the poet at the breakfast table-第32部分

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Domini　2000　to　Ann。　Dom。　4000；or；　if　you　think　the　style　of　dating
will　be　changed；　say　to　Ann。　　Darwinii　（we　can　keep　A。　D。　you　see）
1872？　　Will　the　Man　be　of　the　Indian　type；　as　President　Samuel
Stanhope　Smith　and　others　have　supposed　the　transplanted　European
will　become　by　and　by？　　Will　he　have　shortened　down　to　four　feet　and
a　little　more；　like　the　Esquimaux；　or　will　he　have　been　bred　up　to
seven　feet　by　the　use　of　new　chemical　diets；　ozonized　and　otherwise
improved　atmospheres；　and　animal　fertilizers？　　Let　us　summon　him　in
imagination　and　ask　him　a　few　questions。

Is　n't　it　like　splitting　a　toad　out　of　a　rock　to　think　of　this　man　of
nineteen　or　twenty　centuries　hence　coming　out　from　his　stony
dwelling…place　and　speaking　with　us？　　What　are　the　questions　we
should　ask　him？　　He　has　but　a　few　minutes　to　stay。　　Make　out　your　own
list；　I　will　set　down　a　few　that　come　up　to　me　as　I　write。

What　is　the　prevalent　religious　creed　of　civilization　？

Has　the　planet　met　with　any　accident　of　importance？

How　general　is　the　republican　form　of　government　？

Do　men　fly　yet？

Has　the　universal　language　come　into　use？

Is　there　a　new　fuel　since　the　English　coal…mines　have　given　out？

Is　the　euthanasia　a　recognized　branch　of　medical　science？

Is　the　oldest　inhabitant　still　living？

Is　the　Daily　Advertiser　still　published？

And　the　Evening　Transcript？

Is　there　much　inquiry　for　the　works　of　a　writer　of　the　nineteenth
century　（Old　Style）　bythe　name　ofof

My　tongue　cleaves　to　the　roof　of　my　mouth。　　I　cannot　imagine　the
putting　of　that　question　without　feeling　the　tremors　which　shake　a
wooer　as　he　falters　out　the　words　the　answer　to　which　will　make　him
happy　or　wretched。

Whose　works　was　I　going　to　question　him　about；　do　you　ask　me？
Oh；　the　writings　of　a　friend　of　mine；　much　esteemed　by　his　relatives
and　others。　　But　it's　of　no　consequence；　after　all；　I　think　he　says
he　does　not　care　much　for　posthumous　reputation。

I　find　something　of　the　same　interest　in　thinking　about　one　of　the
boarders　at　our　table　that　I　find　in　my　waking　dreams　concerning　the
Man　of　the　Monument。　　This　personage　is　the　Register　of　Deeds。　　He　is
an　unemotional　character；　living　in　his　business　almost　as
exclusively　as　the　Scarabee；　but　without　any　of　that　eagerness　and
enthusiasm　which　belong　to　our　scientific　specialist。　　His　work　is
largely；　principally；　I　may　say；　mechanical。　　He　has　developed；
however；　a　certain　amount　of　taste　for　the　antiquities　of　his
department；　and　once　in　a　while　brings　out　some　curious　result　of　his
investigations　into　ancient　documents。　　He　too　belongs　to　a　dynasty
which　will　last　as　long　as　there　is　such　a　thing　as　property　in　land
and　dwellings。　　When　that　is　done　away　with；　and　we　return　to　the
state　of　villanage；　holding　our　tenement…houses；　all　to　be　of　the
same　pattern；　of　the　State；　that　is　to　say；　of　the　Tammany　Ring　which
is　to　take　the　place　of　the　feudal　lord；the　office　of　Register　of
Deeds　will；　I　presume；　become　useless；　and　the　dynasty　will　be
deposed。

As　we　grow　older　we　think　more　and　more　of　old　persons　and　of　old
things　and　places。　　As　to　old　persons；　it　seems　as　if　we　never　know
how　much　they　have　to　tell　until　we　are　old　ourselves　and　they　have
been　gone　twenty　or　thirty　years。　　Once　in　a　while　we　come　upon　some
survivor　of　his　or　her　generation　that　we　have　overlooked；　and　feel
as　if　we　had　recovered　one　of　the　lost　books　of　Livy　or　fished　up　the
golden　candlestick　from　the　ooze　of　the　Tiber。　　So　it　was　the　other
day　after　my　reminiscences　of　the　old　gambrel…roofed　house　and　its
visitors。　　They　found　an　echo　in　the　recollections　of　one　of　the
brightest　and　liveliest　of　my　suburban　friends；　whose　memory　is　exact
about　everything　except　her　own　age；　which；　there　can　be　no　doubt；
she　makes　out　a　score　or　two　of　years　more　than　it　really　is。　　Still
she　was　old　enough　to　touch　some　lightsand　a　shadow　or　twointo
the　portraits　I　had　drawn；　which　made　me　wish　that　she　and　not　I　had
been　the　artist　who　sketched　the　pictures。　　Among　the　lesser　regrets
that　mingle　with　graver　sorrows　for　the　friends　of　an　earlier
generation　we　have　lost；　are　our　omissions　to　ask　them　so　many
questions　they　could　have　answered　easily　enough；　and　would　have　been
pleased　to　be　asked。　　There！　　I　say　to　myself　sometimes；　in　an　absent
mood；　I　must　ask　her　about　that。　　But　she　of　whom　I　am　now　thinking
has　long　been　beyond　the　reach　of　any　earthly　questioning；　and　I　sigh
to　think　how　easily　I　could　have　learned　some　fact　which　I　should
have　been　happy　to　have　transmitted　with　pious　care　to　those　who　are
to　come　after　me。　　How　many　times　I　have　heard　her　quote　the　line
about　blessings　brightening　as　they　take　their　flight；　and　how　true
it　proves　in　many　little　ways　that　one　never　thinks　of　until　it　is
too　late。

