a new england girlhood-第14部分

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ver　could。）But　we　always　managed　to　get　a　good　look　at　the　show　in　one　way　or　another。

〃Old　Election；〃　〃'Lection　Day〃　we　called　it；　a　lost　holiday　now；　was　a　general　training　day；　and　it　came　at　our　most　delightful　season；　the　last　of　May。　Lilacs　and　tulips　were　in　bloom；　then；　and　it　was　a　picturesque　fashion　of　the　time　for　little　girls　whose　parents　had　no　flower…gardens　to　go　around　begging　a　bunch　of　lilacs；　or　a　tulip　or　two。　My　mother　always　made　〃'Lection　cake〃　for　us　on　that　day。　It　was　nothing　but　a　kind　of　sweetened　bread　with　a　shine　of　egg…and…molasses　on　top；　but　we　thought　it　delicious。

The　Fourth　of　July　and　Thanksgiving　Day　were　the　only　other　holidays　that　we　made　much　account　of；　and　the　former　was　a　far　more　well　behaved　festival　than　it　is　in　modern　times。　The　bells　rang　without　stint；　and　at　morning　and　noon　cannon　were　fired　off。　But　torpedoes　and　fire…crackers　did　not　make　the　highways　dangerous；perhaps　they　were　thought　too　expensive　an　amusement。　Somebody　delivered　an　oration；　there　was　a　good　deal　said　about　〃this　universal　Yankee　nation〃；　some　rockets　went　up　from　Salem　in　the　evening；　we　watched　them　from　the　hill；　and　then　went　to　bed；　feeling　that　we　had　been　good　patriots。

There　was　always　a　Fast　Day；　which　I　am　afraid　most　of　us　younger　ones　regarded　merely　as　a　day　when　we　were　to　eat　unlimited　quantities　of　molasses…gingerbread；　instead　of　sitting　down　to　our　regular　meals。

When　I　read　about　Christmas　in　the　English　story…books；　I　wished　we　could　have　that　beautiful　holiday。　But　our　Puritan　fathers　shook　their　heads　at　Christmas。

Our　Sabbath…school　library　books　were　nearly　all　English　reprints；　and　many　of　the　story…books　were　very　interesting。　I　think　that　most　of　my　favorites　were　by　Mrs。　Sherwood。　Some　of　them　were　about　life　in　India；〃Little　Henry　and　his　Bearer；〃　and　〃Ayah　and　Lady。〃　Then　there　were　〃The　Hedge　of　Thorns；〃　〃Theophilus　and　Sophia；〃　〃Anna　Ross；〃　and　a　whole　series　of　little　English　books　that　I　took　great　delight　in。

I　had　begun　to　be　rather　introspective　and　somewhat　unhealthily　self…critical；　contrasting　myself　meanwhile　with　my　sister　Lida；　just　a　little　older；　who　was　my　usual　playmate；　and　whom　I　admired　very　much　for　what　I　could　not　help　seeing；her　unusual　sweetness　of　disposition。　I　read　Mrs。　Sherwood's　〃Infant's　Progress；〃　and　I　made　a　personal　application　of　it；　picturing　myself　as　the　naughty；　willful　〃Playful；〃　and　my　sister　Lida　as　the　saintly　little　〃Peace。〃

This　book　gave　me　a　morbid；　unhappy　feeling；　while　yet　it　had　something　of　the　fascination　of　the　〃Pilgrim's　Progress；〃　of　which　it　is　an　imitation。　I　fancied　myself　followed　about　by　a　fiend…like　boy　who　haunted　its　pages；　called　〃Inbred…Sin；〃　and　the　story　implied　that　there　was　no　such　thing　as　getting　rid　of　him。　I　began　to　dislike　all　boys　on　his　account。　There　was　one　who　tormented　my　sister　and　mewe　only　knew　him　by　nameby　jumping　out　at　us　from　behind　doorways　or　fences　on　our　way　to　school；　making　horrid　faces　at　us。　〃Inbred…Sin；〃　I　was　certain；　looked　just　like　him；　and　the　two；　strangely　blended　in　one　hideous　presence；　were　the　worst　nightmare　of　my　dreams。　There　was　too　much　reality　about　that　〃Inbreed…Sin。〃　I　felt　that　I　was　acquainted　with　him。　He　was　the　hateful　hero　of　the　little　allegory；　as　Satan　is　of　〃Paradise　Lost。〃

I　liked　lessons　that　came　to　me　through　fables　and　fairy　tales；　although；　in　reading　Aesop；　I　invariably　skipped　the　〃moral〃　pinned　on　at　the　end；　and　made　one　for　myself；　or　else　did　without。

Mrs。　Lydia　Maria　Child's　story　of　〃The　Immortal　Fountain；〃　in　the　〃Girl's　Own　Book；〃which　it　was　the　joy　of　my　heart　to　read；　although　it　preached　a　searching　sermon　to　me；I　applied　in　the　same　way　that　I　did　the　〃Infant's　Progress。〃　I　thought　of　Lida　as　the　gentle；　unselfish　Rose；　and　myself　as　the　ugly　Marion。　She　was　patient　and　obliging；　and　I　felt　that　I　was　the　reverse。　　She　was　considered　pretty；　and　I　knew　that　I　was　the　reverse　of　that；　too。　I　wondered　if　Lida　really　had　bathed　in　the　Immortal　Fountain；　and　oh；　how　I　wished　I　could　find　the　way　there！　But　I　feared　that　trying　to　do　so　would　be　of　no　use；　the　fairies　would　cross　their　wands　to　keep　me　back；　and　their　wings　would　darken　at　my　approach。

The　book　that　I　loved　first　and　best；　and　lived　upon　in　my　childhood；　was　〃Pilgrim's　Progress。〃　It　was　as　a　story　that　I　cared　for　it；　although　I　knew　that　it　meant　something　more；　something　that　was　already　going　on　in　my　own　heart　and　life。　Oh；　how　I　used　to　wish　that　I　too　could　start　off　on　a　pilgrim…　age！　It　would　be　so　much　easier　than　the　continual；　discouraging　struggle　to　be　good！

The　lot　I　most　envied　was　that　of　the　contented　Shepherd　Boy　in　the　Valley　of　Humiliation；　singing　his　cheerful　songs；　and　wearing　〃the　herb　called　Heart's　Ease　in　his　bosom〃；　but　all　the　glorious　ups　and　downs　of　the　〃Progress〃　I　would　gladly　have　shared　with　Christiana　and　her　children；　never　desiring　to　turn　aside　into　any　〃By…Path　Meadow〃　while　Mr。　Great…Heart　led　the　way；　and　the　Shining　Ones　came　down　to　meet　us　along　the　road。　It　was　one　of　the　necessities　of　my　nature；　as　a　child；　to　have　some　one　being；　real　or　ideal；　man　or　woman；　before　whom　I　inwardly　bowed　down　and　worshiped。　Mr。　Great…Heart　was　the　perfect　hero　of　my　imagination。　Nobody；　in　books　or　out　of　them；　compared　with　him。　I　wondered　if　there　were　really　any　Mr。　Great…　Hearts　to　be　met　with　among　living　men。

I　remember　reading　this　beloved　book　once　in　a　snow…storm；　and　looking　up　from　it　out　among　the　white；　wandering　flakes；　with　a　feeling　that　they　had　come　down　from　heaven　as　its　interpreters；　that　they　were　trying　to　tell　me；　in　their　airy　up…and…down…　flight；　the　story　of　innumerable　souls。　I　tried　to　fix　my　eye　on　one　particular　flake；　and　to　follow　its　course　until　it　touched　the　earth。　But　I　found　that　I　could　not。　A　little　breeze　was　stirring　an　the　flake　seemed　to　go　and　return；　to　descend　and　then　ascend　again；　as　if　hastening　homeward　to　the　sky；　losing　itself　at　last　in　the　airy；　infinite　throng；　and　leaving　me　filled　with　thoughts　of　that　〃great　multitude；　which　no　man　could　number；　clothed　with　white　robes；〃　crowding　so　gloriously　into　the　closing　pages　of　the　Bible。

Oh；　if　I　could　only　be　sure　that　I　should　some　time　be　one　of　that　invisible　company！　But　the　heavens　were　already　beginning　to　look　a　great　way　off。　I　hummed　over　one　of　my　best　loved　hymns；

〃Who　are　these　in　bright　array？〃

and　that　seemed　to　bring　them　nearer　again。

The　history　of　the　early　martyrs；　the　persecutions　of　the　Waldenses　and　of　the　Scotch　Covenanters；　I　read　and　re…read　with　longing　emulation！　Why　could　not　I　be　a　martyr；　too？　It　would　be　so　beautiful　to　die　for　the　truth　as　they　did；　as　Jesus　did！　I　did　not　understand　then　that　He　lived　and　died　to　show　us　what　life　really　means；　and　to　give　us　true　life；　like　His；the　life　of　love　to　God　with　all　our　hearts；　of　love　to　all　His　human　children　for　His　sake；and　that　to　live　this　life　faithfully　is　greater　even　than　to　die　a　martyr's　death。

It　puzzled　me　to　know　what　some　of　the　talk　I　heard　about　being　a　Christian　could　mean。　I　saw　that　it　was　something　which　only　men　and　women　could　comprehend。　And　yet　they　taught　me　to　say　those　dear　words　of　the　Master；　〃Suffer　the　little　children　to　come　unto　Me！〃　Surely　He　meant　what　He　said。　He　did　not　tell　the　children　that　they　must　receive　the　kingdom　of　God　like　grown　people；　He　said　that　everybody　must　enter　into　it　〃as　a　little　child。〃

But　our　fathers　were　stalwart　men；　with　many　foes　to　encounter。　If　anybody　ever　needed　a　grown…up　religion；　they　surely　did；　and　it　became　them　well。

Most　of　our　every…day　reading　also　came　to　us　over　the　sea。　Miss　Edgworth's　juvenile　stories　were　in　general　circulation；　and　we　knew　〃Harry　and　Lucy〃　and　〃Rosamond〃　almost　as　well　as　we　did　our　own　playmates。　But　we　did　not　think　those　English　children　had　so　good　a　time　as　we　did；　they　had　to　be　so　prim　and　methodical。　It　seemed　to　us　that　the　little　folks　across　the　water　never　were　allowed　to　romp　and　run　wild；　some　of　us　may　have　held　a　vague　idea　that　this　freedom　of　ours　was　the　natural　inheritance　of　republican　children　only。

Primroses　and　cowslips　and　daisies　bloomed　in　these　pleasant　story…books　of　ours；　and　we　went　a…Maying　there；　with　our　transatlantic　playmates。　I　think　we　sometimes　started　off　with　our　baskets；　expecting　to　find　those　English　flowers　in　our　own　fields。　How　should　children　be　wiser　than　to　look　for　every　beautiful　thing　they　have　heard　of；　on　home　ground？

And；　indeed；　our　commonest　field…flowers　were；　many　of　them；　importations　from　the　mother…countryclover；　and　dandelions；　and　ox…eye　daisies。　I　was　delighted　when　my　mother　told　me　one　day　that　a　yellow　flower　I　brought　her　was　a　cowslip；　for　I　thought　she　meant　that　it　was　the　genuine　English　cowslip；　which　I　had　read　about。　I　was　disappointed　to　learn　that　it　was　a　native　blossom；　the　marsh…marigold。

My　sisters　had　some　books　that　I　appropriated　to　myself　a　great　deal：　〃Paul　and　Virginia；〃　〃Elizabeth；　or　the　Exiles　of　Siberia；〃　〃Nina：　an　Icelandic　Tale；〃　with　the　〃Vicar　of　Wakefield；〃　the　〃Tour　to　the　Hebrides；〃　〃Gulliver's　Travels；〃　the　〃Arabian　Nights；〃　and　some　odd　volumes　of　Sir　Walter　Scott's　novels。

I　read　the　〃Sc