　comes　up　fit　to　end　a　line　with　I　can　feel　all　the
rhymes　in　the　language　that　are　fit　to　go　with　it　without　naming
them。　　I　have　tried　them　all　so　many　times；　I　know　all　the　polygamous
words　and　all　the　monogamous　ones；　and　all　the　unmarrying　ones；the
whole　lot　that　have　no　mates；as　soon　as　I　hear　their　names　called。
Sometimes　I　run　over　a　string　of　rhymes；　but　generally　speaking　it　is
strange　what　a　short　list　it　is　of　those　that　are　good　for　anything。
That　is　the　pitiful　side　of　all　rhymed　verse。　　Take　two　such　words　as
home　and　world。　　What　can　you　do　with　chrome　or　loam　or　gnome　or
tome？　　You　have　dome；　foam；　and　roam；　and　not　much　more　to　use　in
your　pome；　as　some　of　our　fellow…countrymen　call　it。　　As　for　world；
you　know　that　in　all　human　probability　somebody　or　something　will　be
hurled　into　it　or　out　of　it；　its　clouds　may　be　furled　or　its　grass
impearled；　possibly　something　may　be　whirled；　or　curled；　or　have
swirled；　one　of　Leigh　Hunt's　words；　which　with　lush；　one　of　Keats's；
is　an　important　part　of　the　stock　in　trade　of　some　dealers　in　rhyme。

And　how　much　do　you　versifiers　know　of　all　those　arts　and　sciences
you　refer　to　as　if　you　were　as　familiar　with　them　as　a　cobbler　is
with　his　wax　and　lapstone？

Enough　not　to　make　too　many　mistakes。　　The　best　way　is　to　ask　some
expert　before　one　risks　himself　very　far　in　illustrations　from　a
branch　he　does　not　know　much　about。　　Suppose；　for　instance；　I　wanted
to　use　the　double　star　to　illustrate　anything；　say　the　relation　of
two　human　souls　to　each　other；　what　would　Ido？　　Why；　I　would　ask
our　young　friend　there　to　let　me　look　at　one　of　those　loving
celestial　pairs　through　his　telescope；　and　I　don't　doubt　he'd　let　me
do　so；　and　tell　me　their　names　and　all　I　wanted　to　know　about　them。

I　should　be　most　happy　to　show　any　of　the　double　stars　or　whatever
else　there　might　be　to　see　in　the　heavens　to　any　of　our　friends　at
this　table；the　young　man　said；　so　cordially　and　kindly　that　it　was
a　real　invitation。

Show　us　the　man　in　the　moon；said　That　Boy。…I　should　so　like　to
see　a　double　star！said　Scheherezade；　with　a　very　pretty　air　of
smiling　modesty。

Will　you　go；　if　we　make　up　a　party？I　asked　the　Master。

A　cold　in　the　head　lasts　me　from　three　to　five　days；answered　the
Master。　I　am　not　so　very　fond　of　being　out　in　the　dew　like
Nebuchadnezzar：　that　will　do　for　you　young　folks。

I　suppose　I　must　be　one　of　the　young　folks；　not　so　young　as　our
Scheherezade；　nor　so　old　as　the　Capitalist；young　enough　at　any　rate
to　want　to　be　of　the　party。　　So　we　agreed　that　on　some　fair　night
when　the　Astronomer　should　tell　us　that　there　was　to　be　a　fine　show
in　the　skies；　we　would　make　up　a　party　and　go　to　the　Observatory。　　I
asked　the　Scarabee　whether　he　would　not　like　to　make　one