The　Register　of　Deeds　is　not　himself　advanced　in　years。　　But　he
borrows　an　air　of　antiquity　from　the　ancient　records　which　are　stored
in　his　sepulchral　archives。　　I　love　to　go　to　his　ossuary　of　dead
transactions；　as　I　would　visit　the　catacombs　of　Rome　or　Paris。　　It　is
like　wandering　up　the　Nile　to　stray　among　the　shelves　of　his
monumental　folios。　　Here　stands　a　series　of　volumes；　extending　over　a
considerable　number　of　years；　all　of　which　volumes　are　in　his
handwriting。　　But　as　you　go　backward　there　is　a　break；　and　you　come
upon　the　writing　of　another　person；　who　was　getting　old　apparently；
for　it　is　beginning　to　be　a　little　shaky；　and　then　you　know　that　you
have　gone　back　as　far　as　the　last　days　of　his　predecessor。　　Thirty　or
forty　years　more　carry　you　to　the　time　when　this　incumbent　began　the
duties　of　his　office；　his　hand　was　steady　then；　and　the　next　volume
beyond　it　in　date　betrays　the　work　of　a　still　different　writer。　　All
this　interests　me；　but　I　do　not　see　how　it　is　going　to　interest　my
reader。　　I　do　not　feel　very　happy　about　the　Register　of　Deeds。　　What
can　I　do　with　him？　　Of　what　use　is　he　going　to　be　in　my　record　of
what　I　have　seen　and　heard　at　the　breakfast…table？　　The　fact　of　his
being　one　of　the　boarders　was　not　so　important　that　I　was　obliged　to
speak　of　him；　and　I　might　just　as　well　have　drawn　on　my　imagination
and　not　allowed　this　dummy　to　take　up　the　room　which　another　guest
might　have　profitably　filled　at　our　breakfast…table。

I　suppose　he　will　prove　a　superfluity；　but　I　have　got　him　on　my
hands；　and　I　mean　that　he　shall　be　as　little　in　the　way　as　possible。
One　always　comes　across　people　in　actual　life　who　have　no　particular
business　to　be　where　we　find　them；　and　whose　right　to　be　at　all　is
somewhat　questionable。

I　am　not　going　to　get　rid　of　the　Register　of　Deeds　by　putting　him　out
of　the　way；　but　I　confess　I　do　not　see　of　what　service　he　is　going　to
be　to　me　in　my　record。　　I　have　often　found；　however；　that　the
Disposer　of　men　and　things　understands　much　better　than　we　do　how　to
place　his　pawns　and　other　pieces　on　the　chess…board　of　life。　　A　fish
more　or　less　in　the　ocean　does　not　seem　to　amount　to　much。　　It　is　not
extravagant　to　say　that　any　one　fish　may　be　considered　a
supernumerary。　　But　when　Captain　Coram's　ship　sprung　a　leak　and　the
carpenter　could　not　stop　it；　and　the　passengers　had　made　up　their
minds　that　it　was　all　over　with　them；　all　at　once；　without　any
apparent　reason；　the　pumps　began　gaining　on　the　leak；　and　the　sinking
ship　to　lift　herself　out　of　the　abyss　which　was　swallowing　her　up。
And　what　do　you　think　it　was　that　saved　the　ship；　and　Captain　Coram；
and　so　in　due　time　gave　to　London　that　Foundling　Hospital　which　he
endowed；　and　under　the　floor　of　which　he　lies　buried？　　Why；　it　was
that　very　supernumerary　fish；　which　we　held　of　so　little　account；　but
which　had　wedged　itself　into　the　rent　of　the　yawning　planks；　and
served　to　keep　out　the　water　until　the　leak　was　finally　stopped。

I　am　very　sure　it　was　Captain　Coram；　but　I　almost　hope　it　was
somebody　else；　in　order　to　give　some　poor　fellow　who　is　lying　in　wait
for　the　periodicals　a　chance　to　correct　me。　　That　will　make　him　happy
for　a　month；　and　besides；　he　will　not　want　to　pick　a　quarrel　about
anything　else　if　he　has　that　splendid　triumph。　　You　remember
Alcibiades　and　his　dog's　tail。

Here　you　have　the　extracts　I　spoke　of　from　the　manuscript　placed　in
my　hands　for　revision　and　emendation。　　I　can　understand　these
alternations　of　feeling　in　a　young　person　who　has　been　long　absorbed
in　a　single　pursuit；　and　in　whom　the　human　instincts　which　have　been
long　silent　are　now　beginning　to　find　expression。　　I　know　well　what
he　wants；　a　great　deal　better；　I　think；　than　he　knows　himself。


　　　　　WIND…CLOUDS　AND　STAR…DRIFTS。

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　II

Brief　glimpses　of　the　bright　celestial　spheres；
False　lights；　false　shadows；　vague；　uncertain　gleams；
Pale　vaporous　mists；　wan　streaks　of　lurid　flame；
The　climbing　of　the　upward…sailing　cloud；
The　sinking　of　the　downward…falling　star；
All　these　are　pictures　of　the　changing　moods
Borne　through　the　midnight　stillness　of　my　soul。

Here　am　I；　bound　upon　this　pillared　rock；
Prey　to　the　vulture　of　a　vast　desire
That　feeds　upon　my　life。　　I　burst　my　bands
And　steal　a　moment's　freedom　from　the　beak；
The　clinging　talons　and　the　shadowing　plumes；
Then　comes　the　false　enchantress；　with　